Part 2

Mrs. Clifford said that a man answering Kettler’s description had come to the house either on the 3d or 4th inst., and she remembered that Strang had brought a valise and four trunks. Kettler had remained at the house about ten days, paying her regularly. Once he paid her with a five-dollar gold piece. She did not notice anything peculiar or restless in his behaviour. He kept to the house pretty closely, though he was generally out nights. She saw, however, that he read the newspapers very closely. He told her that he was going to California. When asked if on his departure he had taken all his baggage, she said, no, he had left a long black trunk, which they would find in the wood-shed. They opened the trunk, and found it full of crockery and cooking utensils. They carried it to Strang’s truck, and directed Strang to carry it to the house in Thirty-sixth street, to ask for Kettler, and if Kettler was there, to give them a sign, as they would remain outside. Strang inquired for Kettler, but was told that no man of that name lived there; but that a man corresponding to the description lived one flight up with a wife and two children. Strang took the trunk up stairs, and found a woman, a young boy, and a little girl in the room designated. The woman said the trunk belonged to Martin Kenkouwsky, her husband, and offered to pay fifty cents for its delivery. Strang then signalled to Seide and Stanton that the man was not in, and the reporter and detective went to an adjoining house, and received permission to watch from the windows. Seide went out again to speak to Strang, and while he was talking to him in front of 510 West Thirty-sixth street, both were arrested by Policeman Tregonning. The police of Capt. Washburn’s precinct had been looking for the same man, and had traced him to this same house. This was the cause of the arrest of Seide and Strang. When they got to the station, Seide explained to the Captain who he was, and the Captain sent him back with a policeman to get Stanton to identify him. At first they couldn’t find Stanton, and the policeman wanted to take Seide back. In the meantime the Captain had sent Policeman Fitzgerald to aid Tregonning in arresting Kenkouwsky. The policemen, Seide, and Stanton, who had meanwhile relieved Seide of his embarrassment, waited for about three hours, when they saw a man answering the description of the murderer walking up the street. Policeman Fitzgerald arrested him. He offered no resistance, and his only exclamation was in German: “Was ist? was ist? was ist?” He was at once taken to the station, where he was locked up. Sergeant Brown was sent down for Scherrer, and a policeman was despatched for Strang. Scherrer arrived about twenty minutes after the arrest, and identified the prisoner as the man who had been at his house under the name of Kettler. Strang also soon appeared, and he too identified Kettler. Meanwhile Policemen had entered the room at 510 West Thirty-sixth street, notified the woman of her husband’s arrest, and taken the four trunks and the valise to the station. Our reporter was present when the trunks were opened. Almost the first thing found when one of the yellow trunks was opened was a letter addressed to Mrs. Mina Muller, 338 West Thirty-ninth street. In a corner of the envelope was printed “Germania Lodge, No. 70, K. of H.” It contained a request for her to attend a lodge meeting on Jan. 10. The trunks were full of articles of female attire, and in one of them was a pair of men’s gloves of white leather, stained with dirt and badly torn, as though whoever wore them had been handling some rough object. It is thought that Kenkowski wore these gloves when he was married and when he crushed Mina Muller’s skull with stones. A gray wrapper, and a straw bonnet and table covers were among the other objects found.

At about half-past 9 the prisoner’s wife arrived at the station with her boy, who was crying bitterly. She asked why her husband had been arrested, and why the trunks had been taken away. When asked what his name was, she replied, “Martin Kenkouwski,” and added that they had been married ten years ago in Alsace, and had only been in this country a little more than half a year. Her husband was a mason and kalsominer. When asked if he had been at home regularly lately, she said he had been away about ten days in the beginning of the month.

“Do you know,” asked the interpreter (the woman and her husband spoke in German), “that he married another woman, and killed her?”

“I don’t believe it,” she replied firmly, while the boy cried more loudly than before. “I don’t believe it!” she reiterated. “Let me see him! Don’t cry my child” (turning to the boy), “or you will make me weep. Don’t cry!” Here her voice faltered, and she burst into tears.

She was then led to the cell. Here a heart-rending scene occurred. She threw herself with her child against the grating, sobbing and calling for her husband. He was far back in the cell, and when he heard her and the child, he shrieked from out of the darkness:

“Katrina! Katrina! Merciful Heavens! My child! My child! Great God, are you here!”

Then he rushed forward to the cell door, pressed his face against the iron trellis work, lifted his hands and called out: “Before God I stand a guiltless man, and if I die I die guiltless. I was misled by the wicked woman; she led me astray. My God, Katrina! Katrina! Give me your hand!”

Here he thrust his hand through the cell gate, and his wife clasped it. She was too much overcome to speak for a while, and the child moaned and sobbed. Kenkouwski continued reiterating his innocence, when he called out again. “The wicked woman misled me; she led me astray.”

His wife exclaimed: “Have I not been a good wife? Have I not prayed to God for you?” Then she sobbed again. After a while she said to him: “I don’t believe you killed her! I don’t believe it!” After this she and the child were led away, and he called after them: “By God, Katrina, I am innocent. I am innocent.”

The woman said he had always been a good husband to her, nor did she seem to know anything of Mina Muller. She said nothing when asked what she had thought when her husband came back with three yellow trunks after an absence of ten days.

Shortly after the woman left, Kenkouwski was led before the Sergeant for examination. He looked wild and nervous, and gesticulated violently. “He must be watched well to-night,” said one of the policemen, “or he’ll hang himself.” As he approached the desk, he suddenly threw up his arms and exclaimed:

“Now, I will tell you the truth. If it is not the truth you may take a knife and cut my throat, like this,” (here he pulled his finger across his neck.) “Mina Schmidt told me the other day that she knew I was married, but she wanted me to marry her and go to Germany with her, where she had very good parents living. At that time I didn’t know she was married. We went to Guttenberg to get married, and when we got over there we went to the Schutzen Park. Two men there came up to me and told me that she did not love me, that she loved another. When she heard this she sprang up and ran away from me, and I have not seen her since.”

He was then led back to his cell. He was again brought from his cell at about 11 o’clock to be looked at by the reporters assembled in the Thirty-seventh street station. He had been lying down, and the light dust from the cell floor covered his back. He looked in a bewildered manner at the throng about him, spoke a few words in German, reasserting what he had previously said in regard to the murder, and was taken back again. His eyes were bloodshot, and he spoke in a nervous manner.

“Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Kenkouwsky, “does any one speak French?

“I do!” replied another reporter, addressing him in French.

Kenkouwsky sprang from his seat and, with tears falling fast, seized the reporter by the hand and said: “Tell them that as our Saviour, who was crucified, was innocent, so am I!”

“Of what?” asked the reporter.

“Of the murder of Mina Schmidt. I married her that day, although I have a wife here. She told me she loved me. I did not tell her I was married. After we were married we went to Schuetzen Park. There we sat at a table drinking, when two men came by. They greeted Mina as old friends, and we all drank together. One of the men took her away, and the other then told me that Mina had said that she did not love me. They all left me, and I, after hunting for them, came back to this city and tried to find her.”

Chief of Police Donovan of Hoboken, who had been standing by all this time and listening to what the reporter quickly translated, touched the reporter on the shoulder and said: “Ask him if he was not in Jersey City last night.”

The reporter asked the question. Kenkouwsky staggered back and repeated, “Jersey City! Jersey City! Where is that?” The reporter repeated the question.

Kenkouwsky replied: “I was with my wife last night.”

“In Jersey City?” asked the reporter.

“No; I was with a woman there.”

Chief Donovan’s eyes brightened, and he then said: “Last Monday a young girl, whose name I cannot now mention, was taken into a house by this man. He made her drink wine, and as she was partly stupefied, he locked the doors and assaulted her. It was for this offence that I and my detectives were hunting him up to-day. We did not then suspect that he was the murderer of Mrs. Schmidt. Last night he was to meet another girl, but she became frightened and did not stay where he told her to until he came. He eluded us by ten minutes.”

In the prisoner’s pocket was found a clipping from a German paper of the account of the hanging of Mrs. Meierhoffer and her paramour last winter. To the reporter he said he had not read any account of the Guttenberg murder until the day previous to his arrest.

At midnight Chief Donovan had the trunks of Mrs. Mina Schmidt taken over to Hoboken.

Detective Stanton told our reporter that an empty watch case had been found in the room at 510 West Thirty-sixth street. On the yellow trunks labels were pasted with the address:

+--------------------------+ | MONSIEUR JOSEPH REYMANN, | | | | No. 52 Rue Clissant, | | | | Paris (France). | +--------------------------+

The purpose of this address was, it is supposed, to induce Scherrer to believe that he was to take the French steamer.

Seide says he has ascertained that on Monday night, May 2, Kenkouwsky applied at Becker’s Hotel in Christopher street, for a room, but refused to write his name. The entry is in the hotel clerk’s hand. “Louis Kettler, Room No. 1.”

Coroner Wiggins began an inquest in the case in Hoboken on the afternoon of May 19th. Simon Muller, the husband of the murdered woman, testified: “Coroner Wiggins told me on Wednesday that my wife had been found murdered in Guttenberg. I told him that it could not be so, for that she had gone to Germany with a man from Alsace. I went to the French steamship wharf on the day I heard they were to sail, and watched for her until the ship sailed, but she did not come. I was married to her five years ago. Our married life was unhappy, and on the 5th of last January she left me. She had then between $75 and $100.”

Carl Schmidt, the brother of the murdered woman, testified: “I last saw my sister Philomina at my place, 555 Ninth avenue, New York. She came to my house on Sunday, May 1, at about 5 o’clock in the afternoon. She told me she was going with a man named Louis Kettler to Mulhausen, in Alsace. I asked her why she was going. She replied that Kettler was well off at home. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘what treatment I have had from my husband.’ I told her that I knew he did not treat her right, but that she should not go with this man, as she did not know him at all. And further, I told her that she must first get a separation from Muller before she could go with another man. She answered, ‘I don’t care how it will result, I will go with him. My husband tried to shoot me.’ She also told me that she had known Kettler for four weeks, and he had told her that he had property in Mulhausen, and that he would give her a good home there. Kettler, she said, was richer than the whole Schmidt family. She left me at about 6½ o’clock to go to my other sister’s house in Tenth avenue, between Nineteenth and Twentieth streets. I never saw Kettler but once, and that was on a Sunday in April in Second avenue, near Seventy-ninth street, in my sister’s apartments. On May 2nd a cousin of my wife met Kettler on the street and asked him when he and Mina were going to Europe. He replied that he was not going to Europe. The cousin then asked what Mina would do, and he said she would go to the country, where she had friends to stay with. Kettler then suggested that the cousin and he should go off together, and leave Mina behind. Since the 3rd of May, on the 9th or 10th of the month, I think, the woman Sacks saw Louis Kettler passing up on the opposite side of the street. When she noticed him she called my wife, who was in the room with her, to the window.”

The Rev. Dr. Mabon, the pastor of the Grove Reformed Dutch Church, on the Weavertown road, at whose house the murdered woman and Kettler were married, testified that he had performed the ceremony.

“When I asked the man,” he said, “if he took the woman for his lawful wife, he answered ‘Yes,’ and at the time I noticed a tear in his eye.”

The inquest was suddenly adjourned on the news of the murderer’s arrest in N. Y. city.

THREATENING TO LYNCH HIM.

The Scene at his Parting from his Wife and Children--Angry Throngs in Hoboken--Giving Away the Murdered Woman’s Watch--The Testimony.

Over in New York Martin Kenkowsky was closely watched. He was so agitated when he was led back to his cell on Thursday night, that Policeman Finerty was detailed to watch him, as it was feared he might attempt to kill himself. The policeman says that the prisoner was restless until after sunrise. At first he paced the cell like a caged animal, stopping now and then and pressing his face against the gate, his bloodshot eyes glaring through the trellis work. This continued several hours. Then, for the first time, he gave way to his feelings. He threw himself upon the floor and moaned piteously. Then he sprang up again, leaped to the gate, and tried to shake it. After that he again paced the cell, wringing his hands wildly and calling out German words which the policeman could not understand. Toward morning he became more quiet, but even when lying down he tossed about and did not sleep. Finerty says that Kenkowsky is one of the most powerful men he has seen; that when he tried to shake the cell gate he could see the muscles moving beneath his sleeves.

The news that the Guttenberg murderer had been captured spread rapidly in the neighborhood, and by eight o’clock in the morning some 400 persons were in Thirty-seventh street, pressing toward the police station and standing on either side of the station nearly all the way to Ninth and Tenth avenues. A little after 8 o’clock a woman with a young boy at her side and a little girl in her arms was seen trying to make her way through the crowd. Whenever it was so dense as to impede her progress she spoke a few words, and those in the immediate vicinity fell back and allowed her to pass. The boy was crying bitterly, but the woman’s features were firmly set, and the little girl, who seemed to be about 6 years old, was quiet. When the woman had made her way to the station door she hesitated a moment. Then she entered, dragging the boy, who seemed unwilling to follow, after her. She was the prisoner’s wife. People now began to climb upon some empty trunks near by, and even women with babies in their arms were seen on the wagons. Up to this point the crowd had been quiet. But when the coach in which Kenkowsky was to be conveyed to the Jefferson Market Police Court appeared, some one shouted, “Kill him!” and an angry howl went up from the dense throng.

“Lynch him! Hang him to a lamp post!” was shouted by others. No attempt, however, was made to carry out these threats.

Meanwhile Chief of Police Donovan of Hoboken and Detective Stanton had arrived, and the prisoner had been led from his cell. When he saw his wife and children he burst into tears. His wife also wept and called out:

“Why did you not take my advice? Why did you not stay away from her?”

“I swear to God I am innocent,” he called out. “Let me kiss you, Katrina; let me kiss you and my children!”

He stepped toward her with arms spread as though to embrace her, but she started back in a half frightened way. The boy, however, sprang toward him and clasped his arms around his neck. The woman turned her face away and only allowed him to kiss her neck, while the little girl pushed him off and then shrank away. Just then the crowd without howled. Kenkowsky turned ghastly pale and trembled, while his wife fainted and fell upon the floor, and the boy wept louder than ever. The little girl leaned over her mother and patted her cheek with one hand, while with the other she made a repelling motion toward her father. The prisoner was led away, and as soon as the wife came to her senses she went away with her children. When the door closed on her she stood for a moment gazing in a dazed manner at the crowd. The people seemed to pity her. One man took her hand and led her down the steps, and then she passed through the crowd unmolested by either word or act. Her face was pale but calm, and the little girl was as quiet as she had been throughout all the trying scenes, but the boy, who clung to his mother’s skirt, was still crying bitterly.

Kenkowsky was again led back before the sergeant at the desk as soon as his family had gone. He was then quite calm and collected. He turned to a policeman and said in German: “I am innocent. I suppose you will let me go home soon.”

“Why,” replied the policeman, “whether you’re guilty or not, you’ll be mighty lucky if you get off.”

The prisoner was then asked if he would go quietly to court, and he said he would. He was manacled, and between two policemen was marched out of the station. His appearance was a signal for another howl from the crowd, who pressed around the party so closely that the policemen used their clubs. The prisoner turned pale, and trembled as he had done in the station when he heard the angry cry without. He was hustled into the coach, and as soon as the door was closed the driver whipped up his horses, and they started off at such speed that the crowd had to fall back. Many, however, ran after the coach several blocks down Ninth avenue, and some boys followed it all the way to the Jefferson Market Police Court.

The prisoner was taken into a small room, and when court was opened he was led before Justice Morgan. Capt. Washburn, Coroner Wiggins, Chief Donovan, Detective Stanton, and G. A. Seide were in court. Capt. Washburn stated the case to the Justice, and said the New Jersey authorities wished to have the custody of the prisoner. The Justice called up Kenkowsky and asked if he knew why he was to be taken to New Jersey. The French interpreter translated the question, but the prisoner said he understood German better than he did French, so the German interpreter was called in. Kenkowsky replied in the affirmative. He further said that he knew his legal rights, but that he was willing to go to New Jersey without any formal proceedings. The Justice then endorsed the warrant and Capt. Washburn handed over the prisoner to Chief Donovan. Kenkowsky’s manacles had been taken off, and he asked that he be allowed to have his arms free. His request was granted.

Kenkowsky was then again placed in the coach, which was driven hurriedly through West Tenth street to the Hoboken ferry and upon the ferryboat Moonachie.

Kenkowsky’s coming had been anticipated in Hoboken, and an immense throng had gathered at the ferry on the Hoboken side, rendering the streets leading to the river almost impassable. As each boat reached the slip the policemen on duty there experienced the utmost difficulty in restraining the crowd that pressed forward eagerly in the desire to get a glimpse of the prisoner. When at last he landed on the New Jersey shore the carriage was driven as rapidly as possible through the multitude in the direction of Police Headquarters. Some one in the throng recognized Chief Donovan in the vehicle and shouted to the bystanders:

“There’s the murderer! There’s the murderer!”

The news spread like wildfire, and was received with mingled threats and shouts of exultation. Cries of “Hang him!” “Lynch the wretch!” “We’ll fix him!” were heard on all sides. The coach dashed up Newark street to Hudson street, pursued by over 2,000 persons, shouting at the top of their voices. Chief Donovan deemed it prudent to avoid the still larger crowds that swarmed around the police station on Washington street. He therefore directed the driver to pull up his horses at the end of an alley that led to the rear of the building. The prisoner was conducted through this passage to the station. He was placed in a cell at the end of the corridor.

While he was lying in jail awaiting the opening of the inquest, which had been adjourned until 2 o’clock, another link in the chain of circumstantial evidence against him was being prepared. Regina Herkfeldt, 20 years old, of 153 Newark avenue, told the police that on Monday, May 9, she went to an intelligence office in Mott street to get a situation as a servant. There she met a man answering Kenkowsky’s description. He engaged her to do housework, and took her to 149 Charles street. There he locked her in a room and assaulted her. He then led her to the street and left her. Afterward he followed her into a saloon and took her pocketbook and a ring from her finger, and left the saloon with them. She followed him to Thirty-fifth street and Tenth avenue, where she lost him. Three or four days afterward the man went to her brother’s place of business (her brother is a galvanizer in the Pennsylvania Railroad shops), and told him that he wanted to marry the girl. After that he went to her house and told her he would marry her, and they went to Canal street, New York, to her sister’s house. Last Sunday the man went to her house and told her he was going to Chicago. He said he wanted to give her a gold watch and a ring. The watch was a lady’s hunting case gold watch, with flowers engraved on the outside case. The inside case did not look like gold. The ring was chased, and had one round dark blue stone set in a crown setting, with four claws which held the stone. He would not let her keep the ring, but said he would send her one from Chicago. He went back on Wednesday, the 18th, and told her she must get a situation, and he would send for her from Chicago. The girl could not remember the man’s name.

When Chief Donovan heard this story he telegraphed to Jersey City for the girl, and she was taken to Hoboken by Detective Bowe. Kenkowsky and a number of other persons were admitted to the large drill room of the station, and the girl was then led in and requested to point out the man. No sooner had she entered the apartment than she walked opposite to Kenkowsky, looked at him steadily for an instant, and then, as she waved her umbrella toward him, exclaimed:

“Das ist der man.”

“Ask him,” said Chief Donovan to Aid Ringe, “whether he has ever seen this woman before.”

The aid interpreted the question and the prisoner grunted out a negative answer.