Part 17

The arrest of Beverly and Mrs. Dixon was made on a warrant signed by Miss Miller, who had entered into correspondence with them from her home in Portland, Ore. The fee in Chicago was to have been $50, according to the letters she received from the mediums, as in the preceding instance. She borrowed money to come to Chicago, and had but $25 to pay the "healers." When she received no benefit from their treatment she made complaint and was threatened with violence, she alleges. Thereupon she laid her case before Chief Collins, resulting in the raid and the closing up of this place.

Thus did the sleuth a-sleuthing vanquish the ubiquitous "spook," the "ghost," the "spirit," the re-incarnation, the Mahatma, the "sending," and all the hosts of the immaterial world, whose immaterialism was being converted into good hard material cash by the producers of the evanescent shapes from beyond the veil.

Thus did Clifton R. Wooldridge and his able assistants make "spooking" a dangerous business in Chicago.

WIFE OR GALLOWS?

PREFERS HANGING TO LIVING WITH HIS WIFE.

Hugo Devel prefers being hanged to living with his wife.

Unable to escape her in any other way, lacking the courage or nerve to kill himself, and shuddering at the idea of life imprisonment with the woman he had promised to love and cherish, he confessed to a murder he did not commit, and was ready to go upon the gallows or to penal servitude for life in the stead of the real murderer.

Now he is free, and miserable, and in his home at Lubeck, in Germany. He is envying Franz Holz, who is awaiting the gallows.

Devel admits sadly that he had a double purpose in wanting to die on the gallows. First, that he would escape his wife; and, second, that, by being hanged he would make it improbable that any other man should meet his fate--not his fate on the gallows, but his fate in having wedded Frau Devel.

The case, which was cleared up by the Hamburg police, furnished a problem that would have defied the cunning of Sherlock Holmes and all his kindred analysts. Briefly stated, the facts in the case, which is the strangest one ever given to a detective department to solve, are these:

WOMAN WAS ROBBED AND MURDERED.

A few months ago a certain Frau Gimble, of Munich, was cruelly murdered by a man. The evident motive of the deed was robbery, and that the crime was planned and premeditated there was sufficient evidence. Every clew and circumstance pointed to Franz Holz. He was known to have been at or near the scene of the murder shortly before its commission. He knew the woman, and had knowledge that she kept a considerable sum of money in her home. He was known to have been without money for days prior to the murder, and immediately after the deed, and before the body was discovered, he had appeared with a quantity of money, made some purchases, bought drinks for acquaintances, and then disappeared.

The police were on his trail within a short time after the finding of the body of the murdered woman. Holz had fled toward Berlin, and a warning was sent in all directions, containing descriptions of the fugitive.

The awfulness of the deed attracted the more attention because of the locality and the ruthless and cruel manner of its commission. While the police were making a rapid search for the fugitive Holz, Hugo Devel, a well-to-do tradesman in Lubeck, surrendered himself to the police of his home town and confessed that he, and not Holz, had committed the crime. Devel had been in Hamburg at the time the crime was committed. His confession, which destroyed all the evidence and all the theories implicating Holz, staggered the detectives.

DEVEL CONFESSES TO THE CRIME.

Although apparently saved from a remarkable network of circumstantial evidence, and no longer wanted for the murder of the Gimble woman, the German police reasoned that Holz, if he had not fled because of that crime, must have fled because of some other crime. So the department, which has a name a couple of feet long, which in English would mean, "the department for finding out everything about everybody," kept on the trail.

Meantime the police of Hamburg got possession of Devel and examined him. From the first they were uneasy. He confessed that he murdered the woman to get her money, and beyond that would not tell anything. It is not customary for the police to insist that a man who confesses that he is guilty of murder shall prove it, but there were facts known to the police which made them wonder how it was possible for Devel to have killed the woman. They used the common police methods, and made the prisoner talk. The more he talked the more apparent it became to the police that he was innocent, although he still claimed vehemently that he, and he alone, killed the Gimble woman.

POLICE LEARN HE IS NOT GUILTY.

Some of his statements were ridiculous. For instance, he did not know what quarter of the city the woman lived in. He did not know how she had been murdered. He said he climbed through a window and killed the woman. When pressed, he said the window was the dining-room window. In view of the fact that she was killed while working in a little open, outdoor kitchen when murdered, the police became satisfied that Devel was not the man, and ordered the pursuit of Holz resumed by all departments.

The case even then was a remarkable one, and one which would have defied any theoretical detective. The police proved that it was impossible that Devel should be confessing in order to shield Holz--first, because he never knew Holz; and second, because the police had informed him that the real murderer was in custody, in order to discover a reason for his confession. It was suspected that Devel was partly insane and seeking notoriety. Everything in his life refuted that idea. He was a quiet, orderly citizen, who seldom read newspapers, and who neither was interested in crime or criminals. He owned a small business in Lubeck, attended to it strictly, drank little, and apparently was as sane as any one.

SEARCHING FOR MOTIVE OF CONFESSION.

The case worried the police officials. The absolute lack of reason for Devel's confession stimulated their curiosity. He was held in custody for weeks, and then the police gave up in despair, and, as Holz had been arrested and had confessed to everything, the release of Devel was ordered. The order of release proved the move that revealed the truth. When he was told that he was free to return home, Devel broke down and begged the police to keep him in prison, to hang him, to poison him, but not to send him home.

In his agony he confessed that the only reason he confessed the murder was that he desired to get hanged, and that he preferred hanging to life with his wife.

The hard-hearted police set him free--literally threw him out of the prison, and he returned to his wife in Lubeck. The following day he resumed charge of his business.

An English correspondent visited Devel in his shop and made certain inquiries of him regarding the case. As the hanging editor would say, "the condemned man was nervous." He was afraid his wife would read what he said, but the correspondent finally got him to tell.

"I desired to be hung," said Devel, mournfully. "Life is not worth the living, and with my wife it is worse than death. If I had been hanged no other man would marry my wife, and I would save them from my fate. Many times have I planned to kill myself to escape her. That is sin, and I lack the bravery to kill myself, besides. If they will not hang me I must continue to live with my wife."

Devel states, among other things, that these are the chief grievances against married life in general, and his wife in particular:

She was slender, and became fat and strong.

She was beautiful, and became ugly and coarse.

She was tender, and grew hard.

She was loving, and grew virulent.

She grew whiskers on her chin.

She called him "pig."

She wore untidy clothes, and her hair was unkempt.

She refused to give him beer.

Her breath smelled of onions and of garlic.

She threw hot soup upon him.

She continually upbraided him because there were no children.

She scolded him in the presence of neighbors.

She refused to permit him to bring his friends home.

She came into his store and scolded him.

She accused him of infidelity.

She disturbed him when he slept in the garden on Sundays.

She made him cook his own dinners.

She spilled his beer when he drank quietly with friends.

She told tales about him among the neighbors, and injured his business.

She served his sausages and his soup cold, and sometimes did not have his meals for him when he came home.

She did not make the beds nor clean the house.

She took cards out of his skat deck.

She talked continually, and scolded him for everything or nothing.

She opened the windows when he closed them, and closed them when he opened them.

She poured water into his shoes while he slept.

She cut off his dachshund's tail.

These things, he said, made him prefer to be hanged to living with her.

Incidentally Holz, who is awaiting execution, expresses an earnest desire to trade places with Herr Devel.

There is no accounting for tastes.

A CLEVER SHOPLIFTER.

DETECTIVE WOOLDRIDGE FINDS A FAIR CRIMINAL.

While passing through the Fair, one of the largest retail dry goods establishments in Chicago, Detective Wooldridge noticed one of the cleverest shoplifters that ever operated in Chicago, Bertha Lebecke, known as "Fainting Bertha."

She was standing in front of the handkerchief counter, where her actions attracted Wooldridge's attention, and he concluded to watch her. She called the girl's attention to something on the shelf and as she turned to get it Bertha's hand reached out and took a half dozen expensive lace handkerchiefs, which disappeared in the folds of her skirt.

The act was performed so quickly and with such cleverness that it would have gone unnoticed unless one were looking right at her and saw her take the handkerchiefs.

From the handkerchief counter she went to the drug department, where she secured several bottles of perfume. As she was leaving this counter she met a Central detective who had arrested her before for the same offense. He stopped a few yards from her to make some trifling purchases. She, thinking he was watching her, left the store.

From the Fair she went to Siegel-Cooper's, another large dry goods store several blocks away. Detective Wooldridge followed her. She was seen to go from counter to counter, and from each one she succeeded in getting some article.

As she was leaving the store she was placed under arrest by Detective Wooldridge and taken to the Police Station.

When she was arrested she fainted, and a great crowd gathered around her, and many of the women cried and implored Detective Wooldridge not to arrest her, but he would not be moved by any of them to let her go free.

When she arrived at the Police Station she was searched, and beneath the folds of her skirt was found a strong waist pocket which looked like a petticoat. It consisted of two pieces of material gathered full at the top with a strong cord or puckering string run through, and sewed together around the edges. In front of this great bag was a slit two feet long opening from the top to within a few inches of the bottom. This petticoat was worn under the dress skirt. On each side of the outside skirt was a long slit concealed by the folds of the skirt, and with one hand she could slip the stolen articles in through the slit in the inside of her dress and into the petticoat bag to the opening in front. The capacity of the bag was enormous. She had stolen some $40 or $50 worth of goods when arrested. The following morning she was arraigned in the Police Court and heavily fined, and the goods were restored to the merchants.

Bertha Lebecke, 27 years old, is conceded by Illinois state authorities to be the most troublesome person who ever crossed the state line from any direction at any time.

Just how large a cash bonus the state treasury today might be willing to advance could it be assured of Bertha's deportation forever beyond the confines of Illinois is something difficult to estimate, but it is certain that in the asylums for the insane at Kankakee, Elgin and Bartonville, and in the state penitentiary at Joliet there are attendants on salaries who would make personal contributions to help swell the possible fund.

Yet "Fainting Bertha" Lebecke is one of the prettiest, blondest, most delicate handed little bits of well-developed femininity that ever made a marked success in deceiving people of both sexes and all conditions in public, afterwards deceiving officials of jails, asylums and penitentiaries until bars and gates and frowning walls were as cobwebs before her.

SLEEPS ALL DAY; MAKES NIGHT HIDEOUS.

Gates of steel never have held her in jail or asylum. In the mightier penitentiaries she has made herself such an uncontrolled fury by night--sleeping calmly all day long and resting for the next seance--that penitentiary gates have opened for her in the hope of having her maintained as an asylum ward. After which "Fainting Bertha" has secured keys to asylum doors and gone her untrammeled way straight back to a police record which for years has shown her to be one of the most remarkable pickpockets, diamond snatchers and shoplifters of her time.

Making such a nuisance of herself in the penitentiary as no longer to be tolerated in a refined convict community, she proves her madness. In the locked, barred, asylum she proves her cunning at escape. And, once more at liberty, the abandon with which she goes after personal property in any form, at any time and under any circumstances, proves her skill as a thief and her unbalance in the "get away."

There is her escape from the asylum at Elgin on the night of December 25, 1904. Christmas eve she had fainted in the arms of an attendant and in the scurrying which followed had secured the keys to the gates. On the night of Christmas she went out of the Elgin asylum, boarded an electric car for Aurora and bought a railroad ticket to Peoria.

STOLE $1,000 WORTH OF GOODS IN TWO DAYS.

On the way to Peoria she relieved the conductor of $30 in bills, secreting them in her hat. In Peoria, within forty-eight hours, she had stolen a thousand dollars' worth of goods from stores, registered at three hotels under assumed names, and was in a chair car with a ticket for Omaha when the Peoria police had followed her easy tracks through the city. Perhaps the broadest, most easily identified track was that which she left in a barber shop in the National Hotel, where she appeared for an egg shampoo. Two eggs had been broken into her shiny hair when Bertha promptly fainted and rolled out of the chair. As a count of shop equipment showed nothing missing an hour later, the barber shop proprietor was at a loss as to the purpose of the faint.

This girlish young woman, with the baby dimples and skin of peach and cream, the innocent blue eyes, and the smiles that play so easily over her face as she talks vivaciously and with keen sense of both wit and humor, is a study for the psychologist. There is no affectedness of speech--for the moment it is childishly genuine. She could sit in a drawing room and have half a dozen admirers in her train.

But reform schools, asylums and penitentiaries are institutions through which this young woman has graduated up to that pinnacle of notorious accomplishment which today is centering upon "Fainting Bertha" Lebecke the official attentions of a great state. What to do with her is the question.

KEPT AT SOUTH BARTONVILLE WITHOUT LOCKS.

Dr. George A. Zeller, superintendent of the asylum for the incurable insane at South Bartonville, having fought for the care of Bertha in his institution, purposes to make her a tractable patient and willing to remain. He has the history of his institution back of him, from whose doors and windows he has torn away $6,000 worth of steel netting and steel bars.

In the first place, "Fainting Bertha" will have nothing to gain by fainting at Bartonville; she is promised merely a drowning dash of cold water when she falls. She can secure no keys by fainting, for the reason that there are no keys to doors. A nurse, wideawake for her eight-hour nursing duty, is always at hand and always watchful.

"Take away the show of restraint if you would have a patient cease fighting against restraint," is the philosophy of Dr. Zeller. "Human vigilance always was and always will be the greatest safeguard for the insane."

If "Fainting Bertha" Lebecke were a grizzled amazon, even, she might be a simpler proposition for the state. She is too pretty and plump, however, to think of restraining by the harsher methods, if harsh methods are employed. She can pass out of a storm of hysterical tears in an instant and smile through them like a stream of sunshine. Or as quickly she can throw off the pretty little witticism and airy conceit of her baby hands and become a vixen fury with blazing blue eyes that are a warning to her antagonist.

And at large, exercising her charms, she can become the "good fellow" to the everlasting disappearance of half a dozen different valuables in one's tie or pockets.

HISTORY OF "FAINTING BERTHA."

Bertha Lebecke says she was born in Council Bluffs, Ia., in 1880. Save for the trick of raising her brows while animated, thus wrinkling her forehead before her time, she might pass easily for twenty-three years of age. In these twenty-seven years, however, Bertha Lebecke has kept the institutions of four states guessing--to some extent experimenting.

Her father was a cobbler, and there were five children, only one other of them living. The father is dead. The mother, with the one sister, is living in Council Bluffs. Seven asylums and one state's prison have held her--for a time; Kankakee three times and Elgin twice, with two escapes from each place credited to her childish cunning. But today the face of Bertha Lebecke in trouble anywhere in Christian civilization would draw helping funds for less than her asking.

"Don't write that I am the awful creature that the papers have pictured me," she exclaimed, with a tragic movement of her little hands. "Oh, I have been a bad girl--I know that--but not as bad as they accuse me of being," burying her face in her arm.

But in a moment she was sitting up, dry eyed, stitching on the bit of linen "drawn work" which she said was intended for Gov. Deneen at Springfield.

CRITICISES THE LINEN PURCHASED BY THE STATE.

"But what awful linen!" she exclaimed, holding it out to Dr. Zeller as she sat in a ward with twenty other women inmates regarded as among the hardest to watch and control among the 1,900 inmates of the great institution. "I'm surprised at you! Can't you buy better linen than that?"

But while she talked and the doctor smiled, a small key fitting nothing in particular was laid by Dr. Zeller close at hand and it disappeared in ten seconds. Likewise a pencil from the doctor's pocket found its way almost unnoticed into "Fainting Bertha's" blonde hair. Her smiling face all turned to frowns when finally, one at a time, he took the key from her waist and the pencil from its hiding place in her hair.

"Did you ever know a man named Gunther?" asked Dr. Zeller suddenly.

"Yes--what of it?" she asked quickly, with a show of nervousness.

"He is in the penitentiary."

"Good! Good!" exclaimed the girl. "I'm delighted to hear it. He ought to have been there long ago, and he ought to stay there the rest of his life!"

This was the man whom Bertha charged with responsibility for her first wrong step as a girl, sending her first to the Glenwood (Ia.) Home for the Feebleminded. Later she charges that this man taught her the fainting trick, by which she faints in the arms of a man or woman wearing jewelry or carrying money and in the confusion biting the stone from a pin and swallowing it, or with small, supple hand taking a purse from a pocket or a watch from its fob, perhaps with innocent eyes and dimpled face assisting the loser in the search for the missing valuable.

BERTHA SAYS GUNTHER PROMISED TO MARRY HER.

"That man Gunther promised to marry me," she said, lowering her voice. "He sent me out to steal and when I wouldn't do it he used to beat me when I came home. Do you wonder I'm what I am?"

There was a burst of what might have been tears. Her face was buried and her figure shook with sobs. But in five seconds the dimpled face appeared again, dry eyed, and at a remark on the moment she turned toward her auditors, winking an eyelid slyly.

"Fainting Bertha" Lebecke has almost lost consecutive track of the asylums and prisons in which she has been locked.

From this Glenwood home for the feebleminded she was released. She got into trouble again and was sent to the Clarinda State Hospital for the Insane. Here, in the words of the superintendent, she was looked upon as a case of "moral imbecility, with some maniacal complications." Here an operation was performed, and, in the opinion of the superintendent, she was eligible to discharge soon afterwards as improved.

St. Bernard's Asylum at Council Bluffs cared for her for a time, but she succeeded in escaping from it and was not returned.

In Asylum No. 3 at Nevada, Mo., in spite of the close watch kept upon her, "Fainting Bertha" escaped several times, but was caught soon after and returned to the institution. On December 21, 1901, she was discharged as not insane and returned to Omaha, where she had lived for a time. Here Bertha remained about two years, acting as a maid of all work in households. Her experience in Chicago and Illinois is stranger than any fiction.

MOST UNRULY PRISONER IN JOLIET.

On a charge of shoplifting she was given an indeterminate sentence of one to ten years in the penitentiary at Joliet.

Records of Joliet prison show her to have been the most unruly prisoner ever confined in that institution. Her conduct was such that Prison Physician Fletcher declared that she was insane and she was sent to the asylum at Kankakee.

Twice she escaped from Kankakee, once, she says, with the aid of an employee of the institution, whom she refuses to name. This first escape was made within four months of her arrival at the institution; the second after a year. On her return to that institution for criminals her actions were such that the hospital authorities decided that she was not insane and sent her back to Joliet prison.

On this second imprisonment "Fainting Bertha" showed what she could do in making herself impossible even in a prison. Her cell was in the north wing of the building, overlooking the street. She would appear in the window with her clothing torn to ribbons, shrieking that she was being murdered. According to prison officials, there was no language too impossible for her glib tongue. Her furies of temper caused her to heap unspeakable abuse upon matrons and guards alike. Deputy Warden Sims, responsible for order and discipline, says he has been abused by her beyond belief. Her plan was to sleep in daylight and make the whole night hideous with her screams and cries and unspeakable language.

PENITENTIARY GLAD TO BE RID OF HER.

As a last resort the tortured prison officials at Joliet, taking the diagnosis of Physician Fletcher, sent her to the care of Supt. Podstata at the Elgin asylum. There, after consultation of the asylum physicians, it was found that she should have been confined in an asylum for the feebleminded when she was younger; that, lacking this treatment, she had grown and developed such destructive tendencies that a hospital for the insane was the only haven for her.