Loe raamatut: «Mississippi Outlaws and the Detectives», lehekülg 17

CHAPTER III

The Dangerous Side of the Woman's Character. – Mr. Pinkerton makes a new Move. – Robert A. Pinkerton as Adamson, the drunken, but wealthy, Stranger. – A "funny" Game of Cards. – The drunken Stranger has a violent Struggle to escape from Mrs. Sanford, and is afterwards robbed – according to the Papers. – Detective Ingham arrested, but very shortly liberated.

It has already been observed by the reader that, while Ingham had learned nothing new about the fate of poor Trafton, he had obtained a very excellent understanding of Mrs. Sanford's character. Her most prominent characteristic was the love of money, and this passion seemed to overpower all others. Her language and manners at times showed that she had once been a member of good society, while her reading and declamations from Shakespeare and other poets gave evidence of great natural talents. Combined with her greed for money was a strong element of sensuality, and though she usually granted her favors only where she expected a large pecuniary reward, still, at times, she was apparently as prodigal in that regard as if she had no care whatever for money.

Her mind was naturally powerful, and I had little hope of breaking down her will; she would evidently show fight to the last, and all that I could hope would be to learn enough secretly to insure her conviction without her confession. She was as shrewd as if all her life had been passed in evading the toils of the law; even in her sleep, or when pretending to sleep, she would talk with great freedom; but, as she never gave any intelligence of importance on such occasions, I put little faith in the soundness of her sleep. In her readiness to assist Ingham to hide his plunder, I saw the dangerous side of this woman's nature strongly revealed. If she were so willing to act as an accomplice in one crime, why not in another? As she had been so successful in her encounter with Trafton, might she not be glad to carry out the same scheme again? At least, there would be no harm in putting an opportunity before her, and her actions in one case might give some clue to those by which she had succeeded in the former affair.

"Yes, that will be a good plan," I soliloquized; "I will send a young fellow there with a large sum of money, and he will get drunk. Then, if she tries to rob him, I shall be certain that she did the same with young Trafton."

I therefore arranged that Ingham should pretend that he had made the acquaintance of a stranger from the East, who had a large sum of money; he was to tell Mrs. Sanford that he would bring the stranger to her rooms to spend the evening; the stranger would be rather drunk when he arrived there, and they would give him more liquor, until he should be quite drunk; if she should then try to rob him, he would get away as well as possible, and Ingham would go after him. In a little while, Ingham would return and show her a package of bonds, stolen from the stranger, and tell her that he had knocked the man down with a brick, before robbing him. The next morning a notice would appear in the papers to the effect that a stranger had been found in the burnt district, lying on the ground in an insensible condition, having been knocked down and robbed.

Ingham was instructed as to his part in the affair, and next day he told Mrs. Sanford that there was a young fellow down town whose acquaintance he had made, who had a large amount of money with him. Ingham said that the man's name was Adamson, and that he was a gambler in good luck. He wanted to bring Adamson to the house that evening, and she was very anxious that he should come.

I intrusted the stranger's part to my son, Robert A. Pinkerton, who assumed the name of Adamson for the occasion.

Accordingly, the two detectives met at my office, and Adamson was given five hundred dollars in fifty dollar bonds. They then went to Mrs. Sanford's house, and, on arriving there, Mr. Adamson was quite unsteady on his legs. Mrs. Sanford was nicely dressed to receive the stranger, and she made herself very agreeable to him, in spite of his apparent drunkenness. They played cards together for a time, and then Adamson proposed to play euchre with Ingham seven points for five dollars a game. While they were playing, Adamson became quite reckless, and he threw down his cards with such a look of drunken gravity as to be quite amusing. He lost almost every game, and, at length, he wanted to go out for a drink. Mrs. Sanford told him to go on with his game, and she would get what he wished.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked.

"Anything excep' warrer," he replied.

"What do you know about water?" asked Ingham; "I don't believe you can tell how it looks."

"Tha's a lie. I know how to tell warrer's well's you. I (hic) can allus tell warrer – it looks jus' like gin. Get us some gin."

While Mrs. Sanford was gone, Ingham and Adamson arranged that the latter should pretend to have lost all his money to the former, and that he should insist upon playing one game for fifty dollars. This he was to lose, and he was to become angry and go away. Adamson then gave Ingham about fifty dollars to show as his winnings, and presently Mrs. Sanford came in. She had been introduced to Adamson under the assumed name of Mrs. Robertson, and he therefore addressed her by that name.

"Mrs. Rob'son, 'f you'd come sooner (hic), you'd ha' seen th' funniest game 't ever was played. Never 'ad such bad luck 'n m' life, an' now I've los' all m' money. Gimme big (hic) drink of gin."

Mrs. Sanford poured him a glass half full, and also poured a little into two other glasses. When she turned her head, Ingham emptied the contents of his glass into the coal-scuttle, exchanged glasses with Adamson, and emptied his drink into the same place. When they stood up to drink, Mrs. Sanford was the only one who really did so, the two men merely going through the motions, with great apparent satisfaction. Adamson then became more and more excited.

"Tell you, Miss'r Hang'em, or whatever y'r name is, I'll play you a (hic) game f'r fiffy dolls; can beat you 't euchre any day th' week. Wha' you say? Wan' to play?"

"No, I don't want to play for so much, but I'll play you for twenty-five dollars."

"Fiffy or nothin'. Come, now; 'f you're 'fraid to play, say so. I c'n play like a steam-whissle, I can."

"I'll play you for twenty-five," replied Ingham, irresolutely.

"No, sir; I won't (hic) play'ny more small games. You've won more'n fiffy doll'rs fr'm me now, 'n I wan' m' revenge. You goin' ter gimme a (hic) chance t'win it back?"

"All right," said Ingham; "I'll play you just one game for fifty dollars, and then we'll stop, no matter who wins. Just wait a minute, until I go to my room for a handkerchief."

While he was gone, Adamson pulled out a package of ten United States bonds, of the denomination of fifty dollars each, and said that he would put up one of them against Ingham's fifty dollars, and that he should send the rest to his mother. When Ingham returned, he counted out fifty dollars, and Adamson laid down one of his bonds.

"What's that?" asked Ingham. "Is that worth fifty dollars?" and picking it up, he examined it carefully.

"Yes'r; tha's worth more'n fiffy doll'rs; tha's worth fiffy doll'rs in gold."

"Will you guarantee that it is good and all right?" asked Ingham.

"Course I will; didn't you ever see a (hic) bond b'fore?"

"Oh! I know that's all right," said Mrs. Sanford, who was beginning to show the effect of the gin very strongly; "I've had bon's like that, too. Th' young man who died here had eighteen thousan' bonds like this."

"Well, all right," said Ingham; "let us cut for deal."

As the game progressed, Mrs. Sanford felt the strength of the gin more and more, and she soon became quite sick. Ingham got her some warm water, and she went into her own room to vomit. She soon returned, feeling much better, and the game went on, Ingham winning by one point. Adamson then became very angry, and said he was going out; and, although the others begged him to stay, he put on his overcoat and insisted on going away. Ingham finally said that he didn't care whether Adamson went or stayed, and, so saying, he walked off to his own room. Mrs. Sanford used every argument to induce Adamson to stay all night, but, with a drunken man's obstinacy, he refused to remain any longer. He walked downstairs, with Mrs. Sanford clinging to him and coaxing him all the way, until they reached the lower landing, when she put her back against the door and refused to let him out. They then had a violent struggle, in the course of which she tore open his coat and vest in the endeavor to get at the bonds in his breast pocket. Finally, he was obliged to use all his force to get away, as she was like a tigress in her anger, and was evidently determined to rob him. Indeed, had he not been an active, muscular young man, she would, undoubtedly, have finished him then and there; as it was, he barely succeeded in making his escape, by forcing her back upon the stairs, and then springing out of the door before she could seize him again.

Meantime, Ingham was a silent spectator of this scene from the top of the stairs, where he stood holding the lamp. As soon as Adamson was out, Ingham rushed down and told Mrs. Sanford that he intended to have those bonds anyhow. He told her to sit up for him, and then ran out after Adamson. In less than an hour, he returned and saw Mrs. Sanford watching for him from a front window. When he went upstairs, she was still somewhat under the influence of the liquor she had drank, but she asked him where he had been.

"That's all right," he replied, flipping over the ends of the package of bonds; "I guess I've made a good enough haul this time."

"Oh! you are a splendid fellow," she said, leaning on his shoulder. "I didn't think you would dare to do it."

"I dare to do anything where there is any money to be made. You won't go back on me, will you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean, that you won't give me away to the police?" he asked, anxiously.

"Why, of course I won't," she replied. "I never yet went back on any one who did the fair thing by me; and I know you will do that, won't you?"

"Oh! certainly I will; I will make you a nice present to-morrow."

"I don't want a present to-morrow," she said, sullenly; "I want my share now."

"But I shall have to cash these bonds first," he said. "They would be of no use to you in their present shape."

"I can get them cashed as well as you can," she replied. "Come, hand over; I don't want half, but I want my share now."

"What is your hurry?" he demanded. "Can't you wait until to-morrow?"

"No, I can't; I want my share, and if you are going to be mean, I will be mean too. You can't keep those bonds unless I say so, and if I choose to report you, I can have them all taken from you, besides sending you to Joliet."

"Oh! if that's the way you talk," replied Ingham, "I shall know what to do. If you can't trust me until to-morrow, I can't trust you at all. You can't scare me by threats, and if you want to get any of this money, you must deal fairly with me; I'm not afraid of being arrested."

"All right, then," she answered, with a wicked look in her eye; "we'll see whether you will 'come down' or not. If you want to keep it all, I shall take care that you don't keep any of it. I'm going to the police station at once."

She was, evidently, just ugly enough to do as she said; and, as Ingham had the bonds in his possession, he did not fancy the idea of letting her go for the officers just then; so he replied:

"You can go right along, if you want to, but, in that case, I shall go somewhere else."

He then quickly brought his hat and overcoat into the sitting-room; and, seeing that she was still making preparations to go out, he took a hurried departure, taking a room at a small hotel for the night.

In the Chicago Tribune of January 14, 1872, the following item appeared:

"Highway Robbery

"At about twelve o'clock last night, an officer of Pinkerton's Preventive Police stumbled over the body of a man near the corner of State and Washington streets. Stooping down, he discovered that the man was half drunk, half insensible, bruised and bleeding. On being restored to his senses, he gave his name as Robert Adamson, stating that he had come from Troy, New York, having with him several hundred dollars in currency and bonds. The time between drinks was very short yesterday afternoon, and he has no clear idea of what happened after dark, up to the time the officer found him minus his money and valuables. He remembers drinking frequently with a stranger, who made himself very agreeable, but cannot state the time when they parted company. He describes the stranger as a tall slender man, with black side-whiskers, giving a sufficiently minute description of him to afford the police a valuable clue, and it is likely that the highwayman will soon be overhauled."

About noon of the day that the above was published, Ingham went to call upon Mrs. Sanford, and she received him very coolly.

"How do you feel this morning?" he asked. "Does your head ache?"

"No, I feel all right," she replied. "Have you seen that fellow that was here last night?"

"No, I have not seen him," he replied. "Why do you ask? Has he been here looking for me?"

"Yes, he came here this morning, and asked me all kinds of questions about you; and now, if you are arrested, it will be your own fault. I would have shielded you, if you had done the fair thing by me; but now you must look out for yourself."

"You are very unreasonable, Mrs. Sanford," he replied; "it would have been very dangerous to have left any of those bonds with you, for if the man had brought the police here, they would have searched the house, and would have found the bonds. Then you would have been arrested, and you would have been obliged to tell where you got the bonds. Now, as soon as I get the bonds cashed, I will treat you handsomely, but I do not intend to run any risks."

"There would have been no danger of their finding the bonds, if you had left them with me; and, even if they had found them, I never would have told where I got them. You might have been fair enough to give me one hundred dollars at least."

"He did not have any money besides what I won from him, except the bonds; and, as I said before, I did not dare to leave those in the house."

"I am sorry I ever let you into my house," she said, presently. "I thought a great deal of you, and I expected to assist you when I received my money; but now I have lost confidence in you. I suppose, if you got a chance at my money, you would take that too. I begin to think I know where my watch went; the detective wanted to search you for it two or three times, but I wouldn't let him, and this is the way you reward my confidence."

"Mrs. Sanford, you are talking wild," he answered, angrily. "I have always treated you well, and when I made a raise the other day, I gave you a part of it. I intended to do the same this time, but you acted so suspiciously that I thought best to wait awhile. Now, as soon as I get these bonds cashed, I will give you some more money, but not till then."

"You can keep your old money," she retorted; "I don't want any of it. You think you were very smart, yesterday, but you don't know what danger you are in. I could have you arrested this very day if I chose."

"I know you could; but what good would it do you? I should be punished, to be sure, but you would not get a cent; while, if you keep quiet, I will make you a fine present."

"I don't want your present, nor you either," she replied. "I don't want you in my house any longer." Then, as Ingham started toward his room, she said: "Keep out of there; you can't go into that room, for I've let it to a young couple, who are in there now."

"All right, then," replied Ingham; "I will call again to-morrow."

"You needn't take things so mighty cool," she replied, perfectly white with anger. "You may find yourself in jail before you know it."

"I know it," he answered, carelessly; "but it's my nature to take things cool, and so, if you want to put me in jail, you can; but you can't scare me a bit, and you may as well understand it first as last."

The following morning, I received from Mr. Trafton, who was then in Philadelphia, the numbers of the bonds which were missing. They were five-twenty bonds of the issue of 1865, numbers 57,109 and 87,656, series A, and number 37,515, series B. Information of the robbery had been sent to the Treasury Department at Washington, and to all the sub-treasurers in the United States, in order that, in case any of the interest coupons should be presented for payment, they might be traced back, possibly, to the hands of the thief.

In The Tribune of Monday appeared the following item:

"BEATEN AND ROBBED

"A MAN TAKES A WALK WITH A COMPARATIVE STRANGER, AND IS KNOCKED DOWN AND ROBBED OF NEARLY $1,000 IN GREENBACKS.

"Mention was made in yesterday's Tribune of the finding of a man, named Robert Adamson, on the corner of State and Washington streets, he having been beaten and robbed of several hundred dollars in greenbacks. The police were looking for him yesterday, but failed to find him. It was ascertained that he had been boarding at No. 92 West Madison street, and that, on Saturday night, he indulged in several games of euchre with a man who also boarded at the place. While the game was in progress, and Adamson was under the influence of liquor, he displayed an express company's envelope full of money. At the conclusion of the game, the two men went out to 'take a walk.' Yesterday morning, Adamson's companion returned to the house, and, it is said, offered the landlady $500 if she would say nothing about his having played cards with Adamson. She refused, and would not allow the fellow to take his trunk away, which he wanted to do very badly. The landlady sent her little daughter to police headquarters for an officer, and one was sent over to arrest the man; but he had left previous to the officer's arrival. It is not known how much money Adamson had, but it must have been in the neighborhood of $1,000, or the man who took it would not have made such a munificent offer to have the fact of the theft kept secret."

In accordance with my instructions, Ingham went to Mrs. Sanford's house about noon on Monday. He told her that he had read in the paper that she had reported him to the police as being the assailant of Robert Adamson. She denied ever having done so, and offered to swear that she had never betrayed him. He replied that he felt sure there must be a mistake, as he could not believe it possible that she would betray him. He felt perfect confidence in her, and had no fears that she would try to have him arrested.

"Besides," he continued, "I don't care now whether they arrest me or not. I'm not afraid of being held, for I am generally shrewd enough to cover my tracks pretty thoroughly, if I have a start of two or three days."

"You can't prove that you didn't rob that man," she replied.

"I don't need to; all the proof must come from the other side, and they haven't any witnesses who can swear that I did the robbery."

"I could prove it, if I choose to go against you," she said.

"No, you couldn't," he replied. "You didn't see me; and, while your testimony would, perhaps, be circumstantial evidence, your oath would be no better than mine, as you have no one to swear to the same thing."

"Oh! I have great credit up at the station," she said, in a boasting manner. "They recollect the finding of eighteen thousand dollars under the pillow of the young man who died here, and they have all confidence in me, for they know I might have easily stolen all he had. But I think it is best never to do anything wrong, and then there is no fear of getting into trouble."

"That's all right, if you can do it," he replied; "but I must have a living, and if I can't get it one way, I will another."

Just then some one knocked at the door, and presently Charlie Stokes, the policeman, walked in. They talked together a few minutes, and then Stokes said:

"Step this way a moment, Mr. Ingham, I wish to speak to you alone."

They walked to the head of the stairs, and Ingham then asked what he wished to talk about.

"Well, there seems to be some kind of a misunderstanding at the police station," said Stokes, keeping his eyes on the ground, "and they have sent me to ask you to walk around to the office."

"A misunderstanding about what?" asked Ingham. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know all about it," continued Stokes, in the same mysterious way.

"I beg your pardon; I don't know what you have reference to; please explain."

"Oh! you know well enough. You are wanted on account of that man you robbed last Saturday night."

"I did not rob any man Saturday night, and I am surprised that you should make such a charge against me, knowing me as well as you do," said Ingham, in an injured tone.

"I have nothing to do with it," replied Stokes. "I am simply obeying the captain's order, and I have no personal feeling against you whatever; but I have been sent to take you down to the station, and I must obey orders."

"Then you arrest me?" inquired Ingham.

"Well, you must go to the station with me to see the captain."

"Not unless you arrest me," replied Ingham. "I want to know whether I am to consider myself under arrest."

"Yes, you can consider yourself arrested, if you want to," replied Stokes, who did not seem to like to take the responsibility of making the arrest under the circumstances.

"I don't want to, and I shan't, unless you say so," persisted Ingham.

"Well, then, I do say so, and we will go now. We can walk along together like two friends, however, and no one need know that you are my prisoner."

"I don't care who knows it," said Ingham; "but I think there is something strange in the way of arresting me."

"Well, I hope you will come out all right," Stokes replied, adding significantly, "and perhaps you will, if certain folks don't appear against you."

"I'm not afraid," replied Ingham; "there is no one who can say anything against me."

On arriving at the station, the same consideration was shown to him, and the station-keeper asked him to make himself comfortable in the main sitting-room.

"Am I under arrest?" he asked again.

"No, not exactly; you can take it easy for a time, and you will have an examination soon."

"If I am not under arrest," Ingham replied, "I shall not stay here."

"Why not?" asked the station-keeper.

"Because I have no business here unless I am a prisoner," was Ingham's reply.

"We can lock you up in a cell, if we want to," said the station-keeper; "but we thought you would prefer to be comfortable up here."

"Then I am a prisoner?" again inquired Ingham, who seemed anxious to have his status satisfactorily explained.

"Yes, confound it; if you are determined to have it so, you are."

About five o'clock the sergeant of police came in, and asked Ingham his name.

"Ingham," was the reply.

"Jack Ingham?"

"No; John Ingham."

"What is your business?" asked the sergeant.

"I'm not employed at all, just now."

"Have you ever had any work to do in this city?" again queried the sergeant.

"No; not yet."

"Who was that man you were playing cards with the other night?"

"What night?" asked Ingham.

"Well, Saturday night."

"Whereabouts?"

"At your boarding place."

"Oh! I play cards with a great many fellows," Ingham replied. "I don't know which one you mean."

"Well, we know who he was," said the sergeant.

"Then what are you asking me for?" said Ingham. "Am I under arrest?"

"I guess you will have to stay here awhile," was the sergeant's reply.

Presently a number of persons came into the room, and Ingham thought he saw among them one of the bindery girls who had formerly lodged with Mrs. Sanford. She looked at him very hard, and then went out into the hall, where he could hear her talking with the station-keeper and Stokes. He also heard the sergeant call a policeman and give him some instructions, in which Ingham caught the words, "Pinkerton's office." The man then put on his coat and went out. Presently the sergeant approached him again, and, looking at him significantly, said:

"Now we know all about your playing cards with that man, and afterward robbing him."

"I don't know what you mean," Ingham replied; "I don't know what man you are talking about."

"Didn't you see that piece in the paper yesterday?" asked the sergeant.

"I saw a number of pieces in the paper yesterday, but I can't tell which one you are referring to."

The sergeant then showed him the item headed "Highway Robbery," and said:

"Now, we can prove that you came back to your landlady with a large package of money, and offered her five hundred dollars to keep quiet about the fact of your having played cards with this young fellow, and then having followed him out."

"Well, if you can prove that, you had better do it," said Ingham; then, changing his tone, and looking straight in the sergeant's face, he added: "Now, look here, sergeant, if you have any charges against me, just state them."

The sergeant muttered something about locking him up, and started to go out.

"If you lock me up," replied Ingham, coolly, "I hope you are prepared to take the consequences."

"Who the devil are you, anyhow?" asked the sergeant.

"No relation of yours, I assure you," was the reply, and the sergeant went away.

At this time, a tall, dignified man came in and asked the station-keeper a question. The policeman replied that there was no such man there.

"I know better than that," said the stranger, "and I must see him."

The station-keeper declared positively that they had no such man, and the stranger then went upstairs. In a few minutes the sergeant came in and told Ingham to follow him. As they were going upstairs, they met the tall stranger coming down. Ingham felt confident that this man was looking for him, and, in passing, he pinched the stranger's leg. The pinch was returned, and the tall man stopped; but Ingham and the sergeant went up to the captain's room. After asking Ingham his name, the captain said:

"Where were you last Saturday night?"

"That is none of your business," said Ingham.

"Come, now, you needn't put on any airs," said the captain; "I want to know all about this."

"Captain," Ingham replied, "if you have any charges against me, I should like to hear them. I don't put on any airs, but I want to know what I am under arrest for."

Turning to the sergeant, the captain said:

"How long would it take you to bring that man on here, sergeant?"

"Three or four days, at least," was the answer.

Just then the tall stranger entered, and the captain took him into a private room, where they remained some time. When they came out, the sergeant joined the captain for a few minutes, while the tall gentleman introduced himself to Ingham as Judge B – , and said that the captain would let him go. This proved true, for the captain very soon came out, and told Ingham that he was at liberty.