Chapter XIII: Part 13

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.

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THE THOUSAND DOLLAR LESSON.

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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.

I left the hotel, determining to return early in the evening, and keep an eye to the young man. I did so, and I found that he was not a little "cheerful" in his ways about the bar,--treating, quite extensively, apparent strangers, but evidently, after all, not much given to making acquaintances. Finally, he left the bar-room, alone, and walked slowly through the hall, with the air of one who has nothing to do, and was reflecting how to amuse himself.

Near the front entrance of the hotel stood three men chatting,--men whose characters the experienced are never at a loss to know at once; a gentlemanly looking class, well dressed, of affable manners, and of the greatest shrewdness of address; men whose colloquial powers are very great at times, but who know how to measure every word, and adapt it to the precise wants of the individual whom they may happen to address. These were of a class always infesting the hotels, especially the better ones, of the city, and whose business it is to "rope in" strangers into the various gambling saloons.

Upon the approach of Mr. Purvis, two of these worthies, bidding the other a cordial adieu for the evening, and addressing him in a style to indicate that he was a man of unusual importance, withdrew up Broadway. Still this courtliness was evidently intended to bear upon Mr. Purvis, who was in hearing; and as he drew nearer the distinguished gentleman, the latter addressed him, in a mild way, touching the weather,--

"A very pleasant evening, sir."

"Decidedly. You seldom enjoy a finer one here in New York, I suppose?"

"O, I don't know about that. The weather here is usually pretty fair. Are you a stranger, sir, in New York, allow me to ask?"

"Not a stranger exactly, but not a resident. I have been here considerably, off and on--enough to know the city pretty well, I reckon."

"That's my case exactly, for the last few years, though I formerly resided here for a while. A pretty stirring place to get into, if one knows all the avenues of business or pleasure, sir."

"Surely, but I have never had occasion to learn much of these."

"Well, I too have only a limited acquaintance here, yet I always find my way around without much difficulty--generally going about with some friends, of whom I have a few here, formerly from my native State, Connecticut."

"Ah, Connecticut? Do you know anything about Hartford? Perhaps you are from there?"

"Yes, sir, that is my native place, and a pleasant little city 'tis. Great deal of wealth and refinement there, sir."

"Yes, I know it. I had a cousin from Arkansas there, at Trinity College, some years ago, and a gay boy, too, was Bill Sebastian" (if I rightly remember the name he gave). "I visited him there during his collegiate course, and spent a delightful week. Old Sam Colt was a trifle gay--wasn't he? Well, we had a jolly time with him one night, and several more of the jolly men of Hartford, in rooms at the old City Hotel. You know where that is?"

"Of course; and it has witnessed many a festive meeting. The Trinity boys always go there for their fun."

"I am glad to learn that you are from Hartford. I've thought I should visit that town before I return. Do you intend to return there soon?"

"Yes, I may go up to-morrow, but I may remain here a day or two more. Should you be going up when I go, I should be pleased to have your company."

"Well, stranger, I hope it will happen that we go up together, if I go at all. And now let us exchange cards. My name is Purvis, as you see, of Louisville, Kentucky."

The lounger fumbled in his pockets for a card to give to Mr. Purvis, but finding none, half-blushingly announced that his cards were out, but that his name was George Ellsworth.

"Ellsworth? Well, sir, you rejoice in a right honorable name. I've heard my Uncle Throckmorton talk a great deal about one of the Ellsworths of Connecticut."

It was evident to me that "Ellsworth" was making fast inroads into the good graces of Purvis, and of the latter's character I was beginning to be at a loss; for though I had from his name connected him at first with a criminal transaction, yet his manner, in conversation with "Ellsworth," did not seem to sustain my early suspicions.

Their conversation now assumed a lower tone, as Purvis had drawn nearer up to Ellsworth, the two acting very like old acquaintances by this time; so I managed to draw nearer them, fumbling over the envelopes of some old letters I had taken from my pocket, and assuming to be in a "brown study" over something.

"Well, isn't this a little dull, Mr. Purvis? I've been waiting here an hour or so, expecting a particular friend along, with whom I was going out for a while to look about. But he has been obliged to disappoint me, I suppose," said Ellsworth.

"Yes, it is a little dull, as you say; a stranger, especially, is apt to be very lonesome in a big city. Do you ever take wine, Mr. Ellsworth?"

"Seldom, sir, especially when away from home; but I don't mind a glass now and then."

"Come, sir, accompany me, if you will. I would invite you to my room to take wine, but unfortunately they're so crowded here they've been obliged to put me far up. Suppose we go to the bar?"

"Well, if you please; but you'll pardon me when I say that I must not indulge but once now. The night is long yet, and we shall have other occasion, perhaps, to drink. I know how generous and impulsive you Southern gentlemen are."

"O, surely, I know we are apt to 'go ahead,' like Davy Crockett, when we are right, and when we are not, too; but come along, please," and the trusting Purvis carelessly locked his arm in that of Ellsworth, and they moved towards the bar-room.

My first intention was to follow them, but I hesitated, and waited their return. They were gone a far longer time than necessary to take one glass, and when they came along down the hall, rested but a moment at the door, and stepped out down Broadway together.

"Ellsworth has his victim in sure training," thought I to myself. "Where can they be going?"

Feeling confident that some mischief would be wrought ere the night was passed, I followed on at proper distance, and saw the two lingering for a moment before No. 477 Broadway. Ellsworth seemed more in doubt what to do than Purvis, or less decided. By this time I had, by mingling with sundry pedestrians, managed to approach near enough to Ellsworth and Purvis to hear the latter say,--

"Well, if you think we won't obtrude, let us go up to see your friend for a while."

"No, we shall not obtrude," replied Ellsworth, "but I was thinking if we might not find some more agreeable place,"--but he turned and went up the stairs, followed by Purvis.

In 477, at that time, was a half gambling hell, kept as the private rooms of a worthless sporting son of a distinguished surgeon. I had never been in the place, but had heard that many fast young men gathered there to play cards for fun, and that sometimes a faro-bank was run there for "amusement." Fearing that by some possibility Ellsworth might notice me as the individual having stood near him in the St. Nicholas so long, and suspect something if I went in alone, and undisguised, I was resolving what course to pursue, when my friend, Henry W----, a detective, came along. He was just my size, and wore a blue "swallow-tailed" coat, while I had on a black frock. I took Henry into the small hall-way, and said, "Business up; swap coats with me in a minute; and if you've a pair of false mustaches with you, let me have 'em, Henry."

"I haven't mustaches," said Henry; "but here's something as good," said he, pulling from the skirt of his coat a paper containing a fine long-haired wig. (My hair was cut extremely short for the then prevailing fashion.) The changing of coats, and assuming of the wig, was but a moment's work, and with my promise to Henry "to report in the morning," we parted, and I mounted to the sporting-room in a trice. Walking in coolly, I proceeded quietly to the "bureau," and helped myself, as is the custom in such places, to a small glass of wine, and while drinking, took a survey.

There were my friends Ellsworth and Purvis, the former evidently instructing the other about the ways and habits of such places. This night the faro-bank was in operation in one room, and in another several parties were playing at cards.

After a while I overheard Ellsworth say, "I never play for money, but some one here, I dare say, will take a hand with you if you wish a little amusement," and they sauntered into the card-room, where, without trouble, parties were found to "make up a hand" at an unoccupied table--Ellsworth declining to play, but taking a seat near Purvis, to watch the game. The stakes were small, but during the play Purvis lost a little more than the loose change which he had about him, and was forced to draw a well-filled wallet from his side coat pocket. I noticed a peculiar smile on Ellsworth's face as his eye rested on that wallet; and from that moment I felt that I had work to do. I took an apparently listless interest in the game, and kept my eye as much on Ellsworth as I could. He seemed to be restless. Persons were coming in and going out of the other room especially, and Ellsworth's face always reverted to the door when he heard new footsteps or a new voice. Presently his face brightened, and he got up, went into the other room, took a glass of wine, and on returning, affecting to just then discover a friend, exclaimed, "Ah, Williams! how do you do? How did you get here? I was waiting at St. Nicholas for you for over an hour."

"Well, I was delayed--did not know where to look for you when I got there, and dropped in here, I hardly know how; but, old fellow, it's all as well now--isn't it?" giving Ellsworth a gentle pat on the shoulder. All this was said in such a manner that Purvis might have heard it if not too much engaged in his play; and he probably did hear it; and the two worthies went arm in arm into the card-room.

"Let me interrupt the play for a second, gentlemen, if you please," said Ellsworth, taking Williams directly up to Purvis. "Mr. Purvis, allow me to introduce to you my friend, Mr. Williams, the gentleman we were waiting so long for to-night. Lucky--isn't it, he dropped in here?"

The usual courtesies of introduction were passed, Purvis assuring Mr. Williams that he was very glad to make his acquaintance, and that the game would soon be over, when he would be glad to learn more of his "friend Ellsworth's" friend.

But who was this "Williams?" you are apt to inquire, right here. I did not know Ellsworth, but I had seen Williams before. He was elegantly attired, more so than Ellsworth, indeed, and nearly as mannerly; though, to the practised eye, there was discernible in his face a lower range of character than in Ellsworth's. He had more low cunning, and was fitter to do deeds of positive criminality. He belonged to the higher class of pickpockets, and I had known him under the name of "Billy Seaver." I saw that the two were well met to work together.

Purvis and his party's game ending, Williams proposed to take a hand; and a party being made up, Purvis continued to play, not neglecting to take wine occasionally. On one occasion Williams, accompanying him to the sideboard, I noticed the former turn suddenly about, as he said, "Mr. Purvis, join me in claret this time,--an unfashionable drink, to be sure" (with a most graceful smile). "I see that you take sherry generally," and having suited the action to the word, had poured out a glass, which he handed to Purvis, who took and drank it. I had no doubt that Williams had skilfully "drugged" that dram; and my interest began to deepen now that my observations would have to continue for several hours. At length I united in a game with several new in-comers, and posted myself at the table where I could easily watch Purvis and his friends. He played on well for a while, but by and by I saw he began to grow a little stupid. At this time Williams, who was a good talker, entered upon the recital of many curious tales ("good stories," as they are called among his class, but which were not so "good" as to bear repeating here), and tried to keep up Purvis's waning spirits with laughter and jokes. And so Purvis was kept at the board, while the drug was constantly doing its sure and secret work. Purvis lost considerably, and occasionally reverted to his wallet for supplies.

An hour or so went on, when Ellsworth, who took no practical interest in the game, said to Williams, "Isn't it about time for honest people to be a-bed? Hadn't we better go?"

"Just as you like; and I presume Mr. Purvis would like to go to his hotel. I declare," said he, turning to the clock on the mantel, "it _is_ later than I thought."

Presently the three sallied out. With some difficulty was it that Purvis moved. They reached the sidewalk, and Ellsworth said, "Mr. Williams, let's go up to the St. Nicholas with Mr. Purvis," taking Purvis by the arm in a quiet way; and they started. The distance was so short, that on reaching the walk from the stairs, where I overheard the proposition, I thought I would not follow too speedily. They had not gone on their way over a minute at most, when an alarm of fire on the corner of Howard and Broadway arrested my attention, as I thought but for a minute or so,--but time flies on such occasions, and it might have been five minutes,--when, turning to look after my men, I could not see them, but rushed on to the hotel. Not finding them there, I sought the clerk, to learn if Purvis had taken his key and gone to his room. He had seen nothing of Purvis at all, "since early in the evening," he said.

Where could the scoundrels have taken him? O, they must have dropped into one of the coaches standing at all hours of night near the hotel; that was my solution of the matter, and I knew it would be folly to attempt to follow them farther; and I had nothing to do but to withdraw to my rooms and go to bed, and await the issue--clew to which I felt sure to get next day.

I took the night clerk into my confidence sufficiently to tell him that I suspected Purvis would be victimized, lose his money, and perhaps his life; but conjured him to keep still, if he should chance to return before morning; watch those who might come with him, and be sure to get the number of the coach and name of the driver, if he should be brought back in a carriage, and then find out if and how he had been "played with," and to send me word: all of which he promised to do, entering with spirit into the enterprise. I went home, feeling sure that the clerk would give me an intelligent report if anything wrong happened.

Next morning, about seven o'clock, I was awakened at my rooms by the clerk, who told me that, an hour before, Purvis had been pitched into the entrance way of the hotel, in a state of stupidity so great that, after a half hour's attempt to arouse him, they had sent for a doctor; that instantly on hearing the noise of his advent, he had rushed to the door, only to see a tall man running down street, while a coach, at some distance off, was driving rapidly up; but whether the coach had any connection with the matter he thought was doubtful. But he had examined Purvis's clothes, which were much stained and soiled, and found a cut in the right side, over his wallet pocket, but "not large enough to let out much of a purse," he said. As the wallet was large, I fancied that this cut had been made, possibly, as they left the gaming-rooms, and not succeeding with that, had taken Purvis away to "finish" him,--which was doubtless the case.

I dressed myself rapidly as possible, and hurried to the hotel. Purvis had been carried to his room; and a doctor and his student, a tall, good-looking, sympathetic fellow, were attending him. The doctor administered some medicines as well as he could, and then performed some quite vigorous manipulations of Purvis's body. The student said that he was a native of Louisville, and knew Purvis's family very well, and that he'd give five hundred dollars himself for the detection of the scamps who had ill treated Purvis. He warmed up to great height on the occasion, in true Southern style, generous and ardent. I took a great fancy to him, and when the doctor left urged the student to remain, which he gladly did. We watched by Purvis's side for an hour and a half before he sufficiently recovered to recognize his Louisville friend, and to answer me as to how much he had lost,--which was what I most desired to know. Where he had been he had no memory of. All was a blank to him; but he knew that the evening before he had a thousand and sixty dollars with him--a thousand in his wallet, in the side coat pocket, and the sixty in various pockets. He had paid a bill a day before for parties in Louisville, and had so much left, only about half of which belonged to him, the remainder belonged to the Louisville parties; "which makes the matter a heap worse," as he said.

When I had learned so much, I set about laying my plans, within myself, for catching Ellsworth and Williams. I had no doubt that they were still in the city, so secret had been their operations, as they probably supposed; and thinking I might need help, took into my counsels, as far as I thought best, my young friend, the stalwart student. He was all on fire for the work, if we should chance to come across the enemy; and we started forth, he to arm himself at his rooms, I to prepare myself, and we to "rendezvous" at the St. Nicholas in an hour.

Coming together, I bethought me that perhaps Purvis's wallet might have some private mark by which it might be identified; and we went up to his room to inquire, and learned that the wallet was the gift of his brother, and bore, under the principal clasp, in faded gilding, the letters, "C. H. P., L'ville." The letters were quite obscure now, he said. And we started on our search. I fancied I could readily find Williams's lodgings, and that he would likely be there, in a state of more or less sleepiness, and his compeer Ellsworth with him. But I had counted without my host that day; and though we were constantly going from point to point, in our investigations, nothing had we learned when nightfall came, and we were very weary. Passing up Roosevelt Street, having had occasion to go down to the Williamsburg Ferry, a tall man brushed rapidly by us, whom I at once discovered to be Williams, who suddenly dropped into a little filthy cellar oyster saloon, and we followed. Williams had taken a seat at the remote corner of the dirty room, and called for a stew. He looked haggard, as if he had, not long ago, been on a tremendous spree. We called for oysters roasted in shell, as likely to be the most cleanly in that dirty crib.

Williams was quite "nervous," and spilled the broth over himself considerably, and I half conjectured that he, too, had been drugged. I knew he must have taken the wallet, and that perhaps he had it about him then; but I had no warrant to arrest him on the spot, but must follow him farther. He arose, having finished his meal, and started straight for the door, and opening it, was going out, when the dirty Irish woman who kept the shop exclaimed, "Look here, mistur, is that the way gintlemens trates ladies? Don't yer pay for yer vittals when yer takes 'em?"

Williams, who hardly knew what he was about, had not, I presume, intended to "beat" the woman (to use the slang phrase for cheat), but he was maddened by the woman's gross manner, and turned upon her with an oath.

"Be jabers," screamed the woman! "Gintlemen," turning to us, "will yees see a poor honest woman, so there!" (the tears coming into her eyes) "chated by the likes o' that dirthy blaggard? Ketch him, and hould him!" (flourishing a big spoon, like a sword, in air).

My impulsive student friend needed no more encouragement, and quickly catching Williams in his brawny arms, exclaimed, "Here, you scamp! pay this woman before you go, or you'll stay here all night," pulling him at the same time up to the little dirty counter, behind which the woman stood. Half drunk, Williams, finding himself in a strong man's grasp, was instantly quiet, and began fumbling for his money. In his search he pulled out a silk sash--as it proved, a stolen one at that--from his inner side coat pocket, when out tumbled a plethoric wallet with it.

"Be jabers, that's a fat one, indade!" said the woman: "the gintleman has money enough to buy out old Astor and all his kin."

Williams, more intoxicated than I thought at first, seemed to take no heed of this, and after he had managed to fish out of his pocket money enough to pay the old woman, I took up the wallet, and said, "Here, don't leave this; you'll want it."

He looked in amazement, as he started towards me, as he saw me deliberately opening the clasp. There were the self-same initials Purvis had told us of. "I will keep this, Mr. Williams," said I; "this is what I am after.--Old woman, this man is a pickpocket.--Bolt the door!" I exclaimed to my student friend, which he did instantly. "Take charge of Williams while I examine the wallet; and you, old woman, keep quiet; and, Williams, don't _you_ dare to make the least noise, or we'll finish you here."

I made rapid search, and found in the wallet nine hundred and thirty dollars (some of it Kentucky money), a lady's elegant gold enamelled watch, and a chain which could not have cost less than two hundred dollars, but which had been cut in some of the links--evidently a recent prize of Williams. He would never tell where that watch came from; and I advertised "A lady's watch, taken from a pickpocket. The owner can have the same by identifying it. Call at No. -- Broadway," for several days, in the papers. But no one ever came to claim it, and I gave it to a lady, who still wears it, subject to the owner's reclamation at any time.

Williams saw that it was all over with him, but he protested that he did not abstract the wallet; that the whole "job" was Ellsworth's; and I was willing to believe this in part, for Ellsworth was the prime roper-in. More anxious to catch Ellsworth than to punish Williams, I agreed that if he would tell me the whole story truly, and where Ellsworth could be found, I would, on finding the latter, let him, Williams, off.

He told me the story in detail. They had taken Purvis, that night, over to a place in Williamsburg, occupied by Ellsworth, and his "family," as he pretended. Purvis was so stupid when they arrived there that the coachman had to assist them to bear him into the house. Of course the process of robbery was easy after that. But not having a good place to keep Purvis, and that matter being dangerous, too, they had hired another coach near morning, and brought him over to New York, Williams coming alone with him. He would not tell me the coachman's name,--the one of the night before,--but said he had "bled" them to the tune of fifty dollars for his services.

He had been over to Williamsburg, and was on his way back, taking with him the money, which he was to divide the next day, at a certain hour, in a place he named in the Bowery, with Ellsworth, who would be there.

I did not credit his story, to be sure; but still I was there duly, and found Williams, who pretended surprise as he came in with an officer (into whose keeping I had given him,--having called him before we left the shop,--on a charge of forgery, not telling him I knew the real state of the case), at not finding Ellsworth up to his appointment. But my story is running into too much detail. Suffice it that we got back to the hotel as speedily as we could, and a more delighted man than was Mr. Purvis, on the recovery of so much of his money, can hardly be imagined. He gave the watch, of course, into my keeping, and in spite of all my protestations, compelled me to receive a much larger sum than would have amply satisfied me.

I pursued Ellsworth somewhat afterwards, visiting his "family" in Williamsburg, but I could not get track of him for a long while, when he turned up in another city, and I chanced to make him available in the detection of sundry other rogues. But that story is _sui generis_, and I must not mar it by a recital of a part here.

As for the brave medical student (whose name I have purposely withheld), he became a fast friend of mine, and afterwards we had several adventures together, some of which I purpose to relate, should I at some other time feel more in the spirit to do so.

Enough to know now, that he is, for his years, an eminent physician, with a large practice, in a district in the South, and married to a most beautiful woman, whose acquaintance he made while once playing the amateur detective. In some of these papers, perhaps, his name, if he permits, will be disclosed. Had he given himself to the business, I conceive that he could not have had a successful rival, as a detective, in the world. The same knowledge of human nature which the detective needs, cannot but serve the physician to great advantage.

Mr. Purvis said that if he had wholly lost the thousand dollars, the lesson he had learned would have been cheaply bought.

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THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING.

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THE ANTIQUITY OF THAT SHEEP'S SKIN AND ITS PIOUS USEFULNESS--A
LARGE LOSS OF SILKS, SATINS, LACES, AND OTHER GOODS--A
CONSULTATION--A LONG STUDY--THE VARIOUS CHARACTERS OF SEVERAL
CLERKS, WHAT THEY DID, AND HOW THEY KILLED "SPARE
TIME"--INFLUENCE OF THE CITY ON MORALS--NEW YORK CENTRAL
PARK--A MOST WONDERFUL SERIES OF THEFTS--THE MATTER
INEXPLICABLE AT FIRST, GROWS MORE SUBTLE--A GLEAM OF LIGHT AT
LAST--A BRIGHT ITALIAN BOY PLAYS A PART--A LADY FOLLOWED--MORE
LIGHT--AN EXTEMPORIZED SERVANT OF THE CROTON WATER BOARD GETS
INSIDE A CERTAIN HOUSE--SARAH CROGAN AND I--HOW A HOUSE IN
NINETEENTH STREET DELIVERED UP ITS TREASURES--"WILLIAM BRUCE,"
ALIAS CHARLES PHILLIPS--A VERY STRANGE DENOUEMENT--A MEEK MAN
TRANSFORMED; HIS RAGE--A DELIVERY UP, WITH ACCOMPANYING
JEWELS--A "WIDOW" NOT A WIDOW REMOVES--WHAT SARAH CROGAN
THOUGHT.

It is an astonishing thing to a detective, and ought to be to every person of sense, it seems to me, that after the experiences of ages "the-wolf-in-sheep's-clothing" still keeps on deluding people. Everybody ought by this time to know the animal, and everybody does, in a sense; but everybody has heard of him, and seen him somewhere along the path of life, and either been bitten by him, or sorely frightened, or something of the sort. Yet forever he is playing his wiles with success with everybody; and his sheep skin is the same one he has used ever since historic time began, and perhaps long before that. But I did not take my pen to descant upon the blunders and stupidities of my fellow-mortals, or to adorn this page with a lecture on morals and hypocrisies, but to tell a tale in which, perchance, a "moral" will be better "painted" by the facts it discloses than by my discursive pen.

I was called upon one day by the confidential clerk of a large mercantile house in this city, and informed by him that he had been sent by one of the partners of the house,--the other partners being abroad, one in Europe, and one in the South,--in regard to the matter of extensive robberies from their store; and it had been thought best that I should be made acquainted with the chief facts before visiting the house--as they supposed, of course, he said, I should wish to. I told him (and here, for sake of brevity, let me give him a name, which is correct only in the initial letters--Charles Phillips)--I told Mr. Phillips that his policy was quite right, and that I would listen then and there to his story. He went on to recount that, probably for a long while, the house had been robbed of various kinds of goods, but that of late, particularly, they had been greatly annoyed by missing large quantities of the highest priced goods: their best silks, satins, laces, etc., which, being costly goods, amounted, as nearly as they could calculate,--in one month's loss, too,--to some eighteen hundred dollars; "and of course," said he, "the loss may be more, for perhaps we do not know all we have lost." He told me of plans which he and the partner at home had devised to find out the thief or thieves, and the watch that had been set, all to no avail. He had a different opinion about it, he said, from the partner, who thought some of the clerks must be the guilty parties; and it did seem so, sometimes, he said, for the store was well watched nights by a trusty watchman, whom he himself had watched as well, and felt confident that he could have no confederates; and, besides, the things taken were not usually in reach of customers--only the clerks could get at them. So he thought his employer excusable, perfectly, for his suspicion that some of the clerks must be the thief. Yet for his part he could not believe it, inasmuch as he had known all the clerks so long,--five years, a majority of them, and the rest of them, save three, who had been but from two to six months in the house, for from one year up to three and four; and he thought he knew all about them, and could not allow himself to suspect any one of them. But, nevertheless, his employer, who could not in his own mind fasten suspicion upon any specific person, had fully made up his mind that some of the clerks were guilty, and they were now going to wake up the matter, if possible, and "bring things to a focus," as he expressed it.

I listened to what Mr. Phillips had to say, and inquired how many clerks there were in the establishment, when he informed me that, aside from himself, there were thirty-seven.

"Thirty-seven?" said I; "and you are not able to say that any one of these is more innocent or less guilty than another, eh?"

"No."

"Well, then, we've a job on hand which may last for a good while, and require not only time, but patience, and a good deal of money to work out; for we might hit on the thief the first thing, but we might not be able to identify him till we had been through with all the rest, and satisfied ourselves of their innocence, you see, and it may cost your house more than it would to suffer the losses, and let accident, perhaps, hereafter disclose the guilty party."

"I have talked this very point over with Mr. Redding," (the partner), said he, "and he says the firm must go to any necessary cost to find the thief, and put a stop to peculations; that the house cannot, in fact, long do business at this rate of loss, and he's made up his mind to go into the matter thoroughly, and when he gets _his_ head set, there's no moving him. The house must go ahead in this business, and let you have your way about it."

I learned from Mr. Phillips that many of the goods taken were of a peculiar kind, but after all, not to be readily identified, if the private marks of the house were removed; "and any thief," said he, "shrewd enough to steal from our store, at the rate the thefts have been going on for the last few weeks, is wise enough, I dare say, to leave nothing of a story-telling nature on the goods. He's probably removed our private marks at his earliest convenience."

After our conference was over, and I had agreed to call at the store the next day, in the capacity of a wholesale customer "from Buffalo," and Mr. Phillips was gone, I set myself to work at some theory in the case, and found myself quite baffled at every point. I had not facts enough yet in my possession to form an opinion; and as I prided myself in those days, more than I do now, on my unerring skill in detecting a thief by his countenance, I resolved to theorize no more till I had gone through the house, and scrutinized each clerk's face. But that night I talked the matter over with certain of my brother detectives, for it was evident that there was work enough to be done, if we wished to save time, for several of them. Each of my men thought the matter could be easily solved. Some of the clerks were, of course, the thieves, and they only needed to be "spotted" for a few nights at once, and sure as fate the guilty one would be brought to light 'twas agreed; but it didn't prove so easy a job, after all.

The next day I called upon Mr. Redding, it having been understood between me and Mr. Phillips that he was not to recognize me before the clerks, until after I might have been presented to him by Mr. Redding, and then only cursorily. I handed Mr. Redding a note which I had prepared, and as he did not know me personally, and was a little taken aback at what I said in the note, I giving him sundry orders and directions therein, his strangership to me was quite evident to the clerks who chanced to be about when we met. Mr. Redding showed me all the distinction that I required, and himself showed me through the establishment. It was a long list of goods, indeed, that which I prized, in every department; and we took our time, in order that I might have the amplest opportunity to study each clerk's face, which I did to my satisfaction, but to no certainty as to which one if any was the thief. I thought that either my usual sagacity had fled me, or else that the clerks were a singularly honest set of young men, and withal exceedingly well chosen and clever.

I was at times tempted to suspect one or two of them; but I could not tell why, and came to the conclusion at last that this temptation resulted rather from my anxiety to "spot" some one, than from good judgment; and I concluded that part of the business without having arrived at any conclusion whatever as to the guilty parties. After this Mr. Redding called his chief confidential clerk, Mr. Phillips, into the counting-room, and we quietly talked over the matter. At Mr. Redding's request, Mr. Phillips produced such a list as they had been able to make of the goods lost, which amounted in all to quite an astonishing sum; but of these things they could inform me of nothing which was very peculiar in its nature--nothing the like of which other stores had not. But I finally requested to see some of the richest silks, such as those they had lost, and was taken by Mr. Redding to see them. I have a pretty accurate eye for forms and colors, and I paid special attention to a piece of silk, the like of which I had never seen, and the cost of which was more than that of any other piece in the store. It was a heavy silk--would stand alone, and had in it "ribs," after the fashion somewhat of a twisted column, the pattern of which was perhaps borrowed from a column in the court of some old convent, such as I had often seen in Italy, where for a year I was occupied in that country ferreting out some scamps who had fled there from Philadelphia, and who were badly wanted to settle sundry accounts. With the association of the "ribs" and the column, I was not likely to forget that piece of silk. But other houses had the like, and I might not be able to identify the piece as coming from Mr. Redding's store, if I should chance to come across it in some retail store, at the pawnbroker's, or anywhere else. Yet it might prove a clew, and I put my faith in it; with what result, will be seen further on, for I cannot mar my narrative by introducing it here.

It was quite evident to me that the thief must be some one or more of the clerks; and I could not, on inquiry into the habits of the clerks, so far as Mr. Redding understood them, or in any way, fix upon any one of the clerks as more likely than another to be the thief. These young men had been well selected; were smart fellows, each in his way. Indeed, Mr. Redding thought that, on the whole, his house had the best set of clerks of all the houses in the city, and although he was convinced that some one or more of them (and he as well as I inclined to the notion that there must be two at least) were guilty, yet he said he would gladly give a thousand dollars if the guilt could be fastened upon somebody without the store; for the house had always treated its clerks as if they were the partners' own children in many respects, and given the clerks rather better wages than they could get anywhere else, and some unusual privileges. They had nearly all been long with the house, and I thought that Mr. Redding seemed to suffer as much from the fear that some of the clerks would prove to be the guilty party, as from the loss of the goods themselves. In fact, he confessed that he felt "chicken-hearted" about the matter, as he expressed it; but his partners' interests as well as his own must be looked to, and so he was resolute.

I returned to my office, and set about immediate preparations on the work. I was going at it that night, and I saw that there was no other way than to take matters coolly, and work systematically. I sent for some of my men, having apprised Mr. Redding that it would "cost something" to work up the case, and that to do it within any conscionable time I must set several men at work. He had given me quite a wide range for expenses, saying that it would not do to be guilty of any laches in the business for want of means; because, at the rate they were losing property, with all their eyes open at that, they would soon have to give up business.

I set my men to keeping their eyes on certain of the clerks whose places of residence and names Mr. Redding had given me. He had not procured the streets and numbers of all of them, but was to do so next day. The clerks designated were carefully watched and followed, to find out how and where they spent their nights, for it was my conjecture, that whoever stole the goods was under the influence of some demon passion; that he either gambled, and was deeply in debt, and stole the goods and sold them, or that some wily woman had him in her power, or some fiend of a man was driving him on in crime; and it was necessary first to find out all about where these young men spent their time out of the store.

I took my own place in the work, and having been so much about the store that day, it was necessary that I disguise myself, as I did; and I took my station on Broadway, near the store, and waited for the young men to sally forth, directing my men to the boarding-places of some of the clerks, with as accurate descriptions of them as I could give.