Chapter IV: Part 4

It is strange what a difference there will sometimes be in reports. About two hours after De Forest made his report, Green came in and reported that according to orders he had "shadowed" De Forest and Mrs. Maroney when they drove into the city.

De Forest had left Mrs. Maroney at Mitchell's and driven off while he remained and kept his eye upon her. She left Mitchell's, walked over to the Washington House and went into a room where she remained for over an hour and a half. She left the hotel with Mr. Hastenbrook, who politely bade her good-bye at the corner of Eighth street, while she went down to Mitchell's and met De Forest, poor De Forest! but, "where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." After dinner De Forest ordered up his horses, and the happy pair, rendered extremely sentimental by the mellowing influence of the wine, started on their homeward journey. They stopped at a wayside inn a few miles out of the city, had a mint julep, and then proceeded on their way home, both very happy, and De Forest decidedly _spooney_.

Rivers had an easy time of it at Jenkintown. He got well in with Josh. Cox and his friends Horton and Barclay. In fact any one with a little money to spend on drinks could easily form their acquaintance. He became so thick with Josh. that Josh. would gladly have taken him into his house as a boarder had it not been for the fact that Mrs. Maroney and her daughter were boarding with him and had taken up all the spare room.

Rivers did not become acquainted with Mrs. Maroney, as she was proud and arrogant, and would disdain to form the acquaintance of any low "white trash" like him. Whenever Mrs. Maroney went to Philadelphia he followed her and excused his frequent absences to Josh. by stating that he went up to get his arm dressed. That arm was indeed a very sore one, and his physician must have made a small fortune out of him alone. When Rivers found that Mrs. Maroney was going into town with her escort, he would go in on the train and get to the outskirts of the city in time to meet them as they drove in. She was generally accompanied by De Forest, who had become her constant attendant. After they reached the city they had to drive slowly, and so he could follow them with ease. De Forest had been ordered to always drive to Mitchell's when he came in with Mrs. Maroney, and Green was there ready to take charge of her when they arrived, relieving Rivers, who would return by the evening train to Jenkintown.

Mrs. Maroney had a great desire to become acquainted with Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson. Madam Imbert appeared very sad, and it was currently reported that she had brought the lively Miss Johnson with her to console her and keep her in good spirits. The desired introduction was brought about by an accident. Mrs. Maroney was taking her accustomed stroll through the pleasure grounds, accompanied by De Forest and Flora. Flora, as usual, full of fun, was running far ahead of her, when she saw two ladies coming down a cross-path. As she turned her head to look at them, still running at full speed, she caught her foot in the grass borders of the walk and was thrown violently to the gravel pavement. The ladies, who proved to be Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson, rushed to her, and the Madam picked her up. Flora had scratched her hands badly, and Madam Imbert had partially bound them up before her mother and De Forest arrived. This led to an introduction, and Mrs. Maroney was not slow in following it up.

The next day Madam Imbert received a call from Mrs. Maroney, who wished to more fully return her thanks for her kindness to her daughter. The acquaintance progressed slowly, Mrs. Maroney making all the advances. There was something about Madam Imbert that seemed to draw one toward her. Mrs. Maroney felt that the Madam was a better woman than she, and that it did her good to pass an hour in her company. As she became more familiar with her, she discovered that Madam Imbert received many letters through the post, and often found her crying over them. The Madam would put them hurriedly to one side, and greet her with a forced smile which showed the efforts she made to hide her grief. Mrs. Maroney deeply sympathized with her, as she compared her own gay and happy life, free from care, to Madam Imbert's, from which every ray of sunshine seemed to have been blotted out.

On one of the trips which Mrs. Maroney made to Philadelphia with De Forest, Rivers, who had headed them off, as usual, at the outskirts of the town, and was following them in, was observed by De Forest. De Forest had seen the man with the sore arm just before they left Jenkintown, and he now noticed him following them from block to block. He had no idea that the man could be following Mrs. Maroney, and supposed he must be following him. The idea flashed into his mind that it must be some inquisitive boor, who was following him merely out of prurient curiosity to see how he conducted himself with Mrs. Maroney. He did not mention the matter to her, but as he saw the man still following him his anger overflowed, and he determined that when he left Mrs. Maroney at Mitchell's, he would find out what the fellow wanted with him. When he arrived at Mitchell's Mrs. Maroney went in, and he drove to the stables with the horses. Rivers met Green here, and turning Mrs. Maroney over to him, came to the office of the Adams Express and reported to Bangs.

Bangs gave him his instructions and he went out of the office by the rear entrance. He saw De Forest in the alley, but as he had nothing to do with him, let him go. He went down Chestnut street, turned into Third, where the cars start from, and, as he had a few hours to spare, determined to see some of his old friends. He had been loafing around about an hour when one of the detectives of the city force stepped up to him, and, tapping him on the shoulder, said: "You are my prisoner."

"What have I done to deserve arrest?" demanded Rivers, completely dumbfounded.

"Never you mind that! you're my prisoner, and if you don't come along quietly, you'll pay for it!" was all the consolation he got from the detective.

"But I haven't done anything," pleaded Rivers.

"There, just shut up, now! I don't want any of your talk. I know my business, and you're my prisoner; so just you come along."

Rivers, finding resistance useless, went with him. At the same time he saw De Forest looking on, and seeming to rather enjoy his predicament. As the detective was taking him up Chestnut street toward his headquarters, they passed the Adams Express Office. Bangs happened to step out at this moment, and was much amazed to see Rivers under arrest. They said nothing, but Rivers looked steadily at Bangs, and Bangs at him. Without a moment's reflection, Bangs rushed off to report the arrest of Rivers to me. I was holding a consultation with Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson, at the Merchants' Hotel. Everything was working well, and I felt particularly happy, when Bangs rushed in and dispelled my happiness by stating that Rivers had been arrested. At the news, my heart fairly jumped into my mouth. I had felt success almost within my grasp, and now my plans had fallen through entirely.

The thought at once flashed through my mind that Hastenbrook was at the bottom of the trouble. He must be a friend of Maroney's in disguise. I left Madam Imbert and the rest of the party at the Merchants' and proceeded to the Adams Express Office, where I met the Vice-President. I informed him of Rivers's arrest, and my fears that Maroney had checkmated me. The Vice-President said that he thought he could entirely remove my fears; that De Forest had come in from Jenkintown with Mrs. Maroney, and had reported to him. He stated that he had fixed a fellow nicely. A fellow had been loafing around Jenkintown for three or four weeks. De Forest had observed him just before starting for the city, and when he reached the suburbs discovered him dogging his movements wherever he went. He drove to Mitchell's, and came over to report, and the impudent fellow still kept on his track. He thereupon went to the city detective's headquarters. The employés of the Adams Express were well known, so that he had no difficulty in getting a detective, and, walking out with him, he pointed out the man, and said he would like to have him arrested, as he had been following him all the morning. The detective kept watch of the man for over an hour, and then, finding that he continued to loaf around, arrested him on the charge of vagrancy and took him to the office, where he had him locked up until he could prefer charges against him.

As may be easily imagined, I felt greatly relieved when I heard this. The ridiculousness of the whole transaction crossed my mind, and as the Vice-President equally appreciated the joke with me, it was some time before we could control our risibles sufficiently to make arrangements for the release of Rivers. I asked the Vice-President if he knew some lawyer whom he could get to volunteer his services in behalf of Rivers. He suggested one, and soon afterward a lawyer called at the detective's office and demanded the charge on which Rivers was held. He found that it was only a nominal one, and effected his release without any one's being the wiser as to his business.

When De Forest returned to Jenkintown that evening, he was greatly surprised to find Rivers there, as large as life, and drinking with his friend Cox as if nothing had happened. De Forest could not tell how he got out, but supposed he must have been let off on paying a fine; all he knew was that the dirty loafer had completely spoiled his pleasure.

We will now leave Jenkintown for a time, and return to Montgomery.

_CHAPTER XIV._

Maroney passed the time very pleasantly. Mr. Floyd, of the Exchange, was on friendly terms with him, notwithstanding the little difficulty they had had in regard to Mrs. Maroney. He had no business to attend to and passed a good deal of time in the office of the hotel, talking with Porter and furnishing him with an abundant supply of good cigars.

Porter was a thoroughly good fellow, and had an inexhaustible fund of stories and anecdotes, some of them rather "smutty," but they were just the sort that suited Maroney, so that they had become the thickest of friends. Sometimes Maroney would take a hand in a social game of euchre at Patterson's, at other times he would take Porter or May out for a drive behind "Yankee Mary," and as they drove along expatiate on her many good qualities.

He seldom went into the express office, as, although he knew the employés well, he felt that when he called they kept a sharp lookout on his movements, and he did not appreciate such courtesy. He would occasionally go into the express car to see the messenger, and it was noticed that he always looked at the money pouch, though at the time nothing special was thought of it.

He seemed never to tire of relating the incidents of his journey, and would raise a hearty laugh by the manner in which he would describe his adventures at Natchez, on the hill, or of his visit to the amphitheatre of his friends, Spaulding & Rogers, in New Orleans. He was, to all appearances, the happiest man in town. He often talked over with Porter, his plans for the future, saying that, after his trial, he intended to go into the livery stable business, and wanted Porter to become his clerk. There was very little talk about the robbery in Montgomery, and when any one would mention it to Maroney, he would say, "You will see how it will end by-and-by," and always intimated that he would sue the company for heavy damages after his vindication by trial. Very little was said about Mrs. Maroney. She had few friends, indeed, yet these few seemed to have warm feelings towards her; most of the ladies seemed pleased that she had gone, leaving Maroney still with them.

Maroney passed a good deal of time in his lawyer's office and seemed to be making elaborate preparations for his trial. He would often walk out on the plank road towards the plantations, and Porter, by great exertions, found that he was attracted by a lovely girl who lived some three miles from the city. He never came into town with her; it would have been considered improper for her to receive the attentions of a married man, and a scandal would have been the inevitable result. There appeared to be nothing wrong between them, and Porter became convinced that it was a genuine love affair. The girl must have known she was doing wrong in permitting attentions from a married man; but Maroney was most enticing when he wished to be, and in this case loved the girl with what he thought a pure love, and easily overcame any scruple she might have in this regard. He was very friendly with Gus McGibony, the Montgomery detective, and was always willing to do him a favor.

McGibony being the only _known_ detective at Montgomery, was considered a big man in his way. Maroney always treated him as such, played cards with him and called him up to take a drink when he treated. Gus always spoke in the highest terms of Maroney, and had evidently taken sides in the case, for, when he was asked his opinion in regard to the robbery, he would say that Maroney was bound to win. In this opinion he was supported by the whole community.

Porter would sometimes talk over the case with Watts, Judd & Jackson, the legal advisers of the company. They were firmly of the opinion that Maroney had committed the robbery, yet still they must say that there was no proof by which he could be convicted when the case was brought for trial.

Roch was having an easy time of it, for as long as Maroney remained in Montgomery he had nothing to do but smoke his pipe and drink lager. He was taking a good rest after his arduous labors "shadowing" Maroney on his lengthy tour. At least the duties would have been arduous to any one but Roch, who, however, rather enjoyed them, and longed to prepare for another chase.

I knew that something decisive must soon be done, as the time set for Maroney's trial was rapidly approaching. We--the Adams Express and I--must move something.

Maroney was evidently preparing for his defense, and all was resting quietly. As the reader well knows I had a sharp watch set on the operations at Jenkintown and on all that occurred in Montgomery.

On the first of May, Maroney announced his intention of going North on a visit. He was with Porter at Patterson's at the time and seemed to have suddenly formed the resolution. He said he had consulted with his counsel and they had informed him that he might as well go if he wished, as there was nothing to detain him. He desired to see his wife and a few friends, and so had determined to make a short visit to the North. His old trunk, up in the garret of the hotel, amongst the unclaimed baggage, was never looked at.

Every one knew it was Maroney's, and even the colored porter, who sometimes went up into the garret with Porter, to look up some article that had been sent for, would say: "Dat's Massa 'Roney's trunk."

The day before Maroney started for the North he packed up everything he needed for his journey in his large trunk, and then said to Porter, who was assisting him: "Let's go up to my old trunk, I still have some cigars in it, and I think it would be well to get some of them to smoke on my journey."

Porter sent for Tom, and they all three went into the garret. Tom unbound the trunk; Maroney took out some cigars and articles of wearing apparel, and, having it tied up again, returned to his room. No further notice was taken of the trunk by any one.

To place me on my guard, Porter immediately telegraphed me, in cipher, of this intended move. The dispatch reached me in Chicago, and was indeed news to me. What he intended to do in the North I could not tell. I thought myself nearly blind in trying to solve the reasons of his movement, and in arranging plans for his reception in the North. What could we do? I was not a lawyer, but understood a good deal of the law, and felt that now was the time to work something in our favor. I soon made up my mind what course to pursue, and started the next day for Philadelphia, to lay my plans before the Vice-President personally; telegraphing Porter to get Roch ready to shadow Maroney. He was to retain his Dutch disguise, as it had done good service before, and had not been "spotted."

I arrived safely in Philadelphia, and found that I had not much preceded Maroney.

On the second of May, Maroney, having everything in readiness for his departure, went to the depot, accompanied by a great many friends, and took the train for the North. Roch had reached the depot before him, and had bought a through second-class ticket to Philadelphia, _via_ Baltimore. Nothing of any consequence took place until they reached Baltimore. Maroney came through the cars only twice, seeming to be confident that he was not followed. He took an occasional walk to stretch his legs, but kept quietly to himself the whole of the journey.

At Baltimore Roch was met by Bangs and Green, who relieved him from duty when they got the "spot" on Maroney. They found Roch pretty well exhausted, as he had not slept on the journey, and had been obliged to sit in a very cramped position.

On getting into Philadelphia, Maroney went to the Washington House, while Roch went to the Merchants' Hotel, where he immediately retired, and had a good long sleep.

At Jenkintown all went quietly. Mrs. Maroney was well loved by De Forest, well "shadowed" by Rivers and Green, and greatly benefited by the pure society of Madam Imbert. She said to Madam Imbert, a few days before the arrival of Maroney: "I am happy to state that my husband will be with me in a few days. I am _so_ delighted at the prospect of meeting him once more, as he has been separated from me a great deal. We shall have a splendid time in Philadelphia and New York; perhaps spend the summer in Jenkintown, and then go South, _via_ Cincinnati and Louisville; passing through Kentucky and Tennessee, into Alabama, and stopping at all the cities on the way."

On the fifth of May she packed up her trunks, and Flora and she were driven to the Jenkintown station. De Forest offered to take them into the city in his buggy, but the offer was declined, with thanks, and they left for Philadelphia without escort.

At Philadelphia she called a carriage, and, with Flora, was driven to the Washington House. In a short time Maroney arrived, entered his name on the register, and was shown to his wife's room, and the two after an eventful separation, were thus once more united.

Having no need of Rivers's services at Jenkintown, he was called to Philadelphia, to "shadow" the parties there. Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson of course remained.

On the sixth of May, Maroney mailed a letter, which the "shadow" discovered was directed to "William M. Carter, Locksmith, William st., N. Y." A note was taken of this, and as soon as possible Bangs left for New York, to interview Mr. Carter. He found that Carter was one of the best locksmiths in the city, and inclined to be a good fellow.

Bangs, representing the New York office of the Adams Express, gave him some jobs, making keys, etc.; and finally brought him a key to the lock of the pouch used by the company, and asked him to make two just like it.

Carter said he could make them, and after examining the key for some time, said: "But stop a little; a friend of mine, now in Philadelphia, sent me a draft of a key he wanted made, and it is almost exactly like this!" Producing the draft, he exclaimed, "it is exactly the same!" He handed it to Bangs, who found it a finely executed drawing of the pouch key, made by Maroney. Bangs paid no attention to this circumstance, but Carter said he would not make the key, as he did not know to what use it might be put. He would return the draft to his friend and say he could not make it. Bangs managed to get a copy of the draft before it was returned.

On discovering this, I saw through Maroney's plan at once; he wished to have a key made similar to the pouch key, and introduce it as evidence in his trial that others than the agents might have keys to the Company's pouches. Two days before Maroney met his wife in Philadelphia, I held a consultation with the Vice-President and Bangs in the office of the Express Co. I maintained that it was the Company's duty to arrest Maroney. They had a right to bring suit against an agent of theirs wherever found. I urged him to lay the matter before the Company's counsel in Philadelphia. If we could get him in prison here all would be well, and the expense and trouble of following him from place to place would be entirely avoided. It was our duty to keep him in jail, where I could introduce a detective, disguised as a fellow-prisoner, whose duty would be to get into his confidence and finally draw from him his secret and learn his plans for the future. I presented my ideas so clearly that the Vice President was convinced that the plan was a good one, and he at once saw St. George Tucker Campbell, the eminent lawyer, laid the whole case before him and asked his opinion. They looked the whole case over, and he admitted that my plan was a good one. He said we might be able to hold Maroney for a short time, but he really did not think we could long do so. He might be able to fight it out for three or four weeks, but by that time Maroney would be sure to effect his release. He would be so excited over his daily expectation of effecting his release that it would be impossible for me to make a proper effort to mould his mind to my purpose. He produced sufficient evidence to prove to me that it would be bad policy to try my plan in Philadelphia. This was a crushing blow, and I felt as if a load had been placed upon my breast. Mr. Campbell left me one ray of hope by stating that he was not fully posted in the laws of the State of New York, and that I might be enabled to carry out my purpose there. Leaving Bangs in charge at Philadelphia, the Vice-President and I started for New York. We had a meeting with the President and other officers of the Company, and determined to lay the matter before Clarence A. Seward, the Company's counsellor in New York. He had just been engaged by the Company, as I had been, and so far had attended only to some small matters for them. The Vice-President notified him to meet us at the Astor House, where the case was laid before him. After looking up the points of law involved, he decided that we could hold Maroney in New York. We then instructed him to get the papers in readiness, so that the moment Maroney stepped into New York he should be arrested. How happy did I now feel! All care was gone, the weight of sorrow had been lifted from my breast as if by the hand of magic: hope had taken the place of despair, and I returned to Philadelphia with renewed energy and firmness, bound to win beyond a peradventure.

I now assigned to Green the duty of shadowing Mrs. Maroney, and to Rivers the duty of shadowing Maroney. I gave them strict orders to keep separate, and to make a move only when the persons they were shadowing moved. After Maroney had washed himself and removed his travel-soiled garments, he had a long confidential talk with his wife, played with and caressed Flora, and then walked out with them on Chestnut street. They proceeded as far as Eighth, apparently amusing themselves by looking into the shop windows, and then returned and did not leave the hotel during the evening, passing the time in their rooms. At eleven they retired, thus allowing their "shadows," Green and Rivers to retire also.

_CHAPTER XV._

Saturday, the seventh of May, was a busy one for my operatives. Maroney left the hotel, followed by Rivers, walked around, visited different stores, and finally stopped at the corner of Vine and Third streets. In five or ten minutes, who should come along and meet him but Mrs. Maroney, shadowed by Green? It seemed strange to Rivers that they should have taken this roundabout way of meeting, and he could not understand the reason for it. When Mrs. Maroney came up, Maroney took her arm, and together they walked to the office of Alderman G. W. Williams. They remained in the office some fifteen minutes, and on coming out went directly to the Washington House. In a few minutes they again appeared, accompanied by Flora, and getting into a carriage were driven to the ferry, crossed over to Camden, and took the train for New York.

Rivers, who was the fastest runner, started on a keen run for the Adams Express Office and reported to me that the Maroney family were under way for New York. Bangs was in New York, so I telegraphed to him, informing him of their departure for that city. He immediately found Mr. Seward and had everything in readiness to give them a warm reception.

But what had they been doing at Alderman Williams's? It was better to find out at once. I supposed he had been executing some deed. I consulted with the Vice-President about the person most likely to procure the desired information from Alderman Williams. After due consideration, we decided that Mr. Franklin, head of the city detectives, was the best man for the purpose. Franklin had always been square and honest in all his dealings, but I determined not to put too much confidence in him. I am always suspicious of men until I know them thoroughly, or have them employed in my establishment; I therefore instructed Rivers to watch Alderman Williams, and learn all that he could.

The Vice-President sent for Franklin, and employed him to find out what had transpired at the Alderman's. Franklin was a genial man, a good talker, and devoted to his duty. He proved himself to be the best man we could have procured for our purpose. He was well acquainted with Alderman Williams, and strolled along past his office. The Alderman was seated with his feet cocked up on the window-sill, smoking a cigar, and, not having much to do, hailed Franklin as he went by, asking him to come in. Franklin accepted the invitation, and lighting a cigar which the Alderman handed him, took a seat.

The Alderman had witnessed an amusing scene, and, knowing Franklin's fondness for a good story, related it to him. Franklin thought the story a good one, laughed heartily at it, and then told one or two of his own. He finally turned to the Alderman, and said; "I say, Williams, this is rather dry work. What do you say to going down to the restaurant with me, and having some oysters and a bottle of champagne to wash them down?"

Williams, like most Aldermen, was fond of the good things of this earth, and accepted the proposition without waiting for a second asking. He locked up his office, and they went down to the restaurant. Franklin gave his orders, and the delicious bivalves were soon smoking before them. He called for champagne, and under its exhilarating influence grew wittier and wittier, and kept the Alderman in such roars of laughter that he could scarcely swallow his oysters. At length Franklin told a story of a man by the name of Maroney, who had come to the city, and getting into rather questionable company, had been fleeced of quite a large amount of money. He had sought Franklin's aid in ferreting out the thieves, but finding it would be necessary to disclose his name and the circumstances in which he was robbed, and that the facts would find their way into the daily papers, he concluded to bear the loss and say no more about it.

As he finished this little story the Alderman laughed heartily, and remarked: "I'll bet five dollars it is the same man."

"Why, what do you mean?" inquired Franklin.

"Well, a man named Nathan Maroney came to my office yesterday with a wealthy widow, Mrs. Irvin, and I married them. I got a good big fee, too, and I'll bet five dollars he is the same man that called on you. Of course he would not want it known that he frequented such places just as he was going to be married, and so did not prosecute. Don't you see?"

They both laughed heartily, and Franklin, having learned all he wanted to, soon took his departure. He reported to the Vice-President that Maroney had been married the day before, and the Vice-President immediately communicated the news to me.

I hurriedly thought the matter over. I had all the points on Mrs. Maroney that I wanted. I could see that there was some cogent reason for Maroney's marrying Mrs. Irvin. He wanted to place her where she would tell no stories. There were only two ways to do this. Maroney, the thief, had either to murder his mistress, or to make her his wife. I could see plainly through the whole transaction. Maroney, after committing the robbery, had, in exact accordance with my theory, found that he needed some one in whom he could confide, and with whom he could ease his overburdened mind by disclosing the facts of the robbery. Who could be a safer person than his mistress? Her interests were identical with his; he had gained her the entrée to good society; had taken her from a house of infamy, where she was shunned and scorned, and by allowing her the use of his name, had placed her in a position to _demand_ respect.

In all things she seemed devoted to his interests, and so far as he knew, her conduct while with him had been beyond reproach. What could be more natural than his selecting her and pouring into her ear the details of his crime?

How well it must have made him feel to find in her not a stern moralist who would turn from him with scorn and point to the heinousness of his crime, but a sweet enthusiast, with ideas moulded to suit his, who would encourage and renew his feelings of ultimate success and almost rob crime of its horrors!

What a happy moment it must have been to her to hear Maroney give vent to his pent-up feelings! How she must have looked forward with delight to the coming time when Maroney, rich with his ill-gotten spoils, should place her in a position _far_ above what she had ever anticipated reaching! How her eyes must have flashed as she thought how she could then return with redoubled force the scorn that had been shown to her! She had only one more step to take and then her life of shame would be completely covered up: Maroney _must_ marry her!!

She now had him in her power; she would be true to him if he would be to her; but if he _refused_ her request to make her an honest woman in the eyes of the world, woe be to him!!

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

She did not at once force the matter on Maroney, but waited until she reached the North, and then gradually unfolded to him the necessity of his marrying her. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow, but unless he chose to add murder to his other crimes, was his only means of safety.

The necessity was rendered all the more distasteful by the fact that he was now really in love with a girl who possessed all the qualifications which render the sex so dear to man. He had formed a plan to get rid of his mistress, Mrs. Irvin, as soon as possible after his trial, and then to marry the girl he loved, but he was doomed to disappointment. As he had not the courage to kill Mrs. Irvin, he had been forced North to marry her. He therefore was determined to kill two birds with one stone, and while North have some keys made to fit the company's pouch.

I sat for some hours in the office of the General Superintendent, cogitating over the matter, and finally concluded to have the notice of the marriage published. I wrote out the notice in the usual form and sent it to the _Philadelphia Press_. It read:

"MARRIED.

"MARONEY--IRVIN--At Philadelphia, on May 7th, 1859, by Alderman G.
W. Williams, Nathan Maroney, of Montgomery, Ala., to Mrs. Irvin, of
Jenkintown, Penn.

"Montgomery papers please copy."

I sent copies of the _Press_ containing this notice to all the Montgomery papers, enclosing the usual one dollar note to pay for its insertion in their columns, and in a few days the news was blazoned forth in Montgomery. But I had not finished with it yet. I got the names of all the ladies with whom Maroney was acquainted in Montgomery and the surrounding country, also of all his male friends, and, buying a large number of the _Press_ containing this notice, I had copies directed to these persons; and also to his friends in Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville, Memphis, Natchez, New Orleans and Mobile, not forgetting the _highly respectable_ ladies at the pleasant house at Chattanooga, or at Natchez, on the hill. These papers I sent to Porter by express, directing him to mail them. Wherever I could learn of any of Maroney's friends, I furnished them with copies of the _Press_. They must have thought some one very kind to take so much interest in him, or more likely thought he had sent them himself. I knew I was making capital for the company by having the notice so fully circulated in Montgomery. The inhabitants were amazed when they saw it, and terribly indignant at Maroney's conduct.

While it was true that Maroney and his wife had never mingled much in society in Montgomery, still he had brought a woman there and openly lived with her as his wife, who had not only led a life of infamy prior to her meeting with Maroney, but who, even then, was but his mistress. It was an outrage upon decency, and as such was felt and resented. From Maroney's personal popularity and agreeable manners, there were many who believed in his innocence, still more who did not desire his conviction. His marriage thinned the ranks of the latter and entirely wiped out almost every trace of the former. The man who would live with and introduce a prostitute as his wife, was regarded as never too good to be guilty of robbery or any other crime.

The sympathy which had been felt and expressed for Maroney by those who regarded him as fighting single-handed against a wealthy and powerful corporation, was now regarded as having been worse than thrown away. It was at once and permanently withdrawn. My move had proved a perfect success and I now felt much easier about the result of the final trial to be held in Montgomery.

We left Maroney, his wife and Flora on the cars, bound for New York, to enjoy their honey-moon. They were shadowed by Green, and he noticed that Mrs. Maroney appeared supremely happy. She had accomplished her purpose; she was now a legally married woman. Maroney was in good spirits, but must have had a hard battle to keep them up. He was now enjoying some of the sweets of crime, being forced to leave the girl he loved and marry a common prostitute. He had sold his freedom for gold, and although outwardly he appeared calm and happy, inwardly he was racked with contending emotions. What would he now not have given to be back in his old position, free from the taint of crime, free to do as he wished? But the fatal step had been taken; he could not retrace it, he must go on, and when he won, as he now felt sure he would, could he not find some quiet way to get rid of his wife? They were rapidly nearing Jersey City, and when they reached there Mrs. Maroney grasped Maroney's arm, and taking Flora by the hand, walked aboard the ferry-boat. No newly-married bride ever felt more exultant than she. She glanced with scorn at the hurrying crowd, and as they roughly jostled her, felt contaminated by the touch. They little dreamed of the reception that awaited them in New York. The news of their marriage had been flashed over the wires to Bangs, and he had made all preparations to give them a warm reception. Bangs had called for Mr. Seward, and he having all the papers ready, drove to the Marshal's office. Seward was a great favorite with every one, and had no trouble in getting United States Marshal Keefe and a deputy to accompany him. They were all engaged when he called, but readily postponed their other business to attend to him. They, with Bangs, proceeded to the ferry and crossed over to Jersey City, to meet the train coming from Philadelphia.

When Maroney and his wife stepped on the ferry boat they did not notice the consultation of Green, Bangs and Marshal Keefe. When the boat touched the wharf in New York, all was hurry and bustle. Maroney, with his wife and Flora, stood one side for a few moments, waiting for the crush to be over, and then stepped proudly out for the wharf. He had taken scarcely three steps on the soil of New York before he was confronted by Marshal Keefe.

"You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I demand that you immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars, the property of the Adams Express, which you feloniously have in your possession."

If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet he could not have been more astonished. The demand of the Marshal, delivered in a loud, harsh tone, and coming so unexpectedly, completely unnerved him, and for a moment he shook like a leaf. His head swam around, and he felt as though he would drop to the ground. By a desperate effort he gained control of himself. His wife hung speechless on his arm, while little Flora grasped her mother's dress, and gazed with a startled, frightened look at the Marshal and the rapidly gathering crowd.

"I have no money belonging to the Express Company!" said Maroney, and supposing that that was all that was wanted with him, he attempted to force himself past the Marshal.

"Not so fast!" exclaimed the Marshal, taking hold of one of Maroney's arms, while his deputy stepped forward to assist him, if Maroney made any resistance. "Not so fast, you must come with me!"

Maroney could scarcely realize his situation; it was to him a horrid dream. In a few moments he would awake and laugh at it. But the jeering crowd, the stern officers of the law, his weeping wife and her frightened child, formed a scene which was indelibly stamped on his memory never to be obliterated. His wife insisted that her husband should be allowed to accompany her to the Astor House, and the Marshal finally consented. At the Astor House he saw his wife and Flora in their room, in the presence of Marshal Keefe, his deputy, and Bangs. No words passed between them. His new-made bride of only six hours was bathed in tears--what a honey-moon! Maroney was almost in tears himself, but he choked them back. He kissed his wife and Flora, and motioning to the officers that he was ready, followed them to Eldridge street jail.

How terribly must he have felt when the heavy door of his cell was bolted upon him, and he was left in solitude to brood over his position. How he must have cursed the moment when he married Mrs. Irvin. He did so merely to save himself, and now he was in prison! What would he not have given to undo what only six hours before he had been so anxious to consummate! What a blow it would have been to him if he could have known the efforts I was then making to disseminate through the South the news of his marriage; but this I did not intend he should know. Mrs. Maroney thought that Maroney would soon be out of jail, but wondered why he had been arrested in New York. She concluded that the Company had determined on the plan of suddenly confronting him and charging him with the crime, hoping that if guilty he would break down and make a confession. He had passed through the trying ordeal unscathed and most likely would be liberated in the morning. She little thought they had been separated never more to be united.

_CHAPTER XVI._

Mr. Seward had done his work well. I had little fear that Maroney would get out, as his bail was fixed at one hundred thousand dollars--double the amount of the robbery.

The question now arose: What shall we do with Maroney? I held a consultation with the Vice-President, Seward, and Bangs, and suggested the propriety of placing one of my detectives, named White, in jail with him. White was in Chicago, but I could send for him and have him in readiness for the work in a few days. White was a shrewd, smart man to act under orders, and nothing more was required. I proposed that he be introduced to to the jail in the following way: He was to assume the character of a St. Louis pork-packer. It was to be charged against him that he had been dealing largely in hogs in the West, had come to New York with a quantity of packed pork of his own to sell; and also had had a lot consigned to him to sell on commission; he had disposed of all the pork, pocketed all the proceeds, and then disappeared, intending to leave for Europe, but had been discovered and arrested. The amount involved in the case should be about thirty-seven thousand dollars. It was part of my plan to introduce a young man, who should pretend to be a nephew of White's, and who should call on him and do his outside business. I had a good man for this work, in the person of Mr. Shanks. His duties would be to call at the jail daily, see his uncle White, carry his letters, go to his lawyers, run all his errands, etc.

White was not to force his acquaintance on Maroney, or any of the prisoners, but to hold himself aloof from them all. He was to pass a good deal of time in writing letters, hold hurried consultations with his nephew and send him off with them. Shanks was to be obliging, and if any of the prisoners requested him to do them favors, he was to willingly consent.

Very few people outside of a prison know how necessary it is to have a friend who will call on prisoners and do little outside favors for them. No matter how popular a man may be, or how many true friends he thinks he has, he will find if he is thrust into prison, that all of them will very likely desert him, and he will then keenly feel the necessity of having some one even to run his errands. If he has no friend to act for him, he will have to pay dearly for every move he makes. A man like Shanks would soon be popular with the prisoners, and have his hands full of commissions.

There were a good many objections made to my plan, but with Mr. Seward's assistance, all its weak points were cleared away, and it was made invulnerable.

I telegraphed, ordering White and Shanks to come on to New York, and, leaving Bangs in charge there, I started in a few days for Philadelphia.

Green was still employed in "shadowing" Mrs. Maroney, and kept a close watch on her movements. On the morning after Maroney's arrest she visited him in the Eldridge street jail, leaving Flora in the Astor House. They had a long, private interview, after which she enquired of the Marshal the amount of bail necessary to effect her husband's release. He informed her that the bail had been fixed at one hundred thousand dollars. She seemed surprised at the large amount, returned and conversed with Maroney, then left the jail, and getting into a carriage, was driven to Thirty-first street. Green hailed a passing cab and followed at his ease. When she stopped, he had his hackman drive on a few blocks and turn down a cross street, where he stopped him. He told the driver to await his return, and getting out of the hack, walked slowly down the street, keeping a sharp lookout on the house she went into. Mrs. Maroney remained in the house about half an hour, and then came out and was driven to Pearl street. Here she went into a large building occupied by an extensive wholesale clothing establishment, remained some time, and then came out with a gentleman who accompanied her to the Eldridge street jail. Green remained in his carriage. Mrs. Maroney and the gentleman soon came out; he bade her good-bye, and she drove to several business-houses in the city.

Maroney received several calls during the day; he was very irritable, and seemed much depressed in spirits.

Mrs. Maroney returned to the Astor House at dark, weary, depressed, and despondent.

Green reported to Bangs that it was easy to read what she had accomplished. Maroney had a number of friends in New York, and she had been to see if they would not go on his bail-bond. They had all refused, some giving one excuse, some another, and the desired bail _could not be procured_.

For the purpose of finding his prospects, I had some of his friends interviewed, and managed to learn that the friend on whom Maroney principally relied to furnish bail, was one whom he had met in the South when he was a drummer, but who had now become a partner in the house.

Mrs. Maroney called on him; he expressed great sympathy for Maroney and her, but could not go on his bond, as the articles of association of the firm forbade any of the partners signing bonds, etc. In two days it was discovered that Maroney had no prospects of getting the required bail. Some of his friends, whom he importuned to assist him, called at the express office to find the reasons for his incarceration. They were generally met by the President or by the General Superintendent and informed that Maroney had robbed the company of ten thousand dollars at one time and forty thousand dollars at another, and it was for this that he was now in prison. The gentlemen saw at once the risk they would run in going his bail and concluded not to venture.

I was convinced that if the public knew he had stolen fifty thousand dollars and that the company were bound to prosecute him, he could not procure bail, and so it turned out.

Mrs. Maroney called at the jail several times and did everything in her power to procure bail, but finally gave up in despair. She had a long interview with Maroney, then drove to the Astor House, paid her bill, and, getting into a carriage with Flora, went to Jersey City and took the train for Philadelphia.

I had sent Roch to New York to "shadow" her and had brought Rivers to Philadelphia with me, as no shadow was needed for Maroney. When Mrs. Maroney left New York, Green turned her over to Roch and he accompanied her to Philadelphia. I had been informed of her departure and had Rivers ready to meet her in Camden on her arrival.

She arrived safely. Rivers relieved Roch and he reported to me. I supposed she would remain for the night in Philadelphia, but was disappointed, as she went directly to the North Pennsylvania station and took the cars for Jenkintown.

I was not quite prepared for this move, but by four in the morning I was in a buggy on my road to Jenkintown. When I arrived I put up at Stemples's, had an early breakfast, and seized upon a favorable opportunity to have a short conversation with Madam Imbert. I hurriedly instructed her to try and meet Mrs. Maroney, and if possible draw from her an account of what had happened and learn her plans for the future. I then got into my buggy and drove back to the city. It was a beautiful, bright morning, and the drive was very delightful.

Madam Imbert, accompanied by Miss Johnson, went for her accustomed stroll in the garden. They walked around for some time and were about returning when they met Mrs. Maroney and Flora. Miss Johnson took charge of Flora, who was her special favorite, and drew her to one side to have a romp while Mrs. Maroney and the Madam strolled along together.

Mrs. Maroney asked very anxiously about the Madam's health and seemed to be much pained when she learned that she was very poorly.

"Mrs. Maroney," said Madam Imbert, "I fear you find me poor company, indeed. Your life must be happy beyond expression. You have a kind husband, a sweet child, everything that makes life enjoyable! while I am separated from my dear husband, far away, with no one to love me! no one to care for me! I have bitter trouble, rendered all the harder to bear by the fact that I have to brood over it alone. I have not one friend in this wide world to whom I can fly for consolation. No! not one! My life is unspeakably lonely. You will forgive me for not being more gay; I cannot help it! I strive to be, but it is impossible. I often fear that my melancholy has a chilling effect on those around me, and that they think me cold and heartless!"

"Madam Imbert, my dear Madam, don't say that you are thought to be cold and heartless! Every one feels that you are suffering some great sorrow, and all are drawn towards you. As for me I have always tried to secure the sympathy of my lady friends, but I have only half succeeded. You are the first one in whom I have ever felt that I could confide, the first whom I wished to be my friend. If you are in trouble and feel the need of a friend, why not rely on me? make me your confidante."

"Mrs. Maroney, you do not know what you ask! My story is a sad one, indeed. I already value your friendship too highly to risk losing it. If you were to know my history, I fear you would turn from me in disgust."

Madam Imbert's tears flowed freely; she leaned on Mrs. Maroney for support. Mrs. Maroney turned into one of the side paths and they took a seat on a bench. After much persuasion, Madam Imbert was prevailed on to disclose her secret.

She described to Mrs. Maroney the many virtues of her husband; told how wealthy he was, and then, with many sobs, and much apparent reluctance, stated that he was enticed into committing forgeries; that he was arrested, tried, convicted and sent to the State prison for ten years, and that now she was debarred from seeing him.

She was greatly relieved when she found that Mrs. Maroney did not turn from her in horror on discovering that she was the wife of a convict. On the contrary, Mrs. Maroney said:

"It was _too_ bad, indeed!"