Chapter IV (1)

In addition to this, it was found, by the investigations of detectives at Philadelphia, that Schwartz was the son of a wealthy retired butcher there, a most respectable man, and that he had a wife and child in Philadelphia, whom he had entirely deserted. This gave an opportunity to take him into custody and still conceal from him that he was suspected of committing a higher crime. The Philadelphia wife and child were taken on to Chicago, and Schwartz was placed under arrest, charged with bigamy.

Mr. Pinkerton went to the jail at once, and, wishing to keep Schwartz's confidence as far as possible, assured him that this arrest was not his work at all, but that of detectives Smith and Murray, who were, as Schwartz knew, working in the interests of the railroad people and of the Chicago "Daily News." Mr. Pinkerton told Schwartz that he still believed, as he had done all along, that Watt was the guilty man, and promised to do whatever he could to befriend Schwartz. The latter did not appear to be very much alarmed, and said that a Philadelphia lawyer was coming on to defend him. The lawyer did come a few days later, when a bond for two thousand dollars was furnished for Schwartz's reappearance, and he was set at liberty. Matters had gone so far, however, that it was not considered safe to leave Schwartz out of jail, and he was immediately rearrested on the charge of murder.

Whether because of long preparation for this ordeal or because he was a man of strong character, Schwartz received this blow without the slightest show of emotion, and went back into the jail as coolly as he had come out. He merely requested that he might have an interview with his wife as soon as possible.

Mr. Pinkerton had evidence enough against Schwartz to furnish a strong presumption of guilt; but it was all circumstantial, and, besides, it did not involve Newton Watt, whose complicity was more than suspected. From the first Mr. Pinkerton had been carefully conciliatory of the later Mrs. Schwartz. At just the right moment, and by adroit management, he got her under his direction, and by taking a train with her to Morris, and then on the next morning taking another train back to Chicago, he succeeded in preventing her from getting the advice of her husband's lawyer, who was meantime making the same double journey on pursuing trains with the design of cautioning her against speaking to Mr. Pinkerton. She had come to regard Mr. Pinkerton more as a protector than as an enemy, and he, during the hours they were together, used every device to draw from her some damaging admission. He told her that the evidence against her husband, although serious in its character, was not, in his opinion, sufficient to establish his guilt. He told her of the bills found in Schwartz's possession, of the torn piece of the draft taken from the valise, of the marks on his hands and the lies he had told. All this, he said, proved that Schwartz had some connection with the robbery, but not that he had committed the murder, or done more than assist Watt, whom Mr. Pinkerton professed to regard as the chief criminal. The only hope of saving her husband now, he impressed upon her, was for her to make a plain statement of the truth, and trust that he would use this in her husband's interest.

After listening to all that he said, and trying in many ways to evade the main question, Mrs. Schwartz at last admitted to Mr. Pinkerton that her husband had found a package containing five thousand dollars of the stolen money under one of the seats on conductor Danforth's train, on the night of his return to Chicago. He had kept this money and used it for his own purposes, but had been guilty of no other offense in the matter. Mrs. Schwartz stuck resolutely to this statement, and would admit nothing further.

Believing that he had drawn from her as much as he could, Mr. Pinkerton now accompanied Mrs. Schwartz to the jail, where she was to see her husband. The first words she said, on entering the room where he was, were: "Harry, I have told Mr. Pinkerton the whole truth. I thought that was the best way, for he is your friend. I told him about your finding the five thousand dollars under the seat of the car, and that that was all you had to do with the business."

For the first time Schwartz's emotions nearly betrayed him. However, he braced himself, and only admitted in a general way that there was some truth in what his wife had said. He refused positively to go into details, seemed very nervous, and almost immediately asked to be left alone with his wife. Mr. Pinkerton had been expecting this, and was prepared for it. He realized the shock that would be caused in Schwartz's mind by his wife's unexpected confession, and counted on this to lead to further admissions. It was, therefore, of the highest importance that credible witnesses should overhear all that transpired in the interview between Schwartz and his wife. With this end in view, the room where the interview was to take place had been arranged so that a number of witnesses could see and hear without their presence being suspected; and the sheriff of the county, a leading merchant, and a leading banker of the town, were waiting there in readiness.

As soon as the door had closed and the husband and wife were left alone, Schwartz exclaimed:

"You fool, you have put a rope around Watt's and my neck!"

"Why, Harry, I had to tell him something, he knew so much. You can trust him."

"You ought to know better than to trust anybody."

The man walked back and forth, a prey to the most violent emotions, his wife trying vainly to quiet him. At each affectionate touch he would brush her off roughly, with a curse, and go on pacing back and forth fiercely. Suddenly he burst out:

"What did you do with that coat--the one you cut the mask out of?"

"Oh, that's all right; it's in the woodshed, under the whole woodpile."

They continued to talk for over an hour, referring to the murder and robbery repeatedly, and furnishing evidence enough to establish beyond any question the guilt of both Schwartz and Watt.

Meantime Watt had been arrested in Chicago, also charged with murder, and in several examinations had shown signs of breaking down and confessing, but in each instance had recovered himself and said nothing. The evidence of Schwartz himself, however, in the interview at the jail, taken with the mass of other evidence that had accumulated, was sufficient to secure the conviction of both men, who were condemned at the trial to life-imprisonment in the Joliet penitentiary. They would undoubtedly have been hanged but for the conscientious scruples of one juryman, who did not believe in capital punishment. Watt has since died, but Schwartz, at last accounts, was still in prison.

About a year after the trial Schwartz's Chicago wife died of consumption. On her death-bed she made a full confession. She said that her husband's mind had been inflamed by the constant reading of sensational literature of the dime-novel order; and that under this evil influence he had planned the robbery, believing that it would be easy to intimidate a weak little man like Nichols, and escape with the money without harming him. Nichols, however, had fought like a tiger up and down the car, and had finally forced them to kill him. In the fight he had torn off the mask that Mrs. Schwartz had made out of one of her husband's old coats. It was Watt who fired the pistol, while Schwartz used the poker. Schwartz had given Watt five thousand dollars of the stolen money, and had kept the rest himself. He had carried the money away in an old satchel bought for the purpose. A most unusual place of concealment had been chosen, and one where the money had escaped discovery, although on several occasions, in searching the house, the detectives had literally held it in their hands. Schwartz had taken a quantity of the cartridges he bought for his shot-gun, and emptying them, had put in each shell one of the fifty- or one-hundred-dollar bills, upon which he had then loaded in the powder and the shot in the usual way, so that the shells presented the ordinary appearance as they lay in the drawer. The detectives had even picked out some of the shot and powder in two or three of the shells; but, finding them so like other cartridges, had never thought of probing clear to the bottom of the shell for a crumpled-up bill.

Thus about thirteen thousand dollars lay for weeks in these ordinary-looking cartridges, and were finally removed in the following way: While Schwartz was in jail, a well-known lawyer of Philadelphia came to Mrs. Schwartz, one day, with an order from her husband to deliver the money over to him. She understood this was to defray the expenses of the trial and to pay the other lawyers. Superintendent Robertson remembers well the dying woman's emotion as she made this solemn declaration, one calculated to compromise seriously a man of some standing and belonging to an honored profession. Her body was wasted with disease, and she knew that her end was near. There was a flush on her face, and her eyes were bright with hatred as she declared that not one dollar of that money was ever returned to her, or ever used in paying the costs of her husband's trial. Nor was one dollar of it ever returned to the railroad company, or to the bank officials, who were the real owners.

The Destruction of the Renos

The first, and probably the most daring, band of train robbers that ever operated in the United States was the notorious Reno gang, an association of desperate outlaws who, in the years immediately following the war, committed crimes without number in Missouri and Indiana, and for some years terrorized several counties in the region about Seymour in the last-named State. The leaders of this band were four brothers, John Reno, Frank Reno, "Sim" Reno, and William Reno, who rivaled one another in a spirit of lawlessness that must have been born in their blood through the union of a hardy Swiss emigrant with a woman sprung from the Pennsylvania Dutch. Of the six children from this marriage only one escaped the restless, law-despising taint that made the others desperate characters, this single white sheep being "Clint" Reno, familiarly known as "Honest" Reno, and much despised by the rest of the family for his peaceful ways. Even Laura Reno, the one daughter, famed throughout the West for her beauty, loved danger and adventure, was an expert horsewoman, an unerring shot, and as quick with her gun as any man. Laura fairly worshiped her desperado brothers, whom she aided in more than one of their criminal undertakings, shielding them from justice when hard pressed, and swearing to avenge them when retribution overtook them after their day of triumph.

During the war the Renos had become notorious as bounty-jumpers; and at its close, with a fine scorn for the ways of commonplace industry, these fierce-hearted, dashing young fellows, all well-built, handsome boys, cast about for further means of excitement and opportunities to make an easy living. Beginning their operations in a small way with house-breaking and store robberies, they soon proved themselves so reckless in their daring, so fertile in expedients, so successful in their coups, that they quickly extended their field until, in the early part of 1866, they had placed a wide region under contribution, setting all forms of law at defiance.

John Reno and Frank Reno, the elder brothers, were at this time the dominating spirits of the band, and they soon associated with them several of the most skilful and notorious counterfeiters and safe-burglars in the country, among these being Peter McCartney, James and Robert Rittenhouse, George McKay, John Dean, _alias_ "California Nelse," and William Hopkins. The band soon came to be named with the greatest dread and awe, good citizens fearing to speak a word of censure, lest swift punishment be visited upon them. The Reno influence made itself felt even in local politics, corrupt officials being elected at the instigation of the outlaws, so that their conviction became practically impossible.

The Renos, toward the end of 1866, began a series of train robberies which were carried out with such perfection of organization, such amazing coolness, and such uniform success as to attract national attention. The first of these robberies took place on the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad, being accomplished by only four men, Frank and John Reno, assisted by William Sparks and Charles Gerroll. Other train robberies followed in quick succession, the same methods being used in each, with the same immunity from capture, so that people in this region would say to one another, quite as a matter of course, "The Reno boys got away with another train yesterday."

But while indulging in its own acts of outlawry, the Reno band strenuously objected to any rivalry or competition on the part of other highwaymen. A train robbery was perpetrated on the Jeffersonville Railroad early in 1867. The Renos had no connection with this robbery. It was accomplished by two young men named Michael Collins and Walker Hammond, the two men escaping with six thousand dollars, taken from a messenger of the Adams Express Company. But their horses had carried them only a short distance from the looted train when they found themselves surrounded by the formidable Renos, who had quietly watched the robbery from a place of concealment, and now unceremoniously relieved the robbers of their plunder. Not content with this, and as if to intimidate others from like trespasses on their preserves, the Renos used their influence to have their rivals arrested for the crime by which they had profited so little; and both were subsequently tried, convicted, and sentenced to long terms in the Indiana penitentiary. The Renos, meantime, although they were known to have secured and kept the six thousand dollars, were allowed to go unmolested, and continued their depredations.

Up to this time the Reno gang had confined their operations, for the most part, to Indiana; but now they began to make themselves felt in Missouri, where a number of daring crimes were committed, notably the robbing of the county treasurer's safe at Gallatin, in Daviess County. In this last act John Reno was known to have been personally concerned. The case was placed in the hands of Allan Pinkerton.

Taking up the investigation with his accustomed energy, Mr. Pinkerton traced John Reno back to Seymour, Indiana, where the gang was so strongly intrenched in the midst of corrupt officials and an intimidated populace that any plan of open arrest was out of the question. Recognizing this, Allan Pinkerton had recourse to the cunning of his craft. He began by stationing in Seymour a trustworthy assistant, who was instructed, on a given day and at a given hour, to decoy John Reno to the railroad-station on any pretense that might suggest itself. Then he arranged to have half a dozen Missourians, the biggest and most powerful fellows he could find, led by the sheriff of Daviess County, board an express-train on the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad at Cincinnati, and ride through to Seymour, arriving there at the time agreed upon with his assistant. Along with them was to be a constable bearing all the papers necessary to execute a requisition.

When the train reached Seymour there was the usual crowd lounging about the station, and in it were John Reno and Mr. Pinkerton's lieutenant, who had entirely succeeded in his task. While Reno was staring at the passengers as they left the train, he was suddenly surrounded and seized by a dozen strong arms; and before his friends could rally to his aid, or realize what was happening, he was clapped in irons, carried aboard the train, and soon was rolling away to Missouri, under arrest.

Reno's friends stoutly contested the case in the Missouri courts, arguing that the prisoner had been kidnapped and that the law had therefore been violated by his captors. The courts decided against them on this point, however; and John Reno, with several less important members of the gang, was tried and convicted. He was sentenced to twenty-five years of hard labor in the Missouri penitentiary.

This was the first break in the ranks of the band, the first instance in which they had suffered for their crimes. But the bold spirit of the organization was still unbroken. Three brothers still remained to replace the one who was gone; and so far from learning caution, the band launched forthwith into still more daring and frequent offenses. Trains were "held up" right and left; robberies were committed; and early in 1868 the gang made a famous raid across the country through Indiana and Illinois, robbing safes in county treasurers' offices in a number of places. In several instances some of the members were arrested; but they always managed to have the prosecution quashed, or in some way to escape conviction. In the spring of 1868 their operations became so outrageous, and the situation so serious, that Allan Pinkerton was again called upon to do something in the cause of public safety.

In March of this year the safe of the county treasurer at Magnolia, Harrison County, Iowa, was robbed of about fourteen thousand dollars; and Allan Pinkerton detailed his son, William A. Pinkerton, and two assistants, to run down the burglars. Arrived at the scene of the robbery, the detectives found that the thieves had made their escape on a hand-car and had gone in the direction of Council Bluffs. At this time in Council Bluffs there was a low saloon, kept by a man who had formerly lived in Seymour and who was known as a bad character. It was decided to keep a sharp watch on this resort, Mr. Pinkerton reasoning that since Seymour was the friendly refuge of the Renos, it was altogether likely that the outlaws would have a friend, and perhaps an abettor, in the saloon-keeper who had once lived there. After two days' watching, the detectives observed a large man of dark complexion enter the saloon and engage in close conversation with the proprietor, having with him, evidently, some mysterious business.

Investigation disclosed this man to be Michael Rogers, a prominent and wealthy citizen of Council Bluffs, and the owner of an extensive property in the adjoining counties. Puzzled, but still persuaded that he had found a clue, Mr. Pinkerton put a "shadow" on Rogers, and hurried back to Magnolia, where he learned that on the day preceding the robbery Rogers had been seen in Magnolia, where he had paid his taxes, and in doing so had loitered for some time in the treasurer's office. This also looked suspicious. But, on the other hand, search as he might, the detective could find nothing against Rogers's character, every one testifying to his entire respectability.

Still unconvinced, Mr. Pinkerton returned to Council Bluffs, where he was informed by the man who had been "shadowing" Rogers that several strange men had been seen to enter Rogers's house and had not been seen to come out again. The watch was continued more closely than ever, and after four days of patient waiting, Rogers, accompanied by three strangers, was seen to leave the house cautiously and take a west-bound train on the Pacific Railroad. One of these men, a brawny, athletic fellow nearly six feet tall, and about twenty-eight years of age, Mr. Pinkerton shrewdly suspected was Frank Reno, although he could not be certain, never having seen Frank Reno. Feeling sure that if his suspicions were correct the men would ultimately return to Rogers's house, Mr. Pinkerton did not follow them on the train, but contented himself with keeping the strictest watch for their return. The very next morning the same four men were discovered coming back to the house from the direction of the railroad. But at that hour no train was due, which was a little curious; and another curious point was that they were all covered with mud and bore marks of having been engaged in some severe, rough labor. The hour was early; the dwellers in Council Bluffs were not yet astir. A little later the city was thrown into a fever of excitement by the news that the safe of the county treasurer at Glenwood, in Mills County, about thirty miles distant, had been robbed the previous night. No trace had yet been got of the thieves, but everything indicated that they were the same men who had robbed the safe at Magnolia. One remarkable point of similarity in the two cases was the means employed by the robbers in escaping, a hand-car having been used also by the Glenwood thieves; and they, too, were believed to have fled in the direction of Council Bluffs. Investigation soon made this absolutely certain, for the missing hand-car was found lying beside the railroad, a short distance from the Council Bluffs station.

Putting these new disclosures beside his previous suspicions and discoveries, Mr. Pinkerton was further strengthened in his distrust of the man Rogers; and although the local authorities, to whom he revealed his suspicions, laughed at him, declaring that Rogers was one of the most respectable citizens of the State, he resolved to attempt an arrest. Proceeding to Rogers's house with all the force he could command, he placed a guard at front and rear, and then, with a few attendants, made his way inside. The first person he met was Mr. Rogers himself, who affected to be very indignant at the intrusion.

"Who have you in this house?" asked Mr. Pinkerton.

"Nobody but my family," answered Mr. Rogers.

"We'll see about that," answered Mr. Pinkerton; and then, turning to his men, he ordered them to search the premises.

They did so, and soon came upon the three strangers, who were taken so completely by surprise that they made no effort at resistance. They were about to sit down to breakfast, which was spread for them in the kitchen. A comparison with photographs and descriptions left no doubt that one of the three was Frank Reno. A second--a man of dark complexion, tall, and well built--proved to be Albert Perkins, a well-known member of the Reno gang. The third was none other than the notorious Miles Ogle, the youngest member of the band, who afterward came to be known as the most expert counterfeiter in the United States. Ogle at this writing is in the Ohio penitentiary, serving his third term of imprisonment. At his last capture there were found in his possession some of the best counterfeit plates ever made.

While they were securing the four men the detectives noticed that smoke was curling out of the kitchen stove, accompanied by a sudden blaze. Mr. Pinkerton pulled off a lid, and found on the coals several packages of bank-notes, already on fire. Fortunately the notes had been so tightly wrapped together that only a few of them were destroyed before the packages were got out. Those that remained were afterward identified as of the money that had been stolen from the Glenwood safe. There was thus no question that these were the robbers so long sought for. A further search of the house brought to light two sets of burglars' tools, which served as cumulative evidence.

The men were carried to Glenwood by the next train. They were met by a great and excited crowd, and for a time were in danger of lynching. Better counsel prevailed, however, and they were placed in the jail to await trial.

With the men in secure, safe custody, there was no doubt of their ultimate conviction; and every one was breathing easier at the thought that at last the Reno gang was robbed of its terrors. Then suddenly--no one will ever know how it happened--the prisoners made their escape. Great was the surprise and chagrin of the sheriff of Mills County when, on the morning of April 1, 1868, he entered the jail, only to find their cells empty. A big hole sawed through the wall told by what way they had made their exit. They left behind the mocking salutation, "April Fool," scrawled in chalk over the floors and walls of the jail.

A large reward was offered for the capture of the robbers, but nothing was heard of them until two months later, when an express-car on the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad was boarded at Marshfield, Indiana, by a gang of masked men, and robbed of ninety-eight thousand dollars. The messenger made a brave resistance, but could not cope with the robbers, who lifted him bodily and hurled him out of the car, down a steep embankment, while the train was running at high speed.

All the facts in the case pointed to the Reno brothers as the authors of this outrage, for by frequent repetition their methods of robbery had become familiar. Allan Pinkerton, furthermore, obtained precise evidence that it was the work of the Renos from secret agents whom he had stationed at Seymour to watch the doings of the gang. Two of these agents engaged apparently in business at Seymour, one setting up as a saloon-keeper in a rough part of the town, another taking railroad employment, which kept him constantly near the station. A third made a wide acquaintance by passing for a gambler and general good fellow. So successful were they that Allan Pinkerton was soon in possession of facts proving not only that the Marshfield robbery had been committed by the Renos, but that another train robbery which followed was executed by John Moore, Charles Gerroll, William Sparks, and three others, all members of the Reno organization. Moore, Gerroll, and Sparks were arrested shortly after, and placed on a train to be taken from Seymour to Brownstown, the county-seat. But they never reached their destination. As the train stopped at a small station some miles from Brownstown, a band of masked men, well armed, rushed on board, overpowered the officers, hurried the three outlaws away to a neighboring farm-yard, and there strung them up to a beech-tree, while an old German who owned the farm looked on approvingly.

This was the first act of retributive justice done by the Secret Vigilance Committee of Southern Indiana, an organization as extraordinary as the situation it was created to deal with. The entire population of that part of Indiana seemed to have risen in self-defense to crush out lawlessness. A second act followed several days later, when three other men who had been concerned in the latest train robbery, having been captured by the county officials, were taken from their hands and condemned to the same fate as their companions. Each one, as he was about to be swung off, was asked by the maskers if he had anything to say. The first two shook their heads sullenly, and died without speaking. The third, standing on a barrel with the rope round his neck, looked over the crowd with contemptuous bravado, and addressing them as a lot of "mossback Hoosiers," said he was glad he was not of their class, and was proud to die as a good Republican. The barrel was kicked away, the rope stiffened with his weight, and there ended the career of the sixth member of the band.

Hard times followed for the surviving Renos. Realizing that their power was broken, they fled in various directions. The three brothers, Frank, William, and "Sim," though still at large, were not left long to enjoy their liberty. A large price was placed on their heads, and betrayal came quickly. William and "Sim" were arrested soon after, in Indianapolis, and turned over to the local authorities, who, in order to avoid the Vigilance Committee, took the prisoners to New Albany, in an adjoining county, where they were placed in jail.

The Vigilance Committee, growing stronger and more determined every day, now scoured the whole country for other members of the gang or for persons believed to be in sympathy with it. They literally went on the "war-path" through this whole region of Indiana, and it went ill with any poor wretch who incurred their suspicion. Like the "Whitecaps" of a later day, they sent warnings to all who came on their black-list, and administered by night, and sometimes by day, such promiscuous floggings and other forms of punishment that the tough and criminal element of the region was entirely cowed, and feared to raise a hand in defense of the Renos, as it had previously done. Up to the time the Vigilance Committee was formed not a member of the Reno gang had been convicted in that locality, largely because the people were afraid to testify against them. They knew that if they should testify, their stock would be killed, their barns burned, and they themselves waylaid and beaten. This was the reason offered for the formation of the Vigilance Committee of Southern Indiana. Whether a justification or not, the committee must certainly be credited with having rid the State of a monstrous evil.

In the excitement of other events the Pinkertons had not forgotten the men who had escaped from the Glenwood jail. They finally traced Miles Ogle and Albert Perkins to Indianapolis; and there Ogle was captured, but Perkins escaped. Frank Reno was discovered a little later at Windsor, Canada, where he was living with Charles Anderson, a professional burglar, safe-blower, and "short-card" gambler, who had fled to Canada to escape prosecution. Reno, operating with Anderson, made a practice of registering as "Frank Going" if the enterprise in which he was engaged was prospering, and as "Frank Coming" if it was not prospering. He and Anderson were now arrested on a charge of robbery and of assault with intent to kill, in the case of the express messenger hurled from his car at Marshfield, Indiana. Under this form their offense became extraditable; and after a long trial before the stipendiary or government magistrate, Gilbert McMicken, at Windsor, the men were ordered for extradition. Aided by the ablest lawyers, they carried their case, however, to the highest court in Canada. But the decision of the lower court was affirmed; and in October, 1868, the men were surrendered into the hands of Allan Pinkerton, who was delegated by the United States government to receive them. It was due to the patience and persistence of Mr. Alfred Gaither, the Western manager of the Adams Express Company, and his then assistant, Mr. L.C. Weir, now president of the company, and to the general policy of the company to permit no compromise with thieves, that, regardless of cost and time, the prosecution was continued until it issued thus successfully.

Michael Rogers was also discovered to be in Windsor at this time, and he was known to have had a hand in the Marshfield robbery; but he escaped arrest, and remained securely in Windsor for a year or two. Later, though, he reached the penitentiary, being brought to grief by a burglary done at Tolono, Illinois. On coming out, he joined the notorious McCartney gang of counterfeiters, and had many narrow escapes. The last known of him, grown an old man, he was living quietly on a farm in Texas.

Made at last secure of Reno and Anderson, Allan Pinkerton chartered a tug to carry them to Cleveland, and thus avoid the friends who, as he had reason to know, were waiting across the river in Detroit to effect a rescue. When the tug had gone about twenty miles, it was run down by a large steamer and sunk, the passengers, including the prisoners, being saved from drowning with the greatest difficulty. The prisoners were carried on to Cleveland by another boat, and from there were hurried on by rail to New Albany, where they were placed in jail along with "Sim" and William Reno.

The final passage in the history of the Reno gang occurred about a month later, in the latter part of November, 1868, when one day a passenger-car was dropped off at Seymour, Indiana, some distance from the station. There was nothing remarkable in this, nor did the car attract any attention. That night a train passing through Seymour took up the car and drew it away. A few people about the station when the car was taken up remembered afterward that this car was filled with strange-looking men, who wore Scotch caps and black cloth masks, and seemed to be under the command of a tall, dark-haired man addressed by every one as "No. 1." Although there were at least fifty of these men, it is a remarkable fact, developed in a subsequent investigation, that the conductor of the train could remember nothing about the incident, declaring that he did not enter the car and knew nothing of its being attached to his train. It is certain the company of masked men did everything in their power to avoid attention, scarcely speaking to one another during the ride and making all their movements as noiseless as possible.

The train reached New Albany at two o'clock in the morning. The car was detached, and was presently emptied of its fifty men as silently and mysteriously as it had been filled. A few hurried commands were given by "No. 1," and then the company marched in quiet order to the jail. Arrived there, they summoned the jailer to open the doors, but were met with a firm refusal and the shining barrel of a revolver. There followed an exchange of shots, in which the sheriff received a ball in the arm, and two local police officers were captured. Without loss of time the jail doors were battered down; the company entered, and taking the three Reno brothers and their friend, Charles Anderson, from their cells, placed nooses that they had ready around the men's necks, and hung them to the rafters in the corridors of the jail. Then, having locked the doors of the jail, leaving the prisoners secure, they made their way silently back to the New Albany station, reaching there in time to catch the train that drew out at 3:30 A. M. The same special car in which they had come was coupled to this train, and dropped off at the switch when Seymour was reached. This was just before daybreak on a dreary November morning.

Who these fifty men were was never discovered, although, because of the fact that Reno and Anderson had been extradited from Great Britain, the general government made an investigation. It was rumored, however, and generally understood, that the company included some of the most prominent people in Seymour, among others a number of railroad and express employees. It was found that at the time of the lynching all the telegraph wires leading from New Albany had been cut, so that it was noon of the following day before the country learned of it.

The newspapers described the leader of the party as a man of unusual stature, who wore a handsome diamond ring on the little finger of his right hand. Later some significance was attached to the fact that a well-known railroad official who answered this description as to stature and who had always worn a handsome diamond ring previous to the lynching, ceased to wear his ring for several years afterward.

After the execution of her brothers, it was rumored that Laura Reno had taken an oath to devote the rest of her life to avenging them; and for a moment there were threats and mutterings of reprisals from allies or surviving members of the gang. But these latter were not heard again after a certain morning, the third day after the execution, when the people of Seymour, on leaving their homes, were startled to see on the walls and in other public places large posters proclaiming that if any property was injured or destroyed, or any persons molested or assaulted, or if there was any further talk in regard to recent happenings, some twenty-five persons, therein frankly named, who were known to be sympathizers with the Renos, or to be more or less intimately connected with them, had better beware. And as for the sister's deadly oath, she did no act in proof of the violent intentions imputed to her, but instead subsequently became the wife of a respectable man and settled down to a useful life, though a much more commonplace one than she had previously known. John Reno, after serving fifteen years in the Missouri penitentiary, was released, and is said to be at present living on the old farm. "Clint" Reno, or "Honest" Reno, always stayed at the old homestead, and has never been willing to speak of his brothers or of what happened to them. Seymour, purged of the evil influences that corrupted it, has grown into a thriving and beautiful little city, and is to-day one of the model towns of Indiana.

The American Exchange Bank Robbery

Late in the afternoon of Friday, May 4, 1888, two messengers left the American Exchange National Bank, at the northeast corner of Cedar Street and Broadway, New York City, and started down the busy thoroughfare for the office of the Adams Express Company, a few blocks distant. They carried between them, each holding one of the handles, a valise made of canvas and leather, in which had just been placed, in the presence of the paying-teller, a package containing forty-one thousand dollars in greenbacks, to be transmitted to the United States Treasury in Washington for redemption.

Although the messengers--Edward S. Crawford and old "Dominie" Earle--were among the bank's most trusted employees, their honesty being considered above suspicion, they were nevertheless followed at a short distance by bank detective McDougal, an old-time police detective, whose snow-white beard and ancient style of dress have long made him a personage of note on Broadway. Detective McDougal followed the messengers, not because he had any fear that they were planning a robbery, but because it is an imperative rule of all great banking institutions that the transfer of large sums of money, even for very short distances, shall be watched over with the most scrupulous care. Each messenger is supposed to act as a check on his fellow, while the detective walking in the rear is a check on both. In such cases all three men are armed, and would use their weapons without hesitation should an attack be made upon them.

The messengers walked on through the hurrying crowd, keeping on the east sidewalk as far as Wall Street, where they turned across, and continued their way on the west sidewalk as far as the Adams Express Company's building, which stands at No. 59 Broadway. Having seen them safely inside the building, the detective turned back to the bank, where his services were required in other matters.

Passing down the large room strewn with boxes and packages ready for shipment, the two messengers turned to the right, and ascended the winding stairs that in those days led to the money department, on the second floor. No one paid much attention to them, as at this busy hour bank messengers were arriving and departing every few minutes. Still, some of the clerks remembered afterward, or thought they did, that the old man, Earle, ascended the stairs more slowly than his more active companion, who went ahead, carrying the valise alone. Both messengers, however, were present at the receiving-window of the money department when the package was taken from the valise and handed to the clerk, who gave a receipt for it in the usual form: "Received from the American Exchange Bank one package marked as containing forty-one thousand dollars, for transfer to Washington"; or, at least, so far as has ever been proved, both messengers were present when the package was handed in.

The two messengers, having performed their duty, went away, Earle hurrying to the ferry to catch a train out into New Jersey, where he lived, and Crawford returning to the bank with the empty valise. The valuable package had meantime been ranged behind the heavily wired grating along with dozens of others, some of them containing much larger sums. The clerks in the money department of the Adams Express Company become so accustomed to handling gold, silver, and bank-notes, fortunes done up in bags, boxes, or bundles, that they think little more of this precious merchandise than they might of so much coal or bricks. A quick glance, a touch of the hand, satisfies them that the seals, the wrappings, the labels, the general appearance, of the packages are correct; and having entered them duly on the way-bills and turned them over to the express messenger who is to forward them to their destination, they think no more about them.

In this instance the forty-one-thousand-dollar package, after a brief delay, was locked in one of the small portable safes, a score of which are always lying about in readiness, and was lowered to the basement, where it was loaded on one of the company's wagons. The wagon was then driven to Jersey City, guarded by the messenger in charge, his assistant, and the driver, all three men being armed, and was safely placed aboard the night express for Washington. It is the company's rule that the messenger who starts with a through safe travels with it to its destination, though he has to make a journey of a thousand miles. Sometimes the destination of money under transfer is so remote that the service of several express companies is required; and in that case the messenger of the Adams Company accompanies the money only to the point where it is delivered to the messenger of the next company, and so on.

The next morning, when the package from the American Exchange Bank was delivered in Washington, the experienced Treasury clerk who received it perceived at once, from the condition of the package, that something was wrong. Employees of the Treasury Department seem to gain a new sense, and to be able to distinguish bank-notes from ordinary paper merely by the "feel," even when done up in bundles. Looking at the label mark of forty-one thousand dollars, the clerk shook his head, and called the United States Treasurer, James W. Hyatt, who also saw something suspicious in the package. Mr. Blanchard, the Washington agent of the Adams Express Company, was summoned, and in his presence the package was opened. It was found to contain nothing more valuable than slips of brown straw paper, the coarse variety used by butchers in wrapping up meat, neatly cut to the size of bank-notes. The forty-one thousand dollars were missing.

It was evident that at some point between the bank and the Treasury a bogus package had been substituted for the genuine one. The question was, Where and by whom had the substitution been made?

The robbery was discovered at the Treasury in Washington on Saturday morning. The news was telegraphed to New York immediately, and on Saturday afternoon anxious councils were held by the officials of the American Exchange Bank and the Adams Express Company. Inspector Byrnes was notified; the Pinkerton Agency was notified; and urgent despatches were sent to Mr. John Hoey, president of the express company, and to Robert Pinkerton, who were both out of town, that their presence was required immediately in New York. Meanwhile every one who had had any connection with the stolen package--the paying-teller of the bank, other bank clerks, the messengers, detective McDougal, the receiving-clerks of the Adams Express Company, and the express messenger--was closely examined. Where and how the forty-one thousand dollars had been stolen was important to learn not only in itself, but also to fix responsibility for the sum lost as between the bank and the express company.

Three theories were at once suggested: the bogus package might have been substituted for the genuine one either at the bank, between the bank and the express office, or between the express office and the Treasury. The first assumption threw suspicion on some of the bank employees, the second upon the two bank messengers, the third upon some one in the service of the express company. Both the bank and the express company stoutly maintained the integrity of its own employees.

An examination of the bogus package disclosed some points of significance. Ordinarily, when bank-notes are done up for shipment by an experienced clerk, the bills are pressed together as tightly as possible in small bundles, which are secured with elastic bands, and then wrapped snugly in strong paper, until the whole makes a package almost as hard as a board. Around this package the clerk knots strong twine, melts a drop of sealing-wax over each knot, and stamps it with the bank's seal. The finished package thus presents a neat and trim appearance. But in the present instance the package received at the Treasury was loosely and slovenly wrapped, and the seals seemed to have been put on either in great haste or by an inexperienced hand. Moreover, the label must have been cut from the stolen package and pasted on the other, for the brown paper of a previous wrapping showed plainly in a margin running around the label. The address on the package read:

"$41,000.
"United States Treasurer,
"Washington,
"D. C."

All this was printed, except the figures "41,000," even the dollar-sign. The figures were in the writing of Mr. Watson, the paying-teller of the bank, whose business it was to oversee the sending of the money. His initials were also marked on the label, with the date of the sending; so that on examining the label Mr. Watson himself was positive that it was genuine.

All this made it tolerably clear that the robbery had not been committed at the bank before the package was intrusted to the two messengers; for no bank clerk would have made up so clumsy a package, and the paying-teller himself, had he been a party to the crime, would not have cut the label written by himself from the genuine package and pasted it on the bogus one; he would simply have written out another label, thus lessening the chances of detection. Furthermore, it was shown by testimony that during the short time between the sealing up of the package in the paying-teller's department and its delivery to Dominie Earle, who took it first, it was constantly under the observation of half a dozen bank employees; so that the work of cutting off the label and pasting it on the bogus package could scarcely have been accomplished then without detection.

Earle and Crawford, the bank messengers, were submitted to repeated examinations; but their statements threw no light upon the mystery. Both stuck persistently to the same story, which was that neither had loosed his hold on the handle of the valise from the moment they left the bank until they had delivered the package through the window of the express company's money department. Accepting these statements as true, it was impossible that the package had been tampered with in this part of its journey; while the assumption that they were not true implied apparently a collusion between the two messengers, which was highly improbable, since Dominie Earle had been a servant of the bank for thirty-five years, and had never in that long term failed in his duty or done anything to arouse distrust. Before entering the bank's employ he had been a preacher, and his whole life seemed to have been one of simplicity and honest dealing.

As for Crawford, who was, indeed, a new man, it was plain that if the Dominie told the truth, and had really kept his hold on the valise-handle all the way to the express company's window, his companion, honest or dishonest, would have had no opportunity to cut off the label, paste it on the bogus package, and make the substitution.

Finally came the theory that the money package had been stolen while in the care of the express company. In considering this possibility it became necessary to know exactly what had happened to the package from the moment it was taken through the window of the money department up to the time of its delivery at the Treasury. The package was first receipted for by the head of the money department, Mr. J. C. Young. Having handed the receipt to the bank messengers, he passed the package to his assistant, Mr. Littlefield, who in turn passed it on to another clerk, Mr. Moody, who way-billed it in due form for Washington, and then placed it in the iron safe which was to carry it on its journey. Two or three hours may have elapsed between the receipt of the package and the shipment of the safe, but during this time the package was constantly in view of five or six clerks in the money department, and, unless they were all in collusion, it could scarcely have been stolen by any one there. As for the express messenger who accompanied the safe on the wagon to the train, and then on the train to Washington, and then on another wagon to the Treasury building, his innocence seemed clearly established, since the safe had been locked and sealed, according to custom, before its delivery to him, and showed no signs of having been tampered with when opened in Washington the following morning by another representative of the express company. The messenger who accompanies a through safe to its destination, indeed, has small chance of getting inside, not only because of the protecting seal, but also because he is never allowed to have the key to the safe or to know its combination. Recently, as a still further safeguard, the Adams Express Company has introduced into its cars an equipment of large burglar-proof and fire-proof safes, especially as a guard against train robbers, who found it comparatively easy to break open the small safes once in use. In the present instance, of course, there was no question of train robbers.

One important fact stood out plain and uncontrovertible: that a responsible clerk in the money department of the Adams Express Company had receipted for a package supposed to contain forty-one thousand dollars intrusted to the company by the bank. This threw the responsibility on the company, at least until it could be shown that the package as delivered contained brown paper, and not bank-notes. In accordance with their usual policy of promptness and liberality, the Adams people paid over to the American Exchange Bank the sum of forty-one thousand dollars, and said no more about it. But their silence did not mean inactivity. Their instructions to their detectives in this case, as in all similar cases, were to spare neither time nor expense, but to continue the investigation until the thieves had been detected and brought to punishment, or until the last possibility of clearing up the mystery had certainly expired.

Hastening to New York in response to the telegram sent him, Robert Pinkerton examined the evidence already collected by his representative, and then himself questioned all persons in any way concerned in the handling of the money. Mr. Pinkerton, after his investigation, was not so sure as some persons were that the package had been stolen by employees of the express company. He inclined rather to the opinion that, in the rush of business in the express office, the false package, badly made up though it was, might have been passed by one of the clerks. This conclusion turned his suspicions first toward the two bank messengers. Of these he was not long in deciding Dominie Earle to be, in all probability, innocent. While he had known of instances where old men, after years of unimpeachable life, had suddenly turned to crime, he knew such cases to be infrequent, and he decided that Earle's was not one of them. Of the innocence of the other messenger, Crawford, he was not so sure. He began a careful study of his record.