Nick Carter Stories No. 149, July 17, 1915: A Network of Crime; or, Nick Carter's Tangled Skein.

CHAPTER IX.

JACK O’ DIAMONDS.

The young man looked at her admiringly. “Say, that’s pretty clever of you. It sounds like a couple of lines [Pg 41]out of a book. You can take it from me, though, Miss Dallas, that the best man is goin’ to win in this case—and his name is Jake Hines.”

His gaze suddenly fell upon the diamond ring. “Hello!” he exclaimed. “That’s something new, ain’t it? You wasn’t wearin’ that the last time I was here.”

“Perhaps not,” replied the girl coldly; “but really I can’t see that it is——”

“I don’t have to guess twice as to where you got it,” broke in Hines eagerly. “It was that crook, Sheridan, of course. So that’s where the money went to!”

Dallas flushed angrily. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded, in astonishment. “What money? And how dare you refer to Owen Sheridan as a crook?”

Hines grinned broadly. “Because it’s the truth. I’m only callin’ him what everybody else will be callin’ him after the next edition of the evening papers comes out. That reminds me that I came here to tell you a piece of news which ought to interest you. I guess that you ain’t heard yet that your letter-carrier friend Owen Sheridan was arrested two hours ago at post office X Y.”

The girl turned pale. “Arrested!” she gasped. “For what?”

“Robbing the mails,” Hines replied cheerfully. “He swiped a gold watch from a registered package yesterday, and pawned it for forty dollars. They found the pawn ticket in his trunk up at the boarding house.”

Dallas stared at him incredulously.

“You don’t have to take my word for it, little one,” he said. “The evening papers will be on the streets soon, and you can read for yourself.”

“Or, if you can’t wait that long,” he added, with a malicious smile, “why don’t you put on that pretty picture hat of yours and take a run around to Branch X Y? The boys there will tell you all about Sheridan’s arrest. The inspectors nabbed him right in the post office when he returned from the noon delivery.”

Dallas leaned weakly against the tall back of her typewriter chair. She looked as if she were about to faint. “But, anyway, he isn’t—guilty,” she faltered. “He can’t be guilty!”

Hines smiled sardonically. “Oh, can’t he, eh? You won’t say that, my dear girl, when you’ve read all the particulars. The post-office inspectors say they’ve got a mighty strong case against him. They’re tickled to death to have nabbed him. There’s been lots of mail stolen from Branch X Y of late, and they think they’ll be able to put it all up to Sheridan.”

His glance fell again upon the diamond ring which glistened upon the third finger of her left hand. “Say, if I was you I’d take that off,” he said. “A nice girl like you don’t want to wear jewelry that was bought with the proceeds of a larceny. It ain’t decent. Take it off, and I’ll get you a better one. I’ll give you a diamond twice as big—if you’ll promise to wear it on the same finger.”

The girl’s eyes flashed scornfully. “Thank you, but I much prefer to keep this one,” she said. “It wasn’t bought with stolen money. That’s a falsehood. Owen bought it with money he’d been saving for a year. He told me so himself.”

“Oh, indeed!” sneered Hines. “And you mean to say you’re willin’ to believe a fairy story like that? If I’m a judge of diamonds—and I rather guess I am—that there ring must be worth a hundred dollars if it’s worth a penny. Do you suppose for a minute that a first-grade[Pg 42] carrier could save that much out of a six-hundred-a-year salary?

“And, besides,” he continued, “I’ll tell you somethin’ that ought to convince you. There’s several men employed at Station X Y who can testify that yesterday morning Sheridan was going among ’em tryin’ to borrow thirty dollars. Would he have done that if he had a hundred dollars saved up?”

Dallas gazed at him in horror, unable to find words to refute this argument.

“Now, when did Sheridan give you that ring?” Hines inquired.

“Only last night,” she answered simply.

The politician smiled triumphantly. “Well, there you are! It’s as clear as daylight. We can prove that he was tryin’ to borrow money from his comrades yesterday at the post office; yesterday evenin’ he was so flush he could afford to buy a hundred-dollar ring. Where did he get the money? By pawnin’ the watch he stole, of course. What more proof could you want?”

“But forty dollars wouldn’t buy a ring like this,” declared Dallas hopefully. “If the watch was pawned for only that much, where did he get the rest of the money?”

“That’s easy,” retorted Hines promptly. “He may have had seventy when he tried to borrow the thirty. Perhaps he’d managed to save that much, or—what’s more likely—perhaps he stole the balance from other letters. Or it may be that he bought the ring on the installment plan—paid forty down with the money he got on that watch, and agreed to pay the rest later on. If that’s the case, the post-office inspectors will soon find it out when they interview the jeweler who sold him the ring.”

“But the post-office inspectors mustn’t know about this ring,” gasped Dallas apprehensively. “You’re not going to tell them, Mr. Hines?” Her tone was pleading.

“Well,” said Hines hesitatingly. “I really ought to, you know. It’s my duty as a citizen to give the authorities all the help I can. It would be wrong of me to keep it dark. The fact that Sheridan bought that ring only last night will probably be one of the strongest links in the chain of evidence they’ve got against him. It would be enough to convince any jury.”

He paused and looked at her eagerly. “But I ain’t got any wish to make things any harder for the young feller than they are already. He’s a crook, and I ain’t got any use for crooks; but I’d like to see him get off, for I know it would make you feel bad to see him in stripes. I’d do almost anything to prevent you from feelin’ bad, Dallas. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, little girl. You promise me to take off that engagement ring, and wear one that I’ll give you, instead, and I’ll promise to keep mum.

“And not only that,” he went on, “but if Sheridan’s convicted, as he probably will be, even without this bit of evidence, I’ll do my best to save him from goin’ to jail. Us politicians has a lot of influence with judges, you know. I think I can manage to get him off with a suspended sentence. Is it a bargain, Dallas?”

“It is not!” she replied indignantly. “I’ll keep the ring I have. I am still confident that it was bought with honest money. Go ahead and tell the post-office inspectors what you please, Mr. Hines. The chances are that Owen Sheridan has already told them about the ring himself. I feel quite sure that he has no wish to conceal the fact[Pg 43] that he gave it to me. He’s not a thief, and he’ll be able to explain how he got the money.”

Hines shrugged his shoulders. “You’re very foolish,” he said, as he backed toward the door. “Take it from me, you’re doin’ your carrier friend a bad turn. However, the other part of my offer still stands. When Sheridan’s convicted, I’ll use my political pull to get him off with a suspended sentence, provided you’ll agree to shake him and marry me. Think it over, little one. It’s a mighty generous offer. You ought to be glad to marry an honest man instead of a crook.”

He walked up the avenue, whistling gayly, and ten minutes later entered the headquarters of the Samuel J. Coggswell Association, and climbed the stairs to the room marked “Director’s Office—Private.”

He was the only member of the club who was privileged to enter that room without first going through the formality of knocking on the door.

As he now closed the door behind him, turned the key in the lock, and stepped across the soft, thick Persian rug to the mahogany roll-top desk at which sat Samuel J. Coggswell, the latter swung around in his desk chair, and confronted him eagerly.

“Well, Jake?” he said.

“Everything’s went fine, boss,” replied Hines, with a grin, seating himself beside the desk. “Your scheme worked like a clock from start to finish. Sheridan was pinched at half past twelve, and is in the jug at this minute.”

Boss Coggswell’s face lighted up. “Good!” he said. “That is, I mean to say: What a pity that one so young should turn out to be such a bad egg! To think of a nice-looking, clean-cut young fellow like that having to go to jail almost makes me weep, Jake—almost makes me weep.”

There wasn’t a ghost of a smile upon the district leader’s face as he uttered these words. On the contrary, his expression was so sad, so virtuous, that Hines might have believed that his master actually meant what he said if he hadn’t known what he did, and if he hadn’t noticed that all the time the boss was talking his ears were wiggling rapidly—a sure sign that Old Nick was at work inside that cunning brain.

“Let this be a lesson to you, Jake,” Coggswell went on. “Let this be a warning to you, my boy—for you, too, are very young—never to do anything dishonest.”

“Or never get gay with Boss Coggswell,” chuckled Hines, looking at his chief admiringly. “You’re a wonder!”

“And how does the young man take it?” inquired Coggswell, after a long pause.

“Very calmly so far,” replied Hines. “He can’t believe that he’s in any danger of being sent away. Says it’s a frame-up, and that he won’t have any trouble in proving his innocence.”

“Poor, misguided youth!” murmured the boss.

“He’s got ex-Judge Lawrence to defend him,” Hines went on. “As soon as the judge heard that he was under arrest, he went to police headquarters and offered to take the case for nothing.”

“And what does the judge think?” inquired Coggswell, somewhat anxiously, for he knew that Mr. Sugden Lawrence, ex-justice of the supreme court, was one of the most able lawyers in the country.

Hines chuckled. “I got it from a friend at headquarters that the judge, havin’ heard all the evidence, seems[Pg 44] to think that he’s goin’ to have a pretty hard time provin’ his client’s innocence.”

A relieved smile came to Samuel J. Coggswell’s face. “The judge is a smart man,” he said. “I agree with him.”

CHAPTER X.

A TANGLED SKEIN.

The lawyer’s face grew very grave. “I am in hopes that young Sheridan’s personality will impress the jury as favorably as it has impressed us; and, of course, I am going to do all I can to combat the sinister influences which I have reason to believe are back of his arrest; but,[Pg 45] to be frank with you, Miss Worthington, I must admit that they have built up a startlingly strong case against him.”

The girl winced. “A strong case!” she repeated, in a tone of dismay.

“Yes. You see, they found the pawn ticket for the watch in his possession. The post-office inspectors who went to search his room are ready to swear that when they opened his trunk, which was locked, they found the pawn ticket inside.”

“But Owen didn’t pawn the watch,” declared the girl confidently. “Surely the pawnbroker——”

“The pawnbroker’s clerk has identified Sheridan as the letter carrier who came into the pawnshop in full uniform at three-thirty yesterday and pledged a gold watch for forty dollars,” said the lawyer, with a wry smile. “The watch has been identified by its owner as the one which was in the registered package.”

A cry of startled surprise escaped from Dallas. “The pawnbroker’s clerk must be mistaken,” she gasped.

“I agree with you,” said Judge Lawrence, “but at the same time he picked Sheridan out of a group of twenty other letter carriers without a second’s hesitation. That is bound to have great weight with a jury.”

The girl nodded in mournful assent, “Yes, I can see that. And what does Owen say, Mr. Lawrence? What explanation does he offer?”

“He denied that he was in a pawnshop at all yesterday.”

Dallas looked relieved. “Then I believe him. I am sure that pawnbroker’s clerk is lying, and so are those post-office inspectors. They are not telling the truth when they say they found the pawn ticket in Owen’s trunk. They must have put it there themselves in order to make a case against him.”

The lawyer shook his head. “I am sorry to say that I cannot entirely agree with you there, Miss Worthington. I think it quite likely that the pawnshop clerk is lying, as you say. I have already discovered that he is a friend of Jake Hines, a young man identified with Samuel J. Coggswell, who, I have reason to suspect, is behind this prosecution, or rather persecution, of your young friend.

“But as for the post-office inspectors,” he went on, “I believe they are telling the truth. I have known both of them personally for several years. They are square, honest, fearless men. Not even a politician as influential as Boss Coggswell could persuade them to do anything crooked. I am thoroughly convinced as to that. If they say they found the pawn ticket in Sheridan’s trunk, I am quite sure that such was the case.”

“Then how did it get there?” demanded Dallas. “You say you believe in Owen’s innocence.”

“Somebody else put it there before the inspectors visited the house—somebody who is in this shameful conspiracy to railroad our unfortunate young friend to jail,” declared the lawyer grimly. “And I believe I know already who that somebody was.”

“You do!” exclaimed the girl eagerly.

“Yes. As I presume you are aware, Miss Worthington, Sheridan is not the only letter carrier who occupies a room at Mrs. O’Brien’s boarding house. A young man named Smithers, also employed at Branch X Y, lives at the same address. He has the bedroom next to Owen’s. He is a member of the Samuel J. Coggswell Association,[Pg 46] and a close friend of Jake Hines, Coggswell’s confidential man.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Dallas breathlessly. “Then, of course, it was he who put the ticket in Owen’s trunk. He could easily have entered the room when Owen wasn’t there, and slipped the piece of pasteboard through a crack without opening the trunk at all.”

“Yes,” agreed the lawyer; “doubtless that is how the thing was done.”

He leaned back in his chair, and gazed up at the ceiling meditatively. “The whole wretched plot is perfectly clear to me,” he said. “I can see every step those rascals took. First they got a man to send that registered package from a downtown post office—a liquor dealer named Warren. I met him this afternoon, and one look at the fellow served to convince me that he is crooked. The box was empty, of course, when he sent it; there was no watch inside. The package was addressed to a saloon keeper on Sheridan’s route, and they timed the mailing of it so to make sure that it would arrive at Branch X Y during our friend’s tour.

“Then, at half past three,” he continued, “while Sheridan was on his way to deliver the package, one of Coggswell’s emissaries—probably Jake Hines—went to pawnshop on the letter carrier’s route, and pledged a watch—the watch which the perjurer, Warren, swears was in the registered package when he mailed it. The pawn ticket is next handed to Carrier Smithers, who is instructed to put it into Sheridan’s trunk, so that it will be there when the post-office inspectors come to search the room.”

“But why, if the inspectors are as honest as you say,” demanded Dallas, “should they so quickly have suspected Owen? Why should they have gone straight to his room and opened his trunk? Doesn’t that look significant?”

“A very sensible question, Miss Worthington. At first blush it does look significant, I must admit. But I have interrogated my friends, the inspectors, on that very point, and their explanation is satisfactory. They tell me that the reason they were so quick to suspect my client was because they learned that on that same day he had been trying unsuccessfully to borrow money from his friends at Branch X Y. Naturally that caused them to give him immediate attention.”

“And what does Owen say about this story that he was trying to borrow money?” inquired the girl anxiously. “Does he deny it?”

“No; on the contrary, he admits it,” replied Judge Lawrence, with a frown. “He was quite frank about the matter with the inspectors. He told them that he had a chance to buy a diamond ring at a great bargain yesterday. The ring was worth a hundred and twenty dollars, and its owner was willing to sell it for ninety. Owen had sixty dollars saved up, and tried to borrow the needed thirty from his fellow carriers. That was yesterday morning.”

“And he bought the ring last night,” sighed Dallas. “Where did he get the money? Hasn’t he explained?”

“Yes. He says that yesterday afternoon, when he had given up all hope of being able to raise the cash for the ring, he unexpectedly encountered a prosperous friend, a Boston man named Cowan, whom he had not seen for several years. Owen declares that Cowan loaned him the thirty dollars.”

“And he’s telling the truth, of course,” said Dallas.[Pg 47] “Surely it ought to be easy to prove that, Judge Lawrence. All we have to do is to get this Mr. Cowan to corroborate Owen’s statement.”

The lawyer smiled sadly. “That is where fate has dealt our young friend a nasty blow. Sheridan is a most unlucky fellow. It ought to be easy, as you say, to get this man Cowan to corroborate his statement—but it isn’t.”

“Why not?” demanded the girl. “You don’t mean to say that he denies it?”

“Not quite as bad as that,” replied the judge, “but almost. Fifteen minutes ago, Miss Worthington, I telephoned to this man’s hotel—Owen told me where he was stopping. The clerk informed me over the wire that Mr. Cowan died this morning of heart disease. My client’s statement cannot be corroborated. Fate seems to be on the side of Samuel J. Coggswell and his rascally crew.”

CHAPTER XI.

AN OFFER DECLINED.

Hines stepped into Boss Coggswell’s private office at[Pg 48] the clubhouse a few minutes later, and told his chief about the meeting.

“That fellow looks like a ghost, governor,” he declared. “He’s scared stiff. I almost think that if he had the price of a steamship ticket he’d skip his bail and beat it.”

Boss Coggswell waxed thoughtful at this remark. “Do you know, Jake, that isn’t at all a bad idea,” he said. “I refer to the suggestion you just made about the young man skipping his bail. If I thought that he could really be persuaded to do that I almost think I’d prefer to have things turn out that way. I have no desire to see the fellow sent to prison. If he became a fugitive from justice, it would suit our purpose just as well, it seems to me. All we want is to have him so utterly discredited that he’ll be unable to do us any injury.”

Coggswell had already used his political influence to have the trials of Carriers Greene and Tom Hovey for tampering with Judge Lawrence’s mail put down at the bottom of the court calendar. His object in doing this, of course, was to have Owen Sheridan’s case disposed of before these other cases came up for trial, so that the young man would be unable to implicate him—Coggswell—by telling what he knew about the conspiracy to pry into the ex-judge’s private correspondence.

“Yes,” the boss went on, his ears wiggling rapidly as he spoke, “I almost think I’d prefer to have young Sheridan run away. It almost breaks my heart to think of a nice young man like him having to go to jail. He has tried to injure me, ’tis true, but I hope I am not vindictive, Jake—I certainly hope I am not vindictive. If I thought that it was only the lack of the price of a steamship ticket which prevented him from leaving the United States, I think I’d loan him the money, Jake—yes, indeed!”

Hines pondered over this. He had heard of fugitives from justice sending for their sweethearts to join them in some remote portion of the globe where there was no extradition treaty with the United States government. But Dallas Worthington did not impress him as being the kind of girl who would respond to such an invitation. On the contrary, she probably would accept the fact of the letter carrier’s flight as conclusive proof of his guilt.

If Sheridan stood trial, was convicted, and sentenced to jail, the girl, believing that he had fallen an innocent victim to circumstantial evidence, might still remain loyal to him; but if Sheridan ran away, he would no doubt by such a craven act lose the love of Dallas forever. Thus thought Jake Hines, and consequently he decided that Boss Coggswell’s plan was a good one.

“I think you’re right, boss,” he said. “It would be a mighty good idea for us to finance a little trip abroad for that feller.”

“But it must be done very carefully, Jake,” said Coggswell. “Remember, we have Judge Lawrence to deal with—a mighty shrewd lawyer. If he managed to implicate me in this young man’s flight, it would place me in a very painful position. It is essential that I remain an anonymous philanthropist, Jake.”

“I’ll look out for that, boss,” Hines assured him. “I’ll work it so that it can’t possibly be brought home to you. I know a way.”

Half an hour later Hines stepped into the real-estate office of Walter K. Sammis. Dallas Worthington looked[Pg 49] up from her typewriter, and frowned her disapproval of her visitor.

“If you don’t leave here immediately,” she began indignantly, “I’ll call Mr. Sammis——”

“Hold on there, little one!” he interrupted blandly. “I know I ain’t welcome here, but don’t go up in the air before you hear what I got to say. If you don’t let me get it off my chest, you’ll be sorry. I’ve come to tell you something about that letter-carrier friend of yours—something that’ll help him.”

The girl hesitated. “Well, hurry up and say it,” she said coldly. “I’ll listen.”

“I met Sheridan on the street a little while ago,” said Hines, “and he looked so bad that, honest, I couldn’t help feelin’ sorry for him.”

“He doesn’t need your pity,” declared Dallas scornfully.

“Maybe not,” said Hines; “but at the same time he’s got it. It almost made my heart bleed to see him lookin’ like that, and I made up my mind that I’d like to do something for him.”

The girl received this declaration with an incredulous laugh; but, unheeding this, her visitor went on: “I’ve got a little money saved, girlie—a couple of thousand dollars that I don’t need just now. If you think your carrier friend could use it, he’s very welcome to it.”

Dallas looked at him in great astonishment. This generous offer quite took her breath away. Her tone was a little less hostile as she said:

“Why, that’s very kind of you, Mr. Hines; but I don’t think Owen—Mr. Sheridan is in need of money.”

“I reckon he is,” replied Jake, with a grin. “I know very well that he ain’t got a dollar to his name. I don’t like the feller—he’s a crook, and I ain’t got any use for crooks—but at the same time, as I say, I feel sorry for him. And, besides, he’s a friend of yours, and any friend of yours, little one, can command Jake Hines’ bank roll. So you tell him the next time you see him that if he can use a couple of thousand he’s welcome to it.”

With these words he hurried out of the office, satisfied that he had succeeded in his mission.

“It’s sure to work,” he said to himself as he walked back to the club. “From the look on that guy’s face, I’m sure that it’s only the lack of funds which prevents him from beatin’ it. As soon as he learns that there’s a chance for him to get hold of enough dough to make a safe get-away he’ll grab at it quick.”

When Dallas saw Owen a little later she repeated to him what Hines had said, and the young man, greatly mystified, went to report the incident to his friend and counselor, Judge Lawrence.

“What on earth does it mean, judge?” he inquired. “What is their game in offering me money?”

The lawyer laughed. “It is very clear what their game is, my boy. They are in hopes that you are in such terror of the coming trial that you can be tempted to seek safety in flight. The two thousand dollars is intended to pay your expenses.”

Owen frowned; then his face suddenly lighted up. “Say, judge, I’ve got another idea. Couldn’t we make great capital out of this offer? What’s the matter with my accepting this money from Hines, in the presence of concealed witnesses, then exposing the whole game? The very fact that they are trying to induce me to jump my[Pg 50] bail ought to be enough to prove that they are behind this conspiracy.”

Judge Lawrence smiled. “I was thinking of that, but it wouldn’t work. Those rascals are too smart to lay themselves open to a trap of that sort. That is why Hines went to Miss Worthington instead of making that offer direct to you.

“You see,” he went on, “while we can readily guess their motive, they haven’t said anything that would incriminate them. Hines simply offered to lend you some money, which might be taken as a philanthropic and disinterested act on his part. He did not suggest that the money be used to defray the expenses of your flight. He would claim that he thought you might be able to use it to defray the expense of your defense.

“And, besides, you can rest assured that if you agreed to accept the money, Hines wouldn’t be so careless as to make out the check to you. He would make it out to Miss Worthington. There’s nothing criminal in a man lending or giving a couple of thousand dollars to a young lady whose friendship he ardently seeks. That’s the answer which they would make to an attempt on our part to make capital out of the incident.”

Sheridan realized the logic of this, and Hines’ offer was turned down flat.

Boss Coggswell was greatly disappointed when his lieutenant reported to him that the letter carrier had refused to avail himself of this opportunity to seek safety in flight.

“It is too bad,” he sighed. “I would have preferred to let this unfortunate young man down easy. He has chosen unwisely. A sojourn abroad is much more pleasant than several years behind bars. But since he refuses to accept my aid,” he went on, those expressive ears of his wagging rapidly, “I’m afraid he’ll have to go to jail. Yes, Jake, as much as it pains me to have to say it, I am quite certain now that he’ll have to go to jail.”

CHAPTER XII.

ON THE STAND.

Hines grinned again, and looked at his chief admiringly. “All right, boss,” he said. “You wait here, and[Pg 51] I’ll bring you the news as soon as the jury brings in a verdict.”

Hines had not the slightest doubt as to what that verdict was going to be. He felt confident that the evidence against Sheridan was so crushingly conclusive that the jury wouldn’t hesitate more than three minutes before deciding that he was guilty.

If he had any apprehensions on the subject they would have been dispelled by what he had seen that morning. He had encountered Owen on the street, walking arm in arm with Judge Lawrence, and if ever two men looked worried, the accused carrier and his counsel did.

“Poor gink!” said Mr. Hines to himself. “I guess he’s sorry by this time that he didn’t take that money and beat it while he had the chance. Wonder how he’ll look in a suit of stripes and with his hair close cropped.”

There was a broad grin upon his face as he entered the courtroom and seated himself on one of the rear benches. Catching the presiding judge’s eye leveled sternly upon him, and suddenly realizing that his levity was hardly decorous, he hurriedly assumed a serious mien.

He found it difficult to refrain from chuckling as the case progressed, however, for as witness after witness took the stand to testify against Sheridan, and the strong chain of circumstantial evidence was presented link by link to the jury, the prisoner’s counsel, eminent lawyer though he was, seemed to become more and more baffled and depressed.

Ex-Judge Lawrence was famed for his skill as a cross-examiner. This was the only point on which Coggswell and Hines had been apprehensive. They feared that there was a possibility of some of the witnesses going to pieces under the vigorous, searching questioning of counsel for the defense.

But, to Hines’ great relief, the ex-judge, in this case, gave no evidence of being an expert at the art of cross-examination. He did not succeed in “rattling” a single witness; in fact, he handled them all so mildly and apparently with so little spirit that Hines muttered to himself contemptuously:

“Huh! Him a great lawyer! Guess he’s been very much overrated. Why, I know a whole lot of ordinary police-court counselors that could give him cards and spades.”

William Warren, wholesale liquor dealer, was the first witness to take the stand. He testified that he had sent his good friend Michael Harrington, a saloon keeper, a gold watch by registered mail. He had placed the watch in the package in the presence of two witnesses, who had also been with him when he handed in the package at the registry window of a downtown post office.

Judge Lawrence asked this witness but four questions in cross-examination:

“Are you acquainted with Samuel J. Coggswell, Mr. Warren?”

“I never had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman.”

“Are you acquainted with a young man named Jake Hines—a prominent member of the Samuel J. Coggswell Association? Before answering this question, Mr. Warren, let me remind you that you are under oath.”

“It ain’t necessary to remind me of no such thing,” retorted the witness indignantly. “Yes, I know Mr. Hines. I am proud to say that he is a good friend of mine.” He glanced across at the spectators’ benches, and Jake smiled at him an acknowledgment of this compliment.[Pg 52]

They had expected this question, knowing that it was the accused carrier’s hope to be able to make the jury believe that he was the victim of a conspiracy. They had decided that Warren should tell the truth, and admit that he knew Hines. To have denied the fact would have been dangerous. There was no telling that the defense did not have witnesses at hand ready to take the stand and swear that they knew of the friendship.

“Yes, I know Jake Hines,” the witness repeated, almost belligerently; “but that don’t——”

“Did you meet him, or in any way have communication with him, on the day you sent the registered package?” interrupted counsel for the defense.

“Yes,” replied the witness unhesitatingly. “Mr. Hines came to my office that day. He was in the neighborhood, and he dropped in to make a social call.”

This question, too, had been expected. Warren had made up his mind to answer it truthfully, for it was quite possible that Hines had been seen entering his office.

“And at that meeting between Hines and yourself, Mr. Warren,” counsel for the defense went on, “did either of you say anything about this watch which you were going to send to Harrington?”

“Not a word,” emphatically replied the witness, who was prepared for this question also. “Not a single word, sir. We never spoke about the watch at all. Hines didn’t know that I was going to send it.”

As the conversation which had taken place that day between Hines and himself had been behind a closed door, with no chance of anybody having overheard them, Warren felt that he was quite safe in making this denial.

“That’s all,” said the cross-examiner, with an audible sigh, and the witness, as he stepped down, exchanged a triumphant glance with Jake Hines.

The next witnesses were the men who had been in Warren’s office when he placed the watch in the package, and who had accompanied him to the post office and seen the package handed in at the registry window. Both of them were reputable business men, and Owen’s lawyer made no attempt to impeach their testimony. In cross-examination he let each of them off with but a single question, which was the same in each case:

“On the way to the post office, where did Mr. Warren carry the package in which you had seen him place the watch?”

“In the left-hand pocket of his coat,” the two witnesses both answered.

Michael Harrington, the saloon keeper, testified that the package contained no watch when he opened it; which statement was corroborated by several witnesses who had been present in the saloon when the accused postman brought in the registered package.

Harrington made a good impression on the stand. He denied that he knew Jake Hines, except by reputation, and volunteered the information that he had “no use for Sam Coggswell, or any of his bunch,” being himself of the opposite political party. Hines could not help grinning at Judge Lawrence’s evident discomfiture.

The pawnbroker’s clerk, an exceedingly nervous young man, who took the stand and swore that Owen had pledged the watch for forty dollars, was cross-examined at greater length than any of the previous witnesses.

Counsel for the defense, however, could not shake his testimony. He admitted that he was acquainted with[Pg 53] Jake Hines, but denied that the latter had been in the pawnshop that day, or had held any conversation with him regarding the watch. Another audible sigh came from Judge Lawrence as this witness left the stand.

The two post-office inspectors testified to having found the pawn ticket in Owen’s trunk, and a half dozen of the employees of the Branch X Y took the stand and reluctantly stated that Carrier Sheridan had tried to borrow thirty dollars from them that day.

Owen’s counsel did not attempt to cross-examine any of these witnesses. As the last of them left the stand and the prosecutor announced that this closed the government’s case, Jake Hines leaned back in his seat and smiled expansively.

“Let ’em beat that if they can,” he muttered confidently. “I can see from the looks of the jury that they’ve made up their minds already.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

HE WANTED TO KNOW.

“Please, sor,” said Pat, “my blanket is too long at the top and too short at the bottom, and sure, I even cut a bit off the top and sewed it onto the bottom, but, faith it’s just the same as iver it was. I can’t undershtand it at all—at all.[Pg 54]”

[Pg 55]

THE NEWS OF ALL NATIONS.

A Kangaroo Cat.

Mrs. Pussy Cat, who lives at the home of Thomas Evans, in Newport, Ky., is greatly worried over one of her offspring. No other member of Mrs. Cat’s numerous family is like the newcomer. This kitten has only two feet and walks or hops about like a kangaroo. There are only tufts of fur where the front legs ought to be. In hopping about, the kitten balances itself with its tail, which it uses as a sort of rudder.

Gets Fifty-dollar Tip for a Shave.

Jack O’Reilly, barber in West Third Street, Los Angeles, Cal., had the surprise of his life a few days ago. A prosperous-looking man walked into the shop. When the job was done, the patron unlimbered a wad of bills, stripped off a fifty-dollar yellowback, and said: “Things have come my way handsomely. Here’s a bit of a tip.”

Leaving O’Reilly stupefied with astonishment, the man walked out. He was a prosperous Los Angeles stock broker, O’Reilly said.

Asks $500 for Loss of Faded Army Uniform.

On the loss of a faded blue army uniform, a relic of the Civil War, Mrs. Mary Heintzelman, seventy-three years old, of Minneapolis, Minn., bases a claim for five hundred dollars against Hennepin County, which she has already filed.

Five years ago Mrs. Heintzelman went to the Hennepin County poor farm. Her only possessions were packed in an old-fashioned trunk. In the top tray lay the old uniform and a packet of soldier’s letters, written on the heavy blue stationery used in war times. They were the only links that bound the old woman’s life to the highest happiness her life had known.

The uniform, more than half a century ago, had been worn to the war by George Heintzelman of the Forty-seventh Pennsylvania infantry. They had been betrothed, she and the young soldier, when he marched away to war. The memories of those days when he and she were young have been the only comforts in the old woman’s life.

Three years later Heintzelman came back, badly wounded. He recovered, but a bullet through his lung had impaired his health. They were married, and moved West. The husband’s health did not improve. A few years later he died.

Mrs. Heintzelman stored the old uniform and the letters in the trunk and set about to make her own way in the world. The years that followed were lonely and full of hard work and trouble. The treasures in the trunk were the only solaces in the woman’s life.

Finally, too old to work longer, she went to the home. Every spring, on the anniversary of the day that her lover had marched away, Mrs. Heintzelman would take out the old uniform and hang it on the line to air. Softly she would caress the faded garment and read over the old letters, and her sadness and loneliness would be lost in the flood of pleasant memories that floated back from her youth.[Pg 56]

A week ago, as the old uniform hung upon the line, a cinder descended from a smokestack. It smoldered for a moment in the garment, flared up, and Mrs. Heintzelman’s last treasure was gone forever.

Blasted Romance of Poor Aunt Emily.

When board of health inspectors of Indianapolis, Ind., went to the home of Emily Smith, a recluse, to remove piles of dust-covered books and papers which literally filled her little house, they uncovered a hidden fortune and unearthed a story of a blasted romance.

Fifty years ago the woman was a belle in the English settlement in New York City and was preparing to be married, when the man who had won her was stricken with fever and died.

She moved to Indianapolis twenty-five years ago, and, residing in a slum district, has been an object of charity for many years. About eight thousand dollars was found secreted in the house, which was cleaned only after the indignant woman had shrieked in protest.

The following is the supposed pauper’s riches: Currency, $846.97; certified check, $200; bank deposits, $1,800; mortgages, $5,000, and insurance papers of undetermined value.

“There is nothin’ there you’d want to see, and, besides, it would kill Aunt Emily if you disturbed her papers,” a negress told the officers.

“This is my home; it’s none of your business what I have beneath these papers!” Miss Smith shouted, as the officers started to move the newspapers and pamphlets.

Fighting Man’s Square Meal.

Charles Weber, a pugilist from New York, while in a cell in Philadelphia, Pa., on a charge of forgery, having been brought here from Moyamensing Prison, told Turnkey Gordon, of the Thompson Street police station, that he hadn’t eaten for a week; that he was as hungry as a polar bear, and wouldn’t Gordon please get one dollar from his money in the sergeant’s desk and take his order for a square meal? Gordon did.

Ten minutes later Gordon faced the house sergeant with a wry face. “What do you think of that fightin’ guy?” he asked. “’E said ez ’ow ’e wanted a square meal, and sent me out fer a dollar’s worth of cream puffs, and blow me if ’e didn’t eat every bloomin’ one of ’em.”

Answers the Call of Cupid.

After having answered nearly four million calls, Miss Theresa Cox, chief telephone operator at the Minnesota State House, has fallen victim of Cupid, and given up her job. For ten years, ever since the capitol was completed, Miss Cox has guarded the switchboard day in and day out, the personification of efficiency and amiability, and long years ago gained the reputation of being a model telephone girl.

On ordinary days she made between one thousand and twelve hundred wire connections. When the legislature was in session, or in other times of stress, the demands[Pg 57] on her switchboard were greatly increased, and she would be called over the lines sixteen hundred times or more.

No one ever applied for her job, and she probably was the only one in the capitol whose job was not in danger. The uncertainties of political positions had no fear for her, for no governor ever could have thought of removing Miss Cox. There would have been a storm of protest akin to a riot.

But what governors could not do, Henry Jopling accomplished. He invited Miss Cox to marry him, and Dan Cupid advised her to surrender.

“I’m awfully sorry to leave here,” she said to a gathering of State House officials and employees who gave her a wedding “shower,” and her voice shook a little. “You have all been so kind to me.”

Old-time Circus Man’s Will.

William Washington Cole, an old-time circus owner, at one time of Cole Brothers and later a part owner in the Barnum & Bailey show, left an estate valued at five million dollars, according to his will filed with Surrogate Daniel Nobel in Queens County.

Mr. Cole died in Whitestone, L. I., March 10th. He left a widow, but no children, brothers, or sisters. Distant relatives live in England and in Scotland.

He left to his widow, Mrs. Margaret Cole, two hundred thousand dollars and two-eighths of the residue after the bequests are paid. Mrs. Cole is also to receive certain specific bequests. Sixty-five persons receive bequests and annuities aggregating about five hundred thousand dollars. The will also makes bequests to churches and institutions to the extent of one hundred thousand dollars.

Transcontinental Pedestrians.

In competition with Edward Payson Weston, the veteran walker, and to win a fifteen-hundred-dollar prize offered by the Panama-Pacific Exposition, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Jackley are walking across the country, with the requirement that they “make” the capital of each of the forty-eight States within three years. They left San Francisco September 12, 1912, and seem sure of winning, as they are now in the East, and have four months to reach Augusta, Maine. They are forbidden to ride in any way, and may obtain money only by selling pictures of themselves.

Gets $7,000,000 from Uncle.

Using the name of Albert Brown nearly cost Albert James Bourne, a transient farm hand, a fortune of seven million dollars, left him by an uncle who died several months ago in Melbourne, Australia.

After a search through seven States, Bourne was located on a farm near Lincoln, Neb., by private detectives who had been hired to search for him. It was discovered he had been in a hospital in St. Joseph, Mo.

The property left him consists of 339,000 acres of free land, 25,000 sheep, 400 horses, hundreds of cattle, and 50,000 pounds sterling. Bourne is Irish, and fifty years old.

Sues Farmers, but Vanishes.

Two years after filing suit against wealthy Howell County farmers of the South Fork, Mo., neighborhood, whom he accused of slanderous statements concerning himself, the whereabouts of Wiley C. Goldsby, the plaintiff, are unknown, and caused the dismissal of the suit, which[Pg 58] had been taken to Ozark County on a change of venue. Goldsby was last seen when he left for the Kansas wheat fields.

After Goldsby had been in charge of the ranch house of Doctor R. A. Sparks for some time, stories were circulated in the neighborhood that he was a woman masquerading in male attire. It was said he often wore a kimono when preparing breakfast for the ranch hands, and devoted his spare time to crocheting and other fancywork. It was these statements that Goldsby made the basis of a suit for heavy damages.

University Student at Ten.

Helen Bradford, of Ottumwa, Iowa, ten years old, has made arrangements to enter the University of Iowa in September.

She was graduated from high school, and is heralded as one of the best mathematicians among grade students of the State. She will be the youngest girl to attend Iowa in more than ten years.

Cupid Tricks Truant “Cops.”

Cupid has had Minneapolis, Minn., school-attendance officers dodging around corners in pursuit of children under sixteen who were not attending school, only to have them flash a marriage license. This has happened several times during the present school year, and school-attendance officers are getting vexed at Cupid.

The law is that children must attend school until they are sixteen, unless they have completed the elementary-school course. However, attendance officers have given up the chase after the truants when it has been proved they have been married.

Teressa Amundson, Alida Sandeen, Ruth Rosendahl, Lillian Jordan, Agnes Gratz, and Alice Hanson are the girls who have abruptly ended their education by the marriage route and had attendance officers guessing.

Fight Lake of Burning Oil.

Recently, citizens of Oilton, Okla., and neighboring towns witnessed the most extensive oil fire that has ever occurred on the river since the field opened. It was one mile northeast of the town, on the Cimarron River, where the oil had formed a lake in the bend of the stream. It burned for hours, sending up a column of smoke and flame that was noticeable from towns twenty miles away.

William Murdoch, traffic manager of the Oil Belt Terminal Railroad, headed a squad of men who prevented a spread of flames, which would have been disastrous to the big railroad bridge.

He Helped to Found Republic of Texas.

J. W. Darlington, ninety-four years old, of Austin, Tex., is the only person now living who heard the sounds of the guns at the battle of San Jacinto, seventy-nine years ago.

Mr. Darlington was one of the band of Texans who met and defeated the Mexicans under Santa Anna, but was prevented from fighting in the battle itself by being detailed to look after the supply train.

Mr. Darlington came from Virginia to Austin in 1839, the year that Austin was laid off as a town, and the first capitol was built. He married Miss Eleanor J. Love in 1843, and has four daughters and one son living. He is an honorary member of the Daughters of the Republic,[Pg 59] and still takes an interest in affairs of the State. His chief delight seems to be recalling his life in Texas in the early forties.

In the battle of Plum Creek, in 1840, Mr. Darlington, at the head of about two hundred citizens, whipped the Comanche Indians so that they gave the early settlers no more trouble. He was also engaged in a battle at Plum Creek in 1842.

Mr. Darlington helped to plane the logs for the first capitol during Lamar’s administration, and also to build the fort around the capitol, to protect it from the Indians on one side and the Mexicans on the other. The capitol was then used not only for the sessions of Congress, but as a church, school, opera house, dance hall—in fact, for all public gatherings.

Rounded “The Horn.”

Vanburen Crompton, of Allen Dale, Ill., is one of the few men living who went to the California gold fields by way of “the Horn.” Most of the emigrants went overland by wagon, enduring many hardships. Mr. Crompton, then a young man, with two companions chose the water route. Taking a boat at New Orleans, they followed along the Mexican and South American coast, rounding Cape Horn, and then up the western coast, to San Francisco. The ships in that day were slow, and it required many weeks to make the journey. Thousands of men were called westward by the lure of gold, but only a comparatively small number found riches. Mr. Crompton was among the unlucky ones, and returned home after six years. He now lives on the farm on which he was born, and in one of the first frame houses erected in southern Illinois. In the early days there was a fort near the farm, a refuge from the Indians.

Still Another “Pick” to Feed.

Former President Roosevelt’s fear of race suicide would have received a rude shock had the colonel been in the front office at the Young Men’s Christian Association in Nashville, Tenn., when “Bee,” a crippled porter, and quite a fixture at the building, asked for a day off.

“What in the world do you want with a day off, Bee?” asked one of the secretaries to whom this request, coming from Bee, was something unusual.

“Well, suh,” said the old negro exultantly, “Ah have a visitor at mah house dis mawnin’. It’s de nineteenth, suh. Ah shore has a hard time to sport ’em, suh. Eatin’s am high and money am mighty procrastinatin’.”

Bee’s request was granted.

“Up, You Dead!” Cry Saves the Trench.

A French lieutenant, now lying wounded in a Paris hospital, has given this account of the thrilling action in which he received his injury:

“We were fortifying a trench which we had taken. Behind a barrier of sacks which blocked one end of it, two sentinels kept careful watch. We could work in all security.

“Suddenly an avalanche of bombs tumbled down on our heads. Before we could recover, ten of our men were stretched on the ground, dead or wounded, pell-mell.

“I opened my mouth to urge them on again, when a stone from the parapet, torn out by a projectile, hit me on the head. I fell unconscious. My stupor lasted a second[Pg 60] only. A splinter of shell tore my left hand, and the pain brought me to.

“As I opened my eyes, weakened, my mind benumbed, I saw the ‘boches’ jump over the barrier of sacks and invade the trench. There were about twenty. They had no guns, but they carried in front of them a sort of wicker basket filled with bombs.

“I looked to the left. Our men had gone, the trench was empty. The boches advanced; a few more steps and they were on me.

“Just then one of my men, lying on the ground, a wound on his forehead, a wound on his chin, blood streaming from his face, dragged himself to a sitting position, seized a sack of grenades near him, and cried out: ‘Up, you dead!’

“He pulled himself to his knees, dived into the sack, and flung the grenades at the group of assailants.

“In answer to his cry, three more wounded men dragged themselves up. Two of them, who had broken legs, took guns, and, opening the magazines, started a rapid fire, each shot of which hit home. The third, whose left arm was inert, seized a bayonet with his right.

“When I picked myself up, having quite recovered my senses, about half the hostile group had been felled, the rest having retreated in disorder.

“All that remained was a huge, perspiring subofficer, congested with rage, who, leaning against the barrier, protected by the iron shield, continued most courageously, I must say, to fire his revolver in our direction.

“The man who was first to organize the defense, who had cried, ‘Up, you dead!’ received a bullet straight in the jaw. He collapsed.

“Suddenly the soldier with the bayonet, who for some minutes had been crawling from corpse to corpse, stopped about four feet from the barrier, drew himself up, dodged two bullets fired at him, and plunged his bayonet into the German’s throat.

“The position was saved. The wounded soldier’s sublime appeal had resuscitated the ‘dead.’”

Alleged Dead Man Denies the Report.

Once upon a time the city editor of a newspaper printed a story about a man being dead who wasn’t dead.

Much to his consternation, the man arose the next morning and read a lurid account of his death. He pinched himself to see if he were dead or alive, and, coming to the conclusion that he was very much alive, after looking at a black-and-blue mark where his fingers had closed together upon his tender flesh, he sought the city editor.

“I read in the morning paper that I was dead,” he remarked to the newspaper man at the desk.

“Well,” laconically responded the city editor, “what about it?”

“I am here as a living witness to testify that I am not dead,” responded the man who was printed dead, “and that the reports of my death are very much exaggerated.”

“I want you to understand here and now that if this newspaper says you are dead, you are dead,” retorted the city editor.

“But don’t you see that I’m very much alive?” queried the astonished dead man.

“All right,” replied the city editor, “we’ll put you in the birth column to-morrow morning.”

Well, there is a parallel case to this in Montana, as is[Pg 61] shown in an opinion by the State supreme court, written by Associate Justice Sanner.

Frank Lemmer, a taxidermist, was the object of an obituary notice in the Great Falls Tribune, W. M. Bole’s newspaper. The notice had him dead, and dead to rights, because of an overdose of morphine, administered upon a prescription by a physician, but evidently the Tribune made the mistake of not putting Mr. Lemmer in the birth column the next morning, although it explained later that Lemmer had arisen from the dead, with due apologies to the supposed dead man.

Now, Lemmer objected to being called a “dead one,” and promptly instituted suit against the Tribune, claiming that he was not dead, and that his business as a taxidermist had been injured by the alleged malicious publication that he was dead.

Naturally, the defendants demurred both generally and specifically, which demurrer was sustained by the Cascade District Court. The plaintiff thereupon declined to plead further, and suffered judgment of dismissal with costs. Naturally an appeal was taken.

Justice Sanner, Chief Justice Brantly, and Associate Justice Holloway concurring, calls attention to the inference contained in the publication of the alleged death of Lemmer.

“The necessary inferences are,” says the opinion, “that Frank Lemmer died; that he died from an overdose of morphine; that the morphine was procured on a doctor’s prescription, which prescription was obtained at Lemmer’s instance by a stranger. None of these circumstances, nor all of them, suggest anything disgraceful or criminal.”

The opinion then proceeds to say that it is no disgrace to die, and that one may die without moral turpitude from an overdose of morphine procured by a doctor’s prescription, even though a stranger acted as messenger in the transition.

“Speaking generally,” continues the opinion, “there is no doubt that one may suffer such damages from almost any publication whatever, particularly a publication to the effect that he is dead; but whenever such damages are sought, it is not enough to aver generally that in consequence to the publication the plaintiff has been damaged in his business; the facts showing such damages must be alleged or no cause of action is stated.”

The opinion then proceeds to show that the demurrer to the complaint was properly sustained, and the judgment is affirmed.