"EXCUSE ME, SIR, FOR QUESTIONING YOU."
"Crossing the narrow street in Cahir, referred to at the close of the last chapter, I went in haphazard at the first door, without knocking, and saw a family eating their humble supper. As I walked in I addressed the family at the table thus:
"'Good evening. Pardon my intrusion, and do not disturb yourselves; but by all means finish your supper.'
"'Good evening, sir,' was the reply from the man, whom I will call Maloy. 'We are glad to see you; will you sit by and have pot-luck with us?'
"'No, thank you,' I answered. 'I am an American—and it is my custom when traveling in any country to make unceremonious calls like this, in order to see the people as they really are at home.'
"After supper was over I related to Maloy and his family several stories and incidents concerning the Fenians and their doings in America, which, of course, interested them greatly. When it was fairly dark I arose to go, and Maloy went outside with me. He had previously informed me that he was employed by the government in the civil service. I will not state in what capacity, for, although so many years have elapsed, the true-hearted Irishman may still be earning his bread in the same humble employment, and the knowledge that he assisted one whom he supposed to be a Fenian leader in 1873 might even now cost him dearly. When we were outside the door I said:
"'The fact is, Maloy, I am a Fenian leader, and the police are after me! I have been dodging them for two days, and they are looking for me now in Cahir! I have important papers for prominent Fenians in various parts of Ireland, and it would delay our plans if I am obliged to destroy them. But I fear I must do so at once unless you can help me. I would almost sooner forfeit my life than to lose these papers, and I shall fight to my last breath rather than let them fall into the hands of the police, for it might be the ruin of several good men! My plan is to double back to Clonmel, and I want your assistance to get me out of Cahir!'
"'Oh, sir,' he replied, 'it is too bad you did not let me know a little sooner, for the mail car is gone; it starts at 6 o'clock.'
"Just as he had finished speaking, a car came rumbling past and he exclaimed joyfully:
"'We are in luck! There goes the mail car to the postoffice! Come with me!'
"We hastened through a narrow, dark lane to the gate—the same I had entered from Clonmel—walked through and at a hundred yards beyond waited for the mail car, which soon came along. Maloy being well acquainted with the driver, hailed him, saying that a friend of his wanted a ride to Clonmel.
"After shaking hands warmly with Maloy, I climbed upon the car, and the next instant I was whirling along—into fresh dangers—in that unique vehicle, an Irish jaunting car.
"Arriving near Clonmel I saw a tavern, and ascertaining from the driver that it was near the railway station, I left the car and entered the place, only to find that the best, and, in fact, the sole food to be had for supper was eggs. Having been on the move since dawn, after a sleepless night, and almost without food, I hesitate to divulge how many eggs I disposed of that evening, for the statement might tend to throw distrust on the general veracity of my narrative. Having dried my wet clothes and put myself into a presentable condition, I went to the railway station to take the 11 p.m. train to Dublin. Seating myself on a bench outside, I handed some money to a porter and sent him for a ticket, which he obtained. There were but a few waiting about, so I stepped into the small waiting room and sat down near three other men. The one nearest, whom I at once put down for a local policeman in private clothes, turned and spoke to me. I replied with civility to his questions until finally he said: 'But are you not an American?' I replied to his startling question in such a manner that he appeared satisfied.
"'You must excuse me, sir, for questioning you,' he explained, 'but there has been a great forgery in London, and it is said some of the parties are in Ireland, and I am anxious to get a claim on the £5,000 that is offered for each one of them.'
"I told him that instead of being offended I was greatly pleased to see the zeal he exhibited in the execution of his duties, and expressed the hope that he might be successful in securing at least one of the forgers, which would give him not only the £5,000, but undoubtedly promotion. I got on the train all right, resolving that I would not speak another word of English while in Ireland, and forthwith turned into a Russian, who could speak 'une veree leetel Francais,' confident that I should not be in danger of exposure by encounter with any one who could speak the Russian language. I threw away the ordinary Scotch cap I had been wearing, and put on the Glengarry. When I arrived at the Maryborough junction, the train on the main line from Cork was late, and I walked up and down on the platform, well knowing that the detectives would scrutinize more closely those who appeared to shrink from observation; therefore, I affected the bearing of a Russian prince as nearly as I knew how.
"I got on the train unmolested, and arrived in Dublin at 1 a. m.
"There appeared to be some special watching of those leaving the train, but I passed out unchallenged and took a cab. Not knowing the name of any hotel, I told the driver I would direct the route as we passed along, and he drove away at a great pace. Very soon I noticed another cab following at an equal speed. I had mine turn a corner, but the one behind came thundering after; and though I bade my driver to turn at nearly every corner still I could not shake off my supposed pursuer until, after apparently being followed about two miles, the stern chaser turned off in another direction, much to my relief. We soon approached the Cathedral Hotel, where I alighted about 2 a. m., rang up the porter, and was shown to a room.
"At 7 o'clock in the morning I sent for my bill, left the hotel, went direct to the 'Jew' quarters, and purchased a valise and some second-hand clothes. Noticing the old Jewess' looks of curiosity at seeing one of my appearance making such purchases, I remarked: 'A Fenian friend has got himself into a scrape, and the police are after him; so I am going to get him out of the country, and wish to let him have some things that do not have too new a look.' At hearing those (in Ireland) magic words, 'Fenian,' 'police,' she became all smiles, let me fill the valise with old garments at my own price, and at starting said: 'God bless you! May you have good luck, and get off safe to America!'
"I then went to a more pretentious locality, where I procured a silk hat draped with mourning crape, put the Glengarry in my pocket, and became a Frenchman. At this moment I discovered that I had left in my room at the hotel a large silk neck-wrapper on which were embroidered my initials. I immediately stepped into a shop and left my new purchases, resuming the Scotch cap, and started for the hotel (where I had given no name), to secure the dangerous article left behind. Coming in sight of the hotel, I saw a man stationed opposite, leaning on a cane, who appeared to be watching the house. As I approached nearer he kept his eyes covertly fixed upon me; therefore, instead of entering the hotel, I walked past it and turned the next corner, glancing backward as I did so, and, to my dismay, saw the man following me. I now adopted the same plan of action that succeeded so well at Cork, and in half an hour I had shaken him off and returned to the place where I had left my new silk hat and valise. Donning the hat, with valise in hand, I was soon seated in an Irish jaunting car, on my way to a station about ten miles out on the railway to Belfast.
"Upon reflection I was satisfied that the chambermaid had found the silk wrapper and taken it to the hotel office. There the initials, together with the knowledge of my arrival at so unusual an hour, without baggage, and my early departure, had aroused suspicion, and the police had been notified. At about 11 o'clock I arrived at the station, and going into a store paid my Dublin cabman and called for lunch. About five minutes before the train was due from Dublin I walked into the empty station, presented myself at the ticket office, and said: 'Parlez vous Francais, Monsieur?' and received the reply, 'No.' I then said in a mongrel of French and English that I wished for a ticket to Drogheda—not daring to purchase one through Belfast. Supposing me to be a French gentleman, he was very polite and ordered the porter to take my baggage to the platform. There I found myself the solitary waiting passenger. As the train approached I saw a pair of heads projecting from the carriage windows, eagerly scanning the platform. Two men jumped off, and, hastening to the station master began to talk to him in an excited manner, all the time glancing toward me. As I passed near the group to get on the train, I heard the agent say: 'He is a Frenchman.' No doubt he informed them that I had purchased a ticket to a way station only—a fact that would naturally allay suspicion. At the next stopping place they actually arrested a man, but went no further.
"I afterward ascertained that twelve men were arrested on that and the preceding day, among the number being a fraudulent debtor trying to escape by the same steamer, the Atlantic.
"The following extracts from contemporary newspapers will give the reader some idea as to what a 'hot' place Ireland was for me:
"(By Cable to the New York Herald.)
"London.
"Three shabbily dressed men, who, from their accent, are believed
to be Americans, were arrested in Cork, Ireland, this morning while
attempting to deposit $12,000 in that city.
"They are supposed to be the parties who recently committed the
frauds on the Bank of England."
"From the London Times of same date."
"To Editor of Times.
"Sir: The case of Dr. Hessel has been so lately before the public, and so much has been written both in the English and German papers against the English police, that probably a little evidence upon the procedure of the German (or, I ought probably to say, the Bavarian) may not be uninteresting at the present moment. Myself and son, a sub-lieutenant, R. N., made a great attempt to reach the grotesque old city of Nuremberg on Saturday last, arriving there about 7 o'clock. We were asked to put our names in the stranger's book, as usual, which we did, and retired to bed. Imagine our surprise, on rising on Sunday morning, at receiving a visit from one of the chief police officers, requesting us to 'legitimize ourselves.' I asked him his object for making this demand, when he replied that a man named Warren was wanted by the English police.
"In vain I showed him an old passport and letters addressed to me, showing that my name was Warner; he informed me that I could not leave my room, and placed two policemen at the door. At 1 o'clock I remembered an influential inhabitant of the town who knew me, and I sent for him. He at once went to headquarters and gave bond for me to a large amount, and at 6 o'clock in the evening myself and son were released. You will remember that in the case of Dr. Hessel four persons swore to his identity before he was deprived of his liberty. In my case a similar name to that required was sufficient to deprive me of mine.
"I have since received, thanks to the strenuous and prompt action of the British Minister at Munich, a very ample apology in writing for the blunder that had been committed. It was signed by the Burgermeister of the city, and as the intelligence of this worthy seems to be equaled by his simplicity, he sends me a safe pass to protect me in my further travels, in case Warner should again be considered the same as Warren. I remain, sir, your obedient servant,
"CHARLES W. C. WARNER,
"Ex-Sheriff, London and Middlesex
"I now return to my narrative. In the second-class compartment where I sat were two burly, loud-talking, well-informed farm proprietors, one of whom had imbibed a little too freely of the native distillation. The sober one had just finished reading a column article on the 'Great Bank Forgery' to his lively companion, who at length turned and addressed me. I answered him politely in broken French, and he then went on to give his opinion of the bank affair, as nearly as I can remember, as follows:
"'You, being a Frenchman, don't understand about our great bank; but I tell you those Yankees did a clever thing when they attacked that powerful institution. The one they have got penned up here in Ireland can't possibly escape; indeed, according to the newspapers, he is already in the hands of the police. I am almost sorry to hear it, for in getting the best of that bank so cleverly the rascal deserves to get off; and see, here is a description of him.'
"I looked at the paper and saw that it was a fair general outline of my appearance, even to my ulster which I had with me in the valise, and the Scotch cap which was in my pocket. Before we reached Drogheda I had explained to one of my new friends, in broken French, that, owing to my ignorance of the English language, I had purchased a wrong ticket, and being liable to make a similar mistake, should feel obliged if he would take the trouble to procure me a ticket at that station. He readily assented, and by this means I procured it without exposing myself. The hunt for me was becoming so extremely hot that I dared not show myself again at a ticket office; and if I should be found on a train ticketless that fact might lead to closer scrutiny—the rule in that country being that every passenger must be provided with a ticket before entering a car.
"The train arrived in Belfast at 9 o'clock, and I at once took a cab to the Glasgow steamer. It was very dark, and I went on board unobserved, two hours before the time of departure. Going down into the saloon cabin, I saw the purser sitting near the entrance, to whom I said: 'Parlez vous Francais?' He shook his head. I then asked in jargon for 'une billet a Glasgow.' Surmising what I wished, he gave me a ticket, putting on it the number of my berth.
"Expecting to be followed, I had taken that instant precaution of impressing on the purser's mind that I was a Frenchman. I passed into the washroom, just opposite where the purser sat, washed myself and brushed my hair. Just at this moment I heard steps descending the cabin stairway, then the words:
"'Purser, a cab just brought a man from the Dublin train. Where is he?'
"'Oh, you mean the Frenchman,' replied the purser; 'he's in the washroom.'
ONE WHO HAS BEEN ROBBED IDENTIFYING THE THIEF AT NEWGATE.
"While this was passing I had put on my silk hat and taken up my valise, and was standing before the glass (a la Francais) taking a final view of my toilette, and snapping off some imaginary dust and lint, as the two detectives stepped in, and after looking me well over went out, and I saw them no more. That proved to be the last ordeal through which I passed in Ireland. After being convinced that they had left the steamer I went to my berth, and being thoroughly exhausted I fell asleep in an instant, not awaking until the steamer was entering the harbor of Glasgow.
"After my arrest a month later in Scotland, during the transfer to London and afterward to Newgate, while awaiting trial, the detectives told me that they were in Cork three hours after I had left, and one of them related their adventures substantially as follows:
"'We arrived in Cork Saturday afternoon and were not long in finding the temperance hotel where you stayed on Friday night, and the hat you left behind. After a long hunt we ascertained that a jaunting car had left the stand some hours previously and was still absent.
"'We had a good laugh at those blunder-heads, the Cork officers, letting you slip through their fingers, and then showed them how we do things. After some delay we traced the cab across the bridge to the shop where you got the boy to go for it. The shopwoman was quite voluble about you, saying she knew all the time that you were an American by the accent, and described the bag and ulster which we had ascertained were in your possession. Of course, we were now satisfied that we were on the right scent, but could get no further trace or the direction taken by the cab. We therefore sent dispatches to all the telegraph stations within fifty miles to put the police on the watch and sent messengers to the outlying places, but somehow you slipped through our meshes, and nothing turned up until the car man returned at about 11 p.m., as drunk as a soldier on furlough. After putting him under a water tap until he was half drowned we got him sober enough to tell where he had left you; but he swore you were a priest, and his evident sincerity caused us all to roar with laughter. This angered him, and he said: "Ye may twist me head an' dhroun me intirely, but I wull niver spake another wurrud about the jintelman at all, at all," and sure enough we could get nothing more out of him.
"'We had a carriage ready, and, jumping in, we were at the wayside inn by midnight and terrified the old woman half out of her wits in arousing her out of bed. After a while she gathered them sufficiently to show us that you had six hours the start of us. The boy who carried your bag could give us no points, but we concluded you intended taking the branch line at Fermoy for Dublin. We drove right on, arriving at the Fermoy station at 1 p.m., but, getting no trace we telegraphed to all the stations along the line to Dublin, and there as well to be on the lookout. Who would ever have thought of your taking the opposite direction, penning yourself in at the end of a branch line, at a small inland town like Lismore? Why, you were, as we discovered the next morning, at that moment sleeping quietly at the Lismore Hotel, and only about ten miles from where we were working so industriously for that £5,000! Well, you "done" us fine that time!
"'After you so cleverly threw us off the trail, we could get no trace until Sunday morning, when we received a dispatch from Lismore, stating that a man had come on the last train, stayed at the hotel and left at daylight without paying his bill. "Hello!" said I, as soon as I read the dispatch, "we never suspected Lismore; he has been there all night and is off again!" We telegraphed to Clonmel, Waterford and other places; then left for Lismore, where we arrived, paid your bill and took the bag with us. Surmising that you might make for Clonmel, we looked for and found the place where you got the car, but no news as to what direction you had taken. It would have made you laugh, as it did us, to see the old livery man stamp about and tear his hair when he found how easily he could have made the £5,000—if he had "only known."
"'Starting on the way to Clonmel, we soon had news which satisfied us we were once more on the right track. Shortly after we met, sure enough, the cab you had sent back from the country store. Arriving there we took the boy, who had just returned from driving you to Clonmel, with us, and, feeling sure that we should soon come up with you, we made our horses spin toward that town. Arriving there, we saw the inspector, who informed us that he had sent a constable in pursuit of a man who had hired a car to go to Cahir.' (This must have been one of the men in the car whom I escaped by dodging into the ruined cottage.) 'It being then sundown we drove to Cahir with all speed, arriving there just after dark, passing the Clonmel mail car inside the gate; but it contained no one but the driver.
"'We soon found the constable sent from Clonmel, who said you had disappeared into the fort, where a friend must have concealed you, and that you must be there still. He then took us to the fort, which was closed for the night. As soon as my eyes lighted on the ruined cottages I asked him if he had searched them and received an answer in the negative. "Why," said he, "they are, as you see, all open to the day, without roof, doors or windows, and no one would think of hiding in them." "You are a fool," I replied. "Give me your lamp and come with me." After a look around and seeing how easily any person could stand in a corner out of sight, I remarked to him emphatically that he was the biggest specimen of a goose I had ever seen in my line. "I think," said I, "you had better go home and play pin. Here is where he dodged you, and now he is off again, with an hour or more start." We worked until after midnight and gave Cahir such a "turning over" that the inhabitants won't soon forget, but could not get hold of the least trace, except at one place (Maloy's), where a woman said a stranger came in at supper time, who said he was an American seeing the people in their homes. We cross-questioned the man, but could get nothing out of him more than that you had departed.
"'At last we gave it up, went to the hotel to get some sleep, which we needed badly, and the next day went to Dublin, heard about the finding of your neck-wrapper at the Cathedral Hotel, and knocked about Ireland for some time. During this time we arrested several persons, but soon discovered none of them was the right party, and we never obtained a genuine trace until you were discovered later in Edinburgh.'"
MARKET CROSS, EDINBURGH.