MOYAMENSING PRISON DIARY.
Saturday Evening, November 24, 1894.—A week ago to-day I was placed under arrest in Boston, and after a preliminary hearing was brought here to Philadelphia, where I was confined at City Hall police headquarters. Yester-day p. m. I was placed in a crowded conveyance filled with a filthy lot of humanity, and after what seemed to me an endless drive reached the county prison, located at Tenth and Reed streets, which is known as Moyamensing. I was assigned to a thoroughly clean, whitewashed room, about 9 x 14 feet in size, lighted by one very narrow grated window. The entrance to the room is closed by a small latticed iron door, beyond which is still another solid door of wood, which, when closed, excludes nearly all sound, and thus renders the room practically a place of solitary confinement. A register furnishes furnace heat, and one sixteen candle power electric burner gives light during a part of the evening, it being turned off promptly at 9 p. m. The superintendent of the prison came to my door for a few moments this morning, and spoke to me of some of the prison rules and regulations. My attorney, Mr. Shoemaker, also called on me, also assured me that my wife should see me on Monday, and that she was no longer seriously ill, to hear which makes my heavy load seem lighter. I have now had three meals served to me since coming here, and can judge something of what my food will be if I have to stay here any length of time. For breakfast a plentiful supply of plain coffee and a quantity of coarse white bread; at the noon hour a small pail well filled with soup, thickened with barley and a few beans, and containing a large piece of beef; at 5 p. m. I was agreeably surprised at receiving a liberal quantity of cocoa, made, I judge, from cocoa shells—a most healthful drink for one in such close confinement. This was accompanied by another piece of bread, which completed the day’s rations. One thing is certain, even if not a great variety, the quantity is sufficient, and is cleanly cooked and served.
Sunday, November 25, 1894.—A long, still day, doubly hard to bear, inasmuch as since my marriage it has, owing to our long talks, reading and driving, grown to be a day of delight to me. At 3 p. m. the outer door to my room was opened about four inches in order to admit the sound of the religious services held at that hour and lasting until 4 o’clock, which consists principally of singing, some of which is quite good.
November 26, 1894.—My wife came to see me at 9.30 this morning. I had not been allowed to see her since my arrival in Philadelphia, and it required all the courage I could command to go to her under such humiliating circumstances. Our meeting took place in the presence of one of the prison officials. She has suffered, and though she tried heroically to keep me from seeing it, it was of no avail; and in a few minutes to again bid her good-bye and know she was going out into the world with so heavy a load to bear, caused me more suffering than any death struggles can ever do. Each day until I know she is safe from harm and annoyance will be a living death to me. I am promised that for the present she shall visit me two times a week, each week, not to exceed fifteen minutes in duration. If she can bear the humiliation of coming here it will be a Godsend to me, but I shall not urge her to do so against her will.
Tuesday, November 27, 1894.—My attorney called to see me to-day. He only is allowed to visit my room and converse with me alone. Our time was principally occupied in planning to furnish bail for Mrs. Pitezel, who must be set at liberty at all hazards. I am threatened with arrest upon the charge of murder, if I give bail myself, which is only another form of saying that I must stay here until it is their pleasure to call my case for trial; for if charged with murder, bail would not be accepted. Had letters sent to Miss Williams. The other two children are here in Philadelphia, and I am assured are well cared for. Was agreeably surprised to-day to find that unsentenced prisoners are allowed to receive eatables, at their own expense, from outside the prison, and I shall make arrangements to have this brought about. I also can have all newspapers and periodicals I wish. Money here in the prison, aside from these uses, is absolutely without value.
November 30, 1894.—My wife came, looking brighter and stronger. This time a seat was given her outside my door, though a keeper was present during the entire interview. I can see only too plainly what an effort it is for her to come into this terrible place, for she sees more of the prison in passing in and out than I do myself, and to one of her sensitive nature it is a most trying experience. Was instructed to-day that, after I have completed several important business letters I am writing, I must restrict all of my correspondence to one letter a week. All mail is inspected in the prison office. I think my weight is twenty pounds less than at time of my arrest; but I am getting more used to my unnatural surroundings and to my bed of straw, and am sleeping better. The great humiliation of feeling that I am a prisoner is killing me far more than any other discomforts I have to endure. I notice quite a difference, however, between my wooden stool and a comfortable office or rocking-chair, but still feel that I have much to be thankful for, as thus far I have been allowed to wear my own clothing and to keep my watch and other small belongings. The escape from wearing the convict garb I greatly appreciate.
December 3, 1894.—I have commenced to write a careful and truthful account of all matters pertaining to my case, including the fact that Pitezel is dead and that the children are with Miss Williams, and as soon as I have completed it I shall ask my attorney to place it in the hands of the authorities that they may verify what I have written.
I feel that I could very easily have carried out the statements I made relative to his being alive and the substitution of a body if there was anything to be gained by it, but Mrs. Pitezel, at all events, should know of it before the children return, lest the question arise as to where he was, and give occasion for the prosecution to feel that other motives than this had caused me to conceal the true state of affairs.
December 25, 1894—Christmas. I shall receive no presents, and caused only a few flowers to be sent to ——, as I feel that any reminder of a year ago to-day would make it harder for her to bear. Nor will I trust myself to write at length to-night. I did not have a dinner sent in to-day. To-morrow will also be another sad anniversary, and a day hard to bear.
January 1, 1895.—The New Year. I have been busy nearly all day in prison formulating a methodical plan for my daily life while in prison, to which I shall hereafter rigidly adhere, for the terrible solitude of these dark winter days will otherwise soon break me down. I shall rise at 6.30, and after taking my usual sponge bath shall clean my room and arrange it for the day. My meal hours shall be 7.30 a. m., 12, and 5 and 9 p. m. I shall eat no more meat of any kind while I am so closely confined. Until 10 a. m. all the time not otherwise disposed of shall be devoted to exercise and reading the morning papers. From 10 to 12 and 2 to 4, six days in the week, I shall confine myself to my old medical works and other college studies, including stenography, French and German, the balance of my day shall be taken up with reading the periodicals and library books with which —— keeps me well supplied. I shall retire at 9 p. m. and shall as soon as possible force myself into the habit of sleeping throughout the entire night. Received a most kind and tender letter from my wife, filled with encouraging words. But each day seems to make it harder to bear.
January 9th.—We have abandoned for the time being all hopes of procuring Mrs. Pitezel her liberty. The insurance company, misconstruing our motives, are determined to keep her under their control. Efforts are being made to keep me from making satisfactory settlements of my business matters, as well as trying to induce my wife to abandon me. Came across these two lines in my reading to-day:—
“I only know the sky has lost its blue,
The days are weary and the night is drear.”
They so thoroughly described my own condition that I cannot refrain from copying them to-night.
January 25th.—Had a long, quiet talk with my wife at City Hall to-day, where I had been taken to be interviewed by the authorities. I feel better and stronger to-night than for many days. Caused advertisement to be sent to Miss Williams, and also sent out a large number of business letters, there being no restriction against doing so while there.
In February Mr. Shoemaker started West and South to settle up my business matters for me; I expect him to be absent fully two weeks. Owing to the interference of the insurance company, property that I would have refused $50,000 for three months ago, some of which I would not have sold at all, will have to be sacrificed, so that not more than one-half that sum will be realized for it.
March 1st.—Commenced to-day to arrange for my trial. Mr. S. P. Rotan is to act with Mr. Shoemaker as associate counsel. Thus far I have devoted but little time to this work, but shall now give my 10 to 12 study hour to it each day.
March 11th.—Read Trilby, and was much pleased with parts of it. My wife also brought me some very nice flowers, speaking so strongly to me of our former life that I have had to put them from my sight.
March 23d.—The days are fast lengthening; the sun shone into my room for a few minutes to-day for the first time since I came here.
May 16th.—My birthday. Am 34 years old. I wonder if, as in former years, mother will write me. Was at the City Hall and pleaded with the Assistant District Attorney again that my present case be abandoned and that I be at once tried upon the charge of killing Pitezel, as I feel that I cannot too soon have this matter settled, inasmuch as they so boldly accuse me of it. This they flatly refused to do, saying I only wished to avoid serving a sentence upon the minor charge. Then the only satisfaction I could obtain when I urged that the conspiracy charge be tried at once in order that Mrs. Pitezel may be set at liberty was, “Don’t you worry yourself about Mrs. Pitezel; we will care for her and will also give you all you want to do before we are through with you.” Have retained Mr. R. O. Moon as special counsel.
May 21st.—My case was called in Court to-day, and I entered a formal plea of “not guilty.” The trial was postponed until a later date. On Monday, May 27th, my case was called for trial. I went to the City Hall, where the Court was held, in the same kind of conveyance that had brought me here over six months before, and was conducted by two officers into the Court room, and placed in a small enclosure in the centre of the room. After a little delay, the Court was called to order, Judge Hare presiding. Little time was lost in securing a jury, as those first called, almost without exception, appeared to be both intelligent and honest. After administering the oaths, the District Attorney arose and addressed the Court. Theretofore I had not looked upon my case as serious, for after I had placed before the authorities my written statement, some months earlier, stating that Pitezel was actually dead, some of the prosecution and the insurance company had openly stated that they believed it to be true, and knowing myself that his death had actually occurred, it left little, save the charge of conspiracy, to be disposed of; but when the prosecution drew into the case matters altogether foreign to the conspiracy charges, I felt that it could not help but influence the jury. The authorities had also brought Mrs. Pitezel into Court, and had seated her in a prominent portion of the room, and later, while giving his testimony, one of the witnesses led the Court to understand that with a knife I had proceeded, in a cold-blooded manner, to mutilate the body of Pitezel at the time of examination for the purpose of identification. I saw that the prosecution were determined to magnify and dilate each point that could be turned in their favor.
During the afternoon session I learned that a subpœna had been issued requiring my wife to appear in Court, contrary to a distinct arrangement that I had previously made with the insurance company that she should not be used as a witness or annoyed in regard to the case, and I felt that I would rather serve a longer term of imprisonment than thus humiliate her. At the close of the Court for the day I learned that the prosecution were prepared to place upon the witness stand the doctors before referred to, who had seen the body at Callowhill street, both of whom would swear the body found there could not have been Pitezel, a matter I could not disprove, and that evening, after considering all the proceedings of the day, I resolved to ask my counsel to allow me to change my plea, relying upon them to show the Court when I should, at a later date, be brought before the Judge to be sentenced, that while there had existed an agreement to perpetrate a fraud under certain circumstances, there was no active conspiracy at the time when Pitezel’s death had occurred, and that the death being genuine, the insurance company had not been defrauded. This, together with the fact that I should save at least a week’s valuable time to the Court by ending my trial as I did, I hoped would cause the Judge to reduce my sentence to one-half the fullest extent, thus allowing me to go to Texas in October, 1895, which would be in season to attend to my business matters there before they would seriously suffer from the delay. Before leaving the Court the Judge stated that I should be allowed the six months I had already been in prison, which I could not but appreciate, as it was wholly discretionary with him. Later during the day I was called before the District Attorney, in his private office, and there made a statement as to the probable whereabouts of the children, telling them as truthfully as I knew all the facts I could think of that would aid them in the search, and later gave them the cipher I had formerly used in communicating with Miss Williams. I then returned to my prison room at Moyamensing.
Upon the 18th of June I was taken to the Court House as a witness in the case against Howe; but a long continuance being taken, I was not called upon to testify. Shortly thereafter one of my attorneys, after careful preparation, went to London, and did considerable hard work for me in endeavoring to locate the missing children by searching for the old addresses given me by Hatch; and the assertion made by the Assistant District Attorney that I had deceived my counsel and sent him upon a search I knew to be useless, is simply one of many statements he has made both to me and for publication that are painful evidence of the want of discernment and good judgment one had a right to expect from the occupant of so important a position.
Later in June Detective Guyer called on me, and, in a long conversation with him, I made a most honest endeavor to place him in possession of all the facts I could think of that would be instrumental in facilitating the proposed search, which I looked upon and welcomed as one of corroboration of the same statements I had previously made, feeling that upon his following my movements from place to place, and finding that I had not misled him in any way, he would return more free to believe other statements that were not so easily verified; and I do not think I need to state to any intelligent reader that had I known of the death and burial of the little ones in the Toronto cellar, and wished to conceal the same, I should have avoided all mention of other houses where furniture had been brought and, in one instance, an excavation made, and I feel that if Mr. Guyer were called upon for a truthful statement, he could not fail to say that but for my aid, freely given him at this time, together with detailed statements and drawings previously made relating to those places where I had forgotten the exact location, his search would have been a failure, inasmuch as he would have had no incentive to prosecute a similar investigation in Toronto.
On the morning of the 16th of July, my newspaper was delivered to me at about 8.30 a. m., and I had hardly opened it before I saw in large headlines the announcement of the finding of the children in Toronto. For the moment it seemed so impossible, that I was inclined to think it one of the frequent newspaper excitements that had attended the earlier part of the case, but, in attempting to quickly gain some accurate comprehension of what was stated in the article, I became convinced that at least certain bodies had been found there, and upon comparing the date when the house was hired I knew it to be the same as when the children had been in Toronto; and thus being forced to realize the awfulness of what had probably happened, I gave up trying to read the article, and saw instead the two little faces as they had looked when I hurriedly left them—felt the innocent child’s kiss so timidly given and heard again their earnest words of farewell, and I realized that I had received another burden to carry to my grave with me, equal, if not worse, than the horrors of Nannie Williams’ death.
I think at this time I should have lost my senses utterly had I not been hurriedly called to prepare to be taken to the District Attorney’s office. I went there securely handcuffed and accompanied by two officers for further safety, and not until these extra precautions were taken did I realize the new and terrible change that had occurred affecting the entire aspect of my case. Upon reaching the City Hall the Assistant District Attorney met me. I was in no condition to bear his accusations, nor disposed to answer many of his questions. I felt it right that he should know that I had already seen the morning papers, and upon his demanding that I tell him where the body of the boy could be found, I answered, that in the light of the Toronto development, I had reason to think he would be found buried in or about the house that had been hired in Detroit. He then accused me of killing him in Detroit and destroying his body by burning it in a furnace that was in the cellar. This I denied, and moreover felt sure and told him that the body could not have been destroyed there in that way by any one else, as I had been in the house upon two occasions and knew that if human remains had been cremated there even at a considerably earlier date the odor would have been noticeable. I did not see the District Attorney at this interview and was very soon taken to the prison again.
For the next forty-eight hours I reasoned and thought, studying minutely each step of our journey from the time Hatch had joined us; but what seemed utterly incomprehensible to me then, and even now, was how any sane man would take such awful chances, even if he had no other scruples to restrain him, yet I well knew it could have been no one else that committed the crime, for in that event the non-arrival of the children would have been known to us. I knew also that the small sum of $400, that was given to the girls just previous to their death, could have been no incentive for the commission of the act, and was forced to look further for the motive. I could only think that it had been done at Miss Williams’ suggestion and in furtherance of her threat of the previous year, which, owing to friendliness at a later date, I had believed wholly abandoned, probably also intending to give color to a theory (if later for her safety such had to be advanced) that I, and not she, had killed her sister, pointing to these disappearances that had occurred at a time when I was known to have had the children in my charge as corroborative of the same, though I felt sure that her hellish wish for vengeance for the imagined desertion of the previous year was much the more potent of the two motives.
Finally I commenced at the time I had first asked them to come here, and following carefully each step and conversation we had held, I became certain that when Hatch had first met me in Cincinnati he could have had no matured plans. Then going over our route I could see no change until after reaching Indiana. He had gone away for a few days to Chicago, as he then said, but, as I now believe, to Detroit, to consult with Miss Williams, as it occurred directly after he had first known I was liable to be arrested. He then commenced taking more interest in the children, taking them about with him and buying them presents. It was at this time, also, that he took a private room, saying that inasmuch as I was liable to be watched, it was unsafe for any of us to be at a hotel. It was then that he had his beard removed from his chin[9] in the barber shop at the Indianapolis depot, each act being a trifle in itself, yet taken together showed to me that then was when the change had commenced. Following still further, I had at first wished to go to Chicago alone, thinking it safer to do so than to be accompanied by the children. I had asked him to take them all to Detroit with him, to which he replied that if this was done it would keep him from looking about for a house there for Mrs. Pitezel, which we were anxious to obtain as quickly as possible; that he could take the boy with him easily, for he could accompany him about the city in his search. This, together with the girls’ desire to go to Chicago, led me to carry out the arrangement in this way. Then came our arrival in Detroit, two days later, when Hatch stated that the boy had gone with Miss Williams to Buffalo, and that he had been delayed twenty-four hours en route to Detroit at some junction where a wreck had occurred, thus accounting for his having made no search for a house.
Then of another circumstance, which ordinarily I should not have considered more than a coincidence. While in Cincinnati, Alice and the boy had disputed as to which should wear an old watch that had belonged to their father. Alice advancing her claim of superior years, Howard, that he was the boy of the family, accompanied by the remembrance that his father had promised it to him when he grew older. I settled the matter by taking the watch in charge and buying each of them a small nickel open-faced watch and chain. This left little Nellie with a broken heart, and as soon as I noticed her trouble, I told her that before our journey was ended I would also buy one for her, or something else equally pleasing to her, if she preferred. The day after our arrival in Detroit she came to me much elated, saying Mr. Hatch had bought her a watch. Upon looking at it, it proved to be of the same make and design as the one Alice had, and I now believe it was the same watch I had given Howard some days before. Then in Detroit occurred the buying of the spade and his insisting upon taking it to Toronto, giving the weak excuse that he had paid for it and did not wish to throw it away, when he could have sold it at a second-hand store much easier than to have taken it so far to the depot to place it in the trunk. Then, the letter from Miss Williams, asking that I pay the $1,000 due upon the Fort Worth property then, instead of later, as she wished to use a part of it; it seeming hardly probable, if this had been the real reason of requiring the money at that time, that so much trouble would have been taken in trying to convert the money I gave into a $1,000 bill.
The only other circumstance I could then think of was his almost querulous objection to my buying a jacket in Detroit for one of the girls, and later heavier clothing in Toronto, he saying that Miss Williams could better understand their needs, and his efforts to borrow $500 from me in Burlington, and also that Alice had told me in Toronto that Mr. Hatch had given her a letter or a postal card to write for him, as he had no writing materials at his room. I asked her what it was about, and she answered, as near as I can remember, that it was to a Mr. Cooke about a house that he did not need longer and about a sale of furniture or that it had been sold. If I thought sufficiently of the matter at the time, I supposed it referred to the Detroit house, as this was the only one I had reason to think he had engaged, and I think it will be later found that at Logansport or Peru, or some other junction town in Indiana, a house was hired upon October 10th or 11th, while I was in Chicago, and the body of the boy shipped from the hotel in Indianapolis in accordance with the report that a large trunk was that day shipped to an unknown destination, and the remains buried similarly to the Toronto case, and that this was the true cause of his delay in reaching Detroit.
Some days later I told the authorities that such was my belief, giving them my reasons for thinking so, and for my pains I was severely taken to task for having previously stated that I thought he would be found in or about the Detroit house. From this I have been characterized by them as a supreme falsifier.
With the one exception of the statements made at the time of my arrest, and adhered to until I knew Mrs. Pitezel could be no longer saved from worriment by so doing, I know of no material misstatements made, save that the children were in England, which I most honestly believed to be true.
The next day I saw an account in the papers of my wife’s coming here in answer to a telegram from the District Attorney’s office. This said to me far more than was printed in the paper. I knew she must have been intimidated to have come at this time and in answer to a summons from them. My fears were confirmed a few days later when I learned from a trusted source that such was the case, and that the threat had been made that if she made any effort to see or communicate with me she would be arrested and held as a witness. (It will here be remembered that our prison interviews were invariably held in the presence of a keeper.) And upon the other hand if she remained away from me and aided them, all her expenses would be paid by the prosecution or the insurance company.
I knew that the latter would have no weight with her, but I feared that the threats they made would cause her to worry until she became ill, and I therefore felt justified in resorting to almost any means to see her and try and quiet her fears. With this in view I wrote the District Attorney that if I could have an interview with him, my wife being present, I would endeavor to make it plain to him where they could expect to find the remains of the boy. This interview was promptly accorded me and, upon being taken into his private office, I met my wife, and it needed but one glance to know what she had been and was then suffering, which caused a feeling of almost uncontrollable anger to take possession of me, both towards the authorities for unjustly causing her hard lot to be made worse, and towards myself that for the sake of business gains I had ever allowed myself to enter into the petty transactions that had been the cause of all her troubles. My first inquiry, as could naturally be expected, was as to her physical condition and if she was in comfortable quarters and free from actual restraint. I also told her that until the world at large ceased to look upon me as a murderer I should not in the presence of others greet her as was my usual custom. If at this time my wife shrank from me as though in fear, as was given out from the District Attorney’s office for publication, I, in my blindness, did not see it, and in the days and nights that followed until I again heard of her welfare almost my only source of comfort was the remembrance of the few kind words she had said, and, what was even more to me, that she had worn both her engagement and her wedding rings, and as many of the gifts I had presented to her during our happier days as she could without exciting undue notice, choosing those that would convey to me from their associations the kind thoughts she knew she would have no opportunity to say in words.
This was particularly plain to me, inasmuch as it was wholly contrary to her usual custom to appear thus attired at that early hour of the day, and in so public a place, and until she tells me that such is not the case I shall hold to the belief that she is yet loyal to me. There were present at this meeting, beside the District Attorney, Mr. Shoemaker and Supt. Linden, and for a part of the time Mr. Fouse and the Assistant District Attorney. I endeavored to state to them, in as few words as possible, the circumstances of Hatch’s delay of twenty-four hours, and the letters sent from either Detroit or Toronto about a house. They at once branded my statements concerning Hatch as untrue, and said that he was a mythical person, asking me to name any one who had ever seen him. In reply I said, “I do not consider that you have any more grounds for doubting the fact that he was at these places than to doubt that Mrs. Pitezel or these children were there, because they did not happen to meet. However, you need not rely upon my statements.”
Last November or December Mr. Perry, a representative of the insurance company, came to the prison, in company with another witness, to question me about some other matters pertaining to the case, and while there said to me, “Who was the man you met at the Burlington depot you seemed so surprised to see, and immediately went to the telegraph office and took up a message you had previously written?”
I told him it was a man named Hatch, a friend of Miss Williams, who was not connected with my case in any important way. I also stated in further answer to the District Attorney’s question that I felt sure that the barber in the Indianapolis depot would remember his coming there with me, it being so unusual an occurrence for me to be accompanied by any one; that the proprietor or clerk of the small hotel where he had taken the children upon their arrival in Detroit would remember him, and probably the woman where they boarded during most of their stay in that city, as he accompanied them to the train the day following my departure for Toronto. That Mrs. Pitezel will remember his calling at her house at Burlington, and upon her going to the door he made some trivial excuse and went away, having expected to meet me there. And that my wife will remember my leaving her upon the steamboat landing at B. for a moment to step across to the depot to speak to him, and upon two subsequent occasions while in that city of recognizing him upon the street, she remarking upon my knowing any one there, and parties who have lately testified that they knew of my visiting Miss Williams in New York in 1888, and later in Denver, will know that it was Hatch and not myself, as I never was in Denver until January, 1894, and never saw Miss Williams prior to January, 1893.
“Call him Hatch, Jones, or Smith, if you will, but you have known for months that there was such a person at certain places during the trip with whom I communicated, and with whom I was seen, and whose existence you cannot now ignore.”
I then tried to explain to them that for want of time alone, even if I were the bloodthirsty villain they were inclined to make me appear, I could not be guilty of the Toronto murders, and begged them to allow me to go there before by any chance evidence that could now be obtained should become unavailable to me. To this the District Attorney replied, “I shall not do it; I shall try you here.” What more could be said? If a man as broad-minded as I knew the District Attorney to be, both from common report and from my own observation, would not consider so important a statement, what could I expect from others having a less thorough knowledge of the case? I was much disappointed, both at not being allowed to go there, and at the harsh and unjust way he looked upon the matter, and the feeling was increased a few minutes later when I asked to be allowed to provide for my wife’s support while here, by having him tell me that he did not consider it any part of my business at the present time to either know of or care for her welfare; and some weeks later by his refusing to allow my relatives and business agent to visit me at the prison, and by a number of trivial matters like withholding my newspaper and intercepting and keeping letters that, after reading, he could see did not pertain to, and could not influence my case in any way, saying that if I were given hardships enough and kept long enough away from others, I would confess these crimes. Feeling it was useless to prolong the interview, and noticing that my wife was suffering intensely, I brought it to a close as quickly as possible. I bade her good-bye and was again handcuffed and taken to prison.
During the previous days the part of the Toronto matters that had seemed the most unaccountable to me was how Hatch could have returned to the depot so soon after I had left both him and the children upon the train, and what excuse he could have given to them to forego their journey. This information my interview had supplied. In questioning me, Superintendent Linden had said, “Who was that light young man standing upon the corner of the street near the house where the children were killed, that you spoke with at some length and then went away to hire an expressman?” I hesitated in my answer to him, and finally told him that I had not met any one there, but if he knew that such a meeting had taken place it was of the most vital importance to my case. There had instantly come into my mind when he had asked this question a remembrance of two years previous, but owing to their scoffs at the possibility of Hatch’s existence, I felt it wise to refrain from speaking of it to him until I could hear from those by whom I could prove the statement I would have liked to have made at the time.
One day in the spring of ‘93, soon after Miss Williams’ trunks, containing her theatrical costumes, had been brought to our rooms in the block in Chicago, returning from the city one afternoon, I met upon the stairway leading to my office a jauntily dressed young man, whom, as I passed, I asked to cease smoking his cigarette within the building, and a few minutes later was being saucily laughed at in my office by Miss Williams. So clever had the deception been, both in clothing and change in facial expression by aid of her color box, that upon her wishing to do so, I allowed her to accompany me upon a trip to Aurora, Ill., and later to St. Joseph, Mich., costumed in this manner. That both of these trips, made under these circumstances, actually occurred, I am able to prove by competent and disinterested persons, and I feel sure that Miss Williams was in Toronto, probably meeting the children at Hamilton, and returning with them, and keeping one with her while the other was killed; and next day, while I must necessarily have been hundreds of miles away, inasmuch as I registered at Prescott at 4 p. m., she, if any one, met Hatch near this house, disguised in this manner. On August 15th, Mr. Cops, a Fort Worth attorney, obtained permission of the District Attorney to interview me, and, after questioning me for a time, said he would like to tell me his theory of how I had killed my Chicago victims, which was that while they were in my office I had in some way induced them to step inside the vault and then caused their death by suffocation. He said, “Why, Holmes, it is the plainest case I ever heard of, even the footprints of one of them are to be seen upon the door, where in their desperation they had tried to make their escape.”
I asked him when he believed the last of these deaths had occurred there. He replied, “Probably in July, 1893. In fact, if you could show me that Minnie Williams was alive after that date, I would be much inclined to believe that she was alive now and that she killed her sister, as you say, for, if alive, only that could have been a sufficient motive to induce her to conceal her whereabouts for so long from her Texas friends.” I said, “Will you grant me that I am not guilty of taking life there since I left Chicago about January 1, 1894, for Texas.” He replied, “Yes, I think that would be safe from the evidence I have gathered in Chicago.” I said, “In August, 1893, a fire occurred in the building, causing the destruction of many valuable letters and papers, and upon the building being repaired I bought this vault, in October or November, 1893, from a safe and vault company whose offices were one block west of La Salle street, between Madison and Adams, in Chicago. The purchase was made in the name of the Campbell-Yates Company, and in December, 1893, it was put in place and plastered by a workman named Kriss.
“A very few days thereafter I left Chicago and have never been in the rooms since. There was never any other vault in the building, save one upon the first floor that for years had been under the entire control of tenants occupying the drug and jewelry store in which it is located. I cannot give you the name or exact address of this company, but it is plainly printed upon the door of the vault, and upon your return to Chicago, if you care to do so, you can satisfy yourself of the truthfulness of my statement regarding it.” He said, “Until I can do this I cannot believe it to be true, but if I do find that such is the case I shall be inclined to return to Fort Worth and abandon my case, and upon the strength of what you have told me, I will say to you that I have lately learned that there has been found at Fort Worth among mail that was sent to you after you left that city, a London letter from Miss Williams, but being so sure in my own mind that she died nearly a year previous to that time, I have supposed it to be a clever forgery sent there by you to mislead those who found it.” I told him that Miss Williams had sent me three letters there which were forwarded by Mr. John L. Judd, my Denver agent, 1609 Lawrence street, that city, to whom he could write to or visit to corroborate my statement. That two of these letters I had received and had supposed the other had been sent to the Dead Letter Office and destroyed; that if he would take the letter to Mr. —— and others in Fort Worth, who knew her writing, they would at once tell him it was not a forgery. A few days later I heard of the explosion and fire at the block in Chicago, and felt, as has lately been the case whenever I hear of any loss of life, strange disappearances or other misdemeanors not easily accounted for, throughout the United States—anywhere in the world in fact—almost thankful that the strong doors of my prison room make it impossible for such acts to now be ascribed to me.