MORIARITY IN THE SWEAT-BOX—THE SUCCESS OF THE FORGED LETTER—MORIARITY CONFESSES.
Dan Moriarity, seated on a bare plank bench in his cell, was passing away the weary hours in figuring how he was to get out of the bad scrape into which he had plunged. He was now fully satisfied that the detectives were very certain that he had a hand in the express-car robbery—but how did they get hold of that dangerous fact? Not through Cook, for since his incarceration in the jail Dan had talked with Cook in the corridors, and Cook had sworn by all that was good and holy that he had not divulged a single word, and knowing that Cook stood in mortal fear of Cummings, as did he himself, Dan believed him.
It was not at all probable that either Haight or Weaver had given the thing away in Chicago, for Dan knew from Cummings that they had not been disturbed, and Cummings had not, or would not have given any information. Then how did the cursed "man-hunters" find out that he had helped in the affair?
Dan was busily engaged in trying to solve this knotty question when the bailiff in charge entered the door and told Dan to follow him to the office.
When Dan reached the room he found three gentlemen awaiting him, all strange faces to the robber. The eldest of the three, as he came in, pointed to a chair, and with commanding brevity and in a tone which indicated that he was used to being obeyed, told him to sit down.
The full glare of the light streaming in through the window fell full upon his face, while the remainder of the party, their faces turned toward him, were comparatively in the shadow, thus having him at a disadvantage. As was before remarked, Moriarity possessed a certain amount of bull courage, and seeing he was in for it, and feeling that he was to be put through the sweating process he sat erect in his chair, his lips compressed and his whole demeanor that of a cornered man determined to fight.
Mr. Pinkerton saw that and with courteous suavity inquired, "Is this
Mr. Moriarity?"
"What's the use of asking me; you know well enough who I am," replied
Dan, in short, curt syllables.
"Of course, of course; but I thought I might be mistaken."
"Well, you aren't."