T. JEFF. CARR, Cheyenne, Wyoming.
The supper hour had come on and had nearly passed. Arnold had kept an eagle eye upon the room. His man had not gone in. Finally he wandered into the billiard hall, which was then but dimly lighted, and was unoccupied except by Arnold. Throwing himself down in a chair, the detective was preparing for a little meditative spell to decide what course to pursue, when a footstep fell upon his ear. Looking up he saw that a man had entered the door opposite him. A second glance told him that the newcomer was none other than Bemis. Sitting still until the stranger approached quite close to him, Arnold then got up and advanced to meet the man, speaking to him when he had approached very near him:
“Mr. Bemis, I believe?”
The man did not appear startled or especially confused. He seemed to have been expecting to be overtaken.
“Bemis—yes, that’s my name, and you are an officer come for me?”
Mr. Arnold told him that he had made a very good guess.
“I knew it. I am glad of it. I am ready and anxious to go with you. I want to get out of this hole, and I am tired of skulking about. I would rather a thousand times over go back home and meet all my old-time friends, explain all to them and go to prison, than to go hiding about the country all my life. I could not stand it much longer. So I am glad that you have come. You need fear no resistance from me.”
Arnold took his prisoner to his own room, where the fellow continued his talk in the above strain for some time. It was not long before the detective discovered another interesting feature of the story. In answer to Arnold’s inquiries as to where Bemis had been during the day, he stated that when he had gone to Santa Fe he still retained the bulk of the money which he had stolen, and believing that he had found a place to which detective vigilance would not extend, he had decided to settle down and go into business. He had determined to buy a cigar store, and had closed the contract, nothing remaining to be done but to pay over the money. He had, soon after going to his hotel, left his money for deposit in the safe, the proprietor of the house being aware of the amount which he had. This same individual, it seems, had become anxious to possess the roll himself, and while he was not courageous enough to steal it outright, as Bemis had done, he hit upon another plan, which was just as effectual and far more safe. He had discovered Bemis’ propensity for cards, and finding that the money was about to slip out of his grasp into the hands of the then owner of the cigar store, he proposed to Bemis that they have a quiet game of poker.
Nothing was more to the liking of the Syracuse man. He was willing. These two men and a pair of accomplices of the hotel proprietor were playing poker while Arnold was getting his requisition papers into shape on the night of his arrival. The game at first ran along very smoothly. There was little excitement for a long while. There was plenty to drink, and there was a supply of good cigars. The game appeared to be purely social. The bets were small. There was a general good time, and the entire crowd appeared to be quite “mellow” when the wee sma’ hours came on. It was not a matter of appearance with Bemis. He drank too much. Finding the young man in good shape, his “friends” began to tighten the screws. They had determined to get his money before the night should pass, and about 2 o’clock in the morning prepared to put their plans into execution.
It was the landlord’s deal. As he pushed out the ante, one of his accomplices said to Bemis: