“Chicken! chicken!” replied Cook. “Chickens are worth a dollar and a half apiece in this country now, and I know you can’t afford chickens. Sowbelly is good enough for you.”
The woman replied that she put on style occasionally herself.
When Cook asked where the feathers were she declared that they had been thrown into the privy vault, while the bones had been burned in the stove.
A close search of the vault and of the ashes in the stove failed to reveal any trace of the remains of the alleged chicken. Here were other strong pointers. The arrest of Corman was decided upon. There seemed to be a pretty fair case against him already developed, and Mr. Cook had confidence in finding a great deal more testimony. Consequently he took Corman into custody and locked him up.
George Hopkins was at that time an officer in Denver, and he was called upon to aid in working up the case. He was sent to see Mrs. Kerwin and to ascertain, if possible, whether she did not know more about it than had so far been developed. Gen. Cook, himself, believed that she could tell the entire story if she would. In this case, as in most others, he hit the nail square on the head. The woman knew a great deal, and Hopkins was able to prevail upon her to tell her story. Her revelation was startling enough.
Mrs. Kerwin’s sleeping apartments adjoined those of Corman and Mrs. Foster, and there was only a thin board partition between the two rooms, there being many cracks in the boards. On the night of the assault she had heard Corman come in. She had already retired, and was supposed by him and the Foster woman to be asleep, though she was not. He had appeared to be considerably flurried, and had said to Mrs. Foster:
“Well, I hit the d——d old Jew, and I hit him hard, but I did not get anything—not a cent. The officers came so quick that I couldn’t move a wheel, and had to run like the devil to get away.”
As may be supposed, this disclosure had aroused the curiosity of the listening woman. She was now wide awake, and was determined to hear all that was to be said. She put her ear to an open crack, and then heard the man tell his woman how he had come upon the Jew and struck him with his hatchet. This he had no sooner done than John clutched him, the blood spurting out of his fresh wound and covering his shirt. The garment, he said, was then bloody. An examination by the two, which Mrs. Kerwin witnessed, confirmed his statement. It was then decided between them that the tell-tale garment must be disposed of. Corman accordingly took the shirt off, and they stowed it away in a cooking vessel which they found in the room, which Corman took to the back yard and buried, returning and going to bed.
The officers having this story in their possession, began to look for the hidden shirt. A snow had fallen in the early morning after it had been buried, and they were compelled to look over almost the entire yard for it before uncovering it, but they at last came upon the hidden article. It was found snugly buried some eight inches below the surface, and when brought out it was discovered to be pretty well bespattered with the crimson fluid.
Thus the case was worked up by Gen. Cook. He had not rested until he had probed the mystery to its foundation. It would seem that there could have hardly been the least chance for Corman to escape the gallows. Strange as it may appear to the reader, he not only was not hanged, but he was allowed to go scot free.