When seating themselves in the train, Shinburn placed the gripsack, with its two hundred and eighty-one thousand dollar contents, to be exact, in the rack above his seat and gave the valuable bag no more attention. This carelessness came mighty near knocking the profits out of their previous day’s work. Eddie Hughes had chosen a seat nearer the front of the car than that occupied by Shinburn, and when the train stopped at Gray’s Ferry, which was the changing place for Philadelphia, he, Eddie, saw a young man pass him with a satchel that looked the counterpart of Shinburn’s. Hastily looking round, he saw that the satchel was missing from the rack over Shinburn’s head. Making a rush, he caught the young man on the platform. Grasping the satchel, he exclaimed, “What are you doing with my bag?”
The young man released his hold on the bag and with one bound landed on the station platform and set off on a sprint that would do credit even to Barney Wefers. Needless to say that Eddie did not run after him, nor even yell “Stop thief!” But he did take that bag and hold it in his lap for the rest of the trip.
Suffice it to say, that I had been back in New York about twenty-four hours when Shinburn put in an appearance, with his satchel crammed full of cash and securities. We kept the loot in the background for six weeks, when we concluded it was about time to begin negotiating the bonds. Upon making an inventory, I found we had got hold of one hundred and sixty-five thousand dollars’ worth of first-class securities and fifty-three thousand dollars in Union Pacific Railway bonds. In attempting to sell the securities, something happened which I, with regret, must relate.
Shinburn and a friend with much Wall Street business experience undertook to make the sale. They finally struck a deal with the reputed lobbyist, in Washington, District of Columbia, and Albany, New York, General Francis P. Spinola. Being told squarely the character of the securities, he insisted it was all right, as long as there was a good “rake-off” in the deal for him. Without much delay Spinola placed the securities in the hands of a certain broker, who was at the time a very familiar figure in Wall Street. The general represented to him that they were the assets of a large estate being closed up by an administrator, and it seemed as though we were about to realize the cash when a halt was called by the broker making a deeper inquiry as to how the securities came into General Spinola’s possession. When no proof of a satisfactory character was furnished, he declared the deal off. He was one of the honest men then in Wall Street, which can boast of none too many in these days, and couldn’t at the period of which I write. Of course this was a set-back, but General Spinola said he would persevere, and did, with what result we shall see. He was like all lobbyists, who, upon realizing that there is likely to be no money in one end of a deal, are mighty sure to jump to the other. Once let a lobbyist get a scent of money, and his nose is to the trail, never to be lifted. He cannot be dragged away. Realizing that suspicion had fallen upon him, and that there was the possibility that he might be connected with the sale of “crooked” bonds, Spinola flipflopped and covered his tracks by giving information to Superintendent of Police John A. Kennedy. Hurrying to Police Headquarters, he got an interview with the superintendent.
“Kennedy,” said he, “I’m on the track of securities and bonds stolen from the New Windsor Bank in Maryland.”
“Indeed!” ejaculated the superintendent, and he called in his chief of detectives, John Young.
“General Spinola has something to say to you, captain,” said Kennedy, “and there must be a quick action in the case!”
“Very well, sir,” Captain Young answered, and at once entered into a long conference with Spinola, who told him all he had gained from us in confidence. The result was the baiting of a trap to catch the Maryland looters. They at once opened a fake brokerage office at 71 Broadway, and Spinola made sure that this information reached us in furtherance of their purpose. It proved to be alluring enough, for one day Shinburn and our sales agent walked into the office like flies into a spider’s web. I well recall the day. It was eleven o’clock in the morning, and spot cash had been promised. General Spinola was there and greeted Shinburn warmly, not forgetting to keep a greedy eye on the money bag the latter carried.
“Ah, you have them—the securities?” he questioned, with a laugh. Mark slowly removed his hat and placed it on the counter, but drew the satchel quickly from the reach of Spinola’s eager grasp.
“One moment, general! Not quite yet! You’ll pardon me, but how are we to know you have the money to satisfy us?”