We proceeded at once to Mr. Perkins's, instructed our waiting friends what to do,—for we might need aids,—and asked them to follow. No man was to speak a word, but do as he was bidden.
My dark lantern was lit and deposited under my cloak, and we went out, along down the street, across another,—down another a little way, and I saw that the citizens were occasionally looking wonder into each other's eyes, as much as to say, Where are we going? We arrived at the house, entered the yard. Mr. Perkins, by our arrangements, was to take and post two of the men under the villain's window, to catch him in case he should try to escape, to one of whom he gave a pistol, saying, "Catch any man who tries to escape out of this house. Shoot him, if necessary."
Up to this point not a word had been said to them of the music teacher. We had thought best to not knock for admission, of course; and I got in at the window where the villain had entered, proceeded to the little hall, unlocked silently the front door, and let in Mr. P. and the two other men. "Follow me softly," whispered Mr. P., and he led to the villain's room.
An hour had passed since we saw him come in, and we concluded he'd be asleep, as he was. We carefully tried the door: it was locked by a button. Mr. Perkins whispered to me, "Shall we rap, and catch him when he rises?"
"No, no," I answered quickly; and with a dash against the door with my shoulders, easily effected entrance. The villain started wildly. I threw the dazzling light of my dark lantern into his face, and rushed upon him in bed, clutched his throat, and cried, "Seize his clothes, and everything in the room! This is the man. Open the window, and call in the others to the show;" and Mr. Perkins did so.
In an instant the two men had found their way up to the room; and, in fact, the whole household was by this time aroused. We made speedy work of searching the wretch's clothes, and among other money found the five dollar bill taken from me. Without explanation, I passed it to Mr. Perkins, who recognized a peculiar mark we had made upon it, its date, etc. But the ten dollar bill was found in the villain's trunk, together with quite a sum of money. Mr. Perkins recognized the marks we had placed upon that: the watch was not to be found.
The teacher was a lithe, muscular fellow, and would have given me, alone, much trouble to hold him; but he was overwhelmed, and did little else but groan. We at once told him of the marked bills, etc., and pointed out to him that his best course now was to expose his accomplice or accomplices; that the bitterest curses of the law would fall upon him if he did not.
The pale, trembling fellow, a real coward at heart, as many such villains are, made his confession on the spot, notes of which were taken down by me, and by one of the committe-men in his diary. He told us that his accomplice was——, a son of a pretty well-to-do farmer, whose name I cannot mention, and whose relations still reside in the village—most estimable people, which is the reason why I have carefully avoided mentioning the name of the place.
When he named his accomplice, one of the committee-men groaned audibly (I should say that we had kept the inmates of the house out of the room during this confession), for the accomplice, it appears, was that committee-man's nephew!—a much-esteemed, industrious young man, led away by the brilliancy, dash, and superior education of the music teacher.
But where was the watch? The teacher told us. Under a barn belonging to his accomplice's father, and not ten rods from his residence, was a place of deposit for such things as they could not readily dispose of. Indeed, they had disposed of but little: there he thought we could find it, and there, next morning, we did.