This accidental meeting, at once supplying a key to the mystery, was one of those misfortunes that so often befall criminals at some point of their guilty career, and even when they imagine themselves perfectly successful, and permanently secure against the possibility of detection.
I must here tell the reader a secret, explanatory of a question that naturally arises, namely, why, with such overwhelming proof in my possession, an arrest was not at once made. It was simply because he would have gone clear before any tribunal, had I depended on the case as it then stood. The bills of the §2000 package were all marked as stated, but unfortunately a large amount, with precisely the same peculiarities, was in circulation at this very time, though not supposed to be in that vicinity. Had the arrest taken place then, and the cashier been summoned to testify on the point of identity, he would have said that he put such bills into the Philadelphia package, but could not have sworn that they were some of the identical notes.
Besides, it was no unimportant part of this difficult business, to effect a return of the funds, as far as possible, to the pockets of the victims of these robberies.
The scarcity of live game in any direction within several miles of Brooklyn, and Pat's supposed want of experience in the use of the "shooting iron," suggested the possibility that his frequent excursions to a neighboring wood had some other object than hunting. Possibly it might be the guarding of his hidden treasures.
Therefore, on a bright October morning, I concluded, if possible, to know more upon this point, and, disguised in the garb of a shabby-looking hunter, with a gun and dog borrowed of a friend for the occasion, I strolled off in the direction in which Pat had so often been in the habit of going. Before fairly reaching the woods, he and two of his companions passed me in a rough-looking vehicle, and soon after turned from the main road into the burial-ground. From a somewhat secluded spot, I could watch their movements tolerably well, and it soon became apparent that at least one of the objects of this trip was to place the marble stones—the payment for which had so singularly betrayed him—at the grave of his deceased child.
The whole party were evidently under the effects of the "critter;" and the prospect seemed to be, that they would soon have occasion to mourn the departure of other beloved spirits, for the jug circulated freely, and a more jolly set of fellows, considering the lugubrious nature of their errand, is seldom met with.
But when they arrived at the spot where the child was sleeping, their mirth grew less boisterous, and Pat in silence commenced his labor of love; and as he proceeded in his melancholy task, I could see that he refused to join his companions in further potations, for although their respect for the place, or for their friend's affliction, seemed to overcome for the time their rum-inspired loquacity, they did not cease to resort to the jug for strength to enable them to bear his
