The news of the robbery caused intense excitement in the community. The village policeman together with the county sheriff and his deputies met in conference at the Clark Estate office; knots of people gathered upon the streets in earnest discussion; the village press was busy turning out handbills announcing the robbery and offering a large reward for the apprehension of the thief; the telegraph wires hummed with messages to the police of the state and nation. Next morning Pinkerton detectives arrived under the leadership of George S. Dougherty, afterward deputy police commissioner of the city of New York.
The clues discovered by the detectives were not encouraging. In the office nothing appeared beyond the fact that the box of jewels had been removed from the safe. In the basement the discarded tin box that had contained the casket of jewels lay upon the floor not far from the hatchet with which it had been opened, and the only remarkable circumstance was that the floor all about the empty box was bespattered with blood. The detectives said also that they noticed the frequent appearance of a woman's footprints which were well defined and seemed to encircle the spot where the empty jewel-box lay.
The blood-stains appeared to offer the most serviceable clue, and to account for them three theories were suggested. First: The robber had been caught in the act by someone who had disappeared in pursuit, after one or the other had been wounded in the struggle. Second: There was more than one robber, and there had been a bloody quarrel over the division of the booty. Third: In opening the tin box containing the jewels the robber had cut himself either with the hatchet or with the jagged tin. Since the Bishop, who had been in the building during the robbery, heard no sound of any struggle, the first two theories were abandoned, and the third alone seemed probable. Advices were accordingly telegraphed to the police of various cities to look out for a man with a bandaged hand. For several days thereafter suspicious-looking men in remote parts of the country who had had the misfortune to injure a hand suffered the added misfortune of being detained by the police; but nothing came of it.
In order to aid in the recovery of the property, and to make it difficult for the thief to dispose of it, a description of the stolen jewelry was given out, and summarized as follows: a pearl collar; a diamond bow-knot with pear-shaped pearl pendant; a ring set with two diamonds and a ruby; a ring set with diamond and ruby; a small diamond ring; a solitaire diamond ring; a diamond marquise ring; a ring set with two diamonds crosswise; a diamond bracelet; a diamond and pearl bracelet.
Dougherty the detective had another method of procedure in reserve. He had brought with him to Cooperstown an album containing photographs of the most noted bank-sneaks and yegg-men. After studying the "job" at the Clark Estate office he came to the conclusion that it was the work of a professional, and began to run over in his mind the various crooks who might have planned and carried out a robbery of this particular sort. Many of these were gradually eliminated for one reason or another, until he had narrowed the field to a few suspects. Dougherty then began to make inquiries about the village to learn whether anyone had noticed a stranger loitering in the neighborhood of the Clark Estate offices on the day of the robbery. His search was rewarded by finding several persons who remembered such a stranger. One of them described the loiterer as a man about sixty years old, with "pleasant, laughing eyes." Dougherty already had in mind Billy Coleman, alias Hoyt, alias Grant, alias Holton, alias Houston, a man with an international police record. He produced Coleman's photograph, and the likeness was promptly identified as that of the loiterer. Another who remembered seeing the stranger picked out from the entire gallery of rogues the likeness of Coleman.
Although he had no real evidence against him the detective was now sure of his man, and felt certain that, somewhere in the mazes of New York City, Coleman and the missing jewels would be found. Returning to New York, Dougherty roamed the streets of the city, day and night, looking for Coleman. After two weeks of fruitless search he met one of Coleman's "pals" coming up Eighth Avenue. Acting on the theory that this man would ultimately get in touch with Coleman, the detective determined to keep him in sight. He shadowed him all night, following him from haunt to haunt. The next morning, when Coleman's friend retired to a rooming-house, and asked for a bed, Dougherty put two subordinates on guard, while he himself snatched a few hours of sleep. The detective proved to be upon the right track, for within thirty-six hours the shadowed man joined Billy Coleman.
The suspected thief occupied a flat at 271 West 154th Street. From this time Dougherty or one of his deputies followed every movement of Billy Coleman. Day after day they tracked him through the city from one resort to another. In the evening they followed him home, and kept a watchful eye on the premises. Coleman's actions were provokingly innocent. At nightfall he frequently left home, accompanied by his wife, but only to take their little dog out for an airing. On a Sunday evening while Dougherty was shadowing Coleman and his wife, hoping that they might lead him to some clue to the robbery, he was amazed to see them enter an Episcopal church, where they remained throughout the service. Bishop Potter, to whom Dougherty had confided his suspicions of Coleman, laughed heartily when the detective mentioned this incident.
"Surely, Dougherty, you don't want me to believe that one good churchman would rob another, do you?" the Bishop exclaimed.
Dougherty felt that as the case stood he was making no headway. Coleman, who perhaps realized that he might be under suspicion, made no false moves. The detective resolved upon another plan of action. He decided to have Coleman charged with the robbery and arrested, after which he was certain to be released for lack of evidence. He calculated that an official discharge from any complicity in the stealing of the jewels would so reassure Coleman that he might afterward betray himself, through lack of caution, to watchful detectives. Coleman was accordingly arrested, and held for the grand jury in Cooperstown. The case against him was too weak to stand. The grand jurors were much absorbed in conclusions drawn from the blood-stains found on the floor of the basement of the Clark Estate office, and when it was shown that Coleman bore no sign of scratch or scar they promptly discharged him. Coleman left Cooperstown a free man, and chatted amicably with Dougherty as they rode together on the train to New York. On reaching the city they parted company at the Christopher Street elevated station, and Coleman rode on up town to his home, serenely confident of Dougherty's failure and of his own security.