Fifty Years a Detective: 35 Real Detective Stories

by Thomas Furlong

Meanwhile the brother, a gentleman of leisure, was in the habit of strolling each morning from his house to the postoffice, where he usually mailed several letters. He always dropped these letters in the general receptacle, which had an opening in the main corridor at least a foot in length and three inches wide, and led to a large box in the basement below the main floor. This box would hold probably a wagon load of letters and packages, and when a letter was dropped in this mass it was almost impossible to find it again.

No. 1's brother was a man middle-aged, rather slow in his movements, and very deliberate in everything that he did. He carried these letters in an inside pocket of his dress coat, and walked with a cane. He would approach the general mail box, placing his cane under his left arm and carefully removing his snug-fitting glove from his right hand, would take the letters, consisting of three or more, and in an exasperatingly deliberate and slow manner deposit them in the box with the other mail. He would watch them until they had disappeared down the chute and out of sight. This operation was repeated by him daily, except Sundays, during the three weeks, and witnessed each time by either Herbert or myself, and had grown very tiresome to both of us. Finally I concluded that we would prepare two letters and address them to ourselves, stamp them properly and then cover the back of each envelope with a thick coating of mucilage. Herbert was given one of the letters, I keeping the other. Herbert placed himself on one side of the chute, while I took my position on the other side, each of us being some distance away from the receptacle.

The main corridor of the postoffice, in the forenoon, was generally crowded with people passing to and fro, between the hours of ten and twelve o'clock; for this reason we attracted no special attention. We knew about the time that No. 1's brother was in the habit of visiting the postoffice, and, therefore, we were not kept waiting but a few moments for his appearance. He approached the mail box in his usual manner, and was as painfully deliberate as he had been on previous occasions, and after he had gone through the customary maneuvers, but before he had time to drop the three letters from his hand, Herbert rushed up to the receptacle from the left side and I from the right, and we both reached out our hands at the same time with the letters we held having the mucilaged surface, in such a way that they came in contact with the three letters he had in his hand, and forcing the letters into the chute with ours, the mucilage sticking the bunch of five letters together. All slid into the chute. No. 1's brother became very indignant and muttered something about rudeness and awkwardness. I attempted a hasty apology and disappeared around the corner to the office of the Assistant Postmaster, whose acquaintance I had previously formed. I told him that I had just deposited two letters in the main repository and that I had discovered that I had placed the letters in the wrong envelopes, and wished to get them so that I might rectify my mistake. He at once conducted me to the main mail box below, where there were at least a half a wagon load of letters and general mail matter. I at once found the bunch of five letters which were stuck together with the mucilage, and in separating them had ample time to note the different addresses on the three envelopes mailed by No. 1's brother. One of these was addressed to a relative of Mrs. Dillard, to her home in Tennessee. Another was addressed to another brother of No. 1, who resided in Atlanta, Georgia. The third letter was addressed to J. D. Dillard, Jr., Ocean Springs, Mississippi. I knew of the relatives in Tennessee and of the brother in Atlanta, Georgia, and also that J. D. Dillard, Jr., was the man I wanted to locate, and for the first time learned that he was at Ocean Springs, Mississippi. Ocean Springs was then a small winter resort located on the Louisville & Nashville Railroad, between Montgomery and New Orleans. It was also an harbor on Mobile Bay and near Biloxi, Mississippi.

Upon the receipt of this information I went to Ocean Springs, Miss., arriving there about midnight on the night that I had seen the letter addressed by No. 1's brother to this place. There I found that the postoffice of the town was kept in a grocery store, which was part of the principal hotel of the town. I learned that the landlord, who was a very genial, clever man, and proprietor of the grocery store, was postmaster. I quietly showed him the photograph of No. 1 and his wife, and he immediately identified them as Mr. and Mrs. Dillard, Jr. He told me that Dillard had represented himself to him as a rich iron manufacturer from Chattanooga, Tenn., that his wife was in ill health and that they had been there for the past month or more and had rented a beautiful cottage known as the Montgomery Cottage, where they were living. This cottage was situated on a small peninsula, which extended from the main land, dividing Biloxi Bay from Mobile Bay. It was about two miles from the postoffice at Ocean Springs. The positive and ready manner in which the postmaster identified the photographs satisfied me beyond any doubt that I had succeeded in locating No. 1. I gave the postmaster to understand that No. 1 had fallen heir to a sum of money and property, and that neither he nor his wife had become aware of the fact, and that I was very desirous of apprising him of his good fortune as a surprise, and before doing so, I desired to have all necessary papers prepared, which would require a week or ten days, and, therefore, I was anxious to have the matter kept a profound secret until everything was ready. The postmaster readily promised me that he would not mention the matter to any person until I gave him permission to do so, and after making these arrangements I felt perfectly safe in not arresting No. 1 until I had secured the proper papers authorizing the same.

It was necessary for me to obtain requisition papers from the Governors of Mississippi and Texas. It would take about eight or ten days to accomplish this, as proper complaint had to be lodged at Sherman, Texas, request for the requisition had to be sent from Sherman to Austin, Texas, and the request of the Governor of Texas to the Governor of Mississippi for the extradition papers, at Jackson, Miss., where the agent for the state of Texas had to appear in person to receive the papers. I had myself appointed as the agent for the state of Texas.

At the conclusion of my understanding with the postmaster of Ocean Springs, I took a night train to New Orleans, where I met George Herbert, and instructed him to go on the first train to Ocean Springs, and on arriving there to represent himself as an invalid and to act the part. He was naturally thin and had a sallow complexion, usually without any color.

He represented himself as having just passed through a severe attack of rheumatism, and claimed that he had been advised by his physician to come to Ocean Springs, where he should spend at least a month during his convalescence. He equipped himself with two heavy walking canes, which he carried continuously during his stay at Ocean Springs, and while he made good progress walking, he seemed to bystanders to do so with some difficulty, but the balmy climate of the resort seemed to benefit him greatly, and he appeared to improve daily while there. He was instructed by me to meander around and to get to the Montgomery Cottage, providing, of course, if he could succeed in so doing without arousing any suspicion, and if he did succeed in getting inside of the cottage, that he was to make a diagram of the place and surroundings, which Herbert could do nicely, as he was a good draftsman. He succeeded admirably. He formed the acquaintance of No. 1, whom he met at the postoffice on the second day after his arrival. He also met him again the following day at the same place, when No. 1 gave him an invitation to come over to the cottage and take a sail on the bay, as he (No. 1) had a very nice sailing yacht, which he kept anchored in front of the cottage. Herbert accepted the invitation and visited the cottage the following day, when No. 1 introduced him to his wife, mother-in-law and brother-in-law, who happened to be at the cottage making a visit. He belonged in Tennessee. Herbert was also introduced to a young woman, about thirty years of age, who was rather good-looking, a brunette and of medium size. This woman was introduced to him under an assumed name, as we learned within a few days thereafter that she was really the wife of the missing agent.

Herbert was invited to luncheon at the cottage, and took a short sail with No. 1, No. 1's wife and the brunette lady before mentioned. The yacht was a schooner-rigged, of about twenty tons burden, and was skillfully manned by a man about thirty-five years of age, black curly hair, a little bald, about five feet, five or six inches in height, weighing probably one hundred and thirty or thirty-five pounds, dark complexioned, and inclined to be slender, hollow cheeked, and had somewhat of a consumptive appearance. Herbert was not introduced to this man by his host, but thought nothing of the matter, believing the sailing master, who was always in uniform, to be simply an employe of No. 1.

Herbert made a good diagram of the interior of the cottage, as well as the entrances and the grounds and outbuildings. After that he made daily visits to the cottage, when the weather permitted, the occupants seeming to enjoy and encourage his visits. He had made arrangements with the livery stable for the services of an old, but gentle horse, and an old-fashioned buggy, in which he drove around every day.