In conclusion, I will add that on the morning that I arrested Watts at Shawneetown, I had not the remotest idea of either arresting or attempting to arrest him, as I was alone and in a strange state and had no papers authorizing me to make the arrest, as Sheriff Steele had retained the papers when he became ill at St. Louis. I knew that Watts had never seen me, therefore, he could not possibly know me or my business; but, then the terrible reputation he bore in Pennsylvania would preclude the possibility of almost any sane man attempting to arrest him without what might be considered proper assistance. Knowing that he did not know me, and having an irresistible desire to see this terrible criminal, as I had heard him called, I ventured into his shop merely to get a look at him, believing that I could give him a plausible excuse for my early visit; but when I saw him and that he was entirely unarmed, and he did not really look to be as desperate, or even as powerful a man as he had been described to be to me, I, being armed, instantly concluded I could never expect a more favorable opportunity to arrest him than right then and there, and, as a matter of fact, I found myself carrying out this resolution really before the resolution had been fully formed in my mind. I saw before me the man who was much wanted by the Pennsylvania authorities and believed I could get him then and there, which I did.
SOLVING A TRUNK MYSTERY.
A VERY SLENDER CLUE FASTENS A ROBBERY UPON A BOSOM
FRIEND OF THE VICTIM—THE LOOT RECOVERED.
Early in 1872, while I was Chief of Police of Oil City, Pennsylvania, I was sitting in my office in the City Hall one morning, talking to Col. E. A. Kelley, who was at that time City Comptroller. His office adjoined mine. The colonel was a jolly, good-natured gentleman, middle-aged, very portly, scholarly, and of military bearing. He was a graduate of Annapolis Naval Academy, and had spent a portion of his early life in the United States navy. He had traveled a great deal, and was generally well-informed. He had formed a great liking to me, and took an interest in the police department, and especially in the detection of criminals and the capture of them, and loved to talk with me during our leisure moments relative to that portion of my duties as chief of the department.
We were thus engaged in a pleasant conversation, when two young men, who were probably from twenty-five to twenty-eight years of age, entered the office and inquired of the Colonel for the Chief of Police. Colonel Kelley pointed to me saying, "There is the Chief," and arose to leave the office. I knew that there was no cause for his leaving at the moment, so asked him to remain, feeling that he would be interested in the young men's business with me.
The spokesman of the two said to me that his name was William Brewer, and that he was the superintendent of an oil company which was operating a large number of oil wells on the Blood farm, which was located on Oil Creek, Venango County, Pennsylvania, and about six miles north of Oil City. He stated that his home was in the state of Ohio, near Cleveland, where he had bought a small farm for a home for his parents, who were getting old, and who were now living on this farm. He said that he was earning a fairly good salary, and that he had been saving his money so as to make the annual payment on the farm, as he had made the purchase on the installment plan. His next annual payment of seven hundred dollars, including the interest, would be due in about a week from that date. He had been laying his money away in a trunk, which he kept in his room in the boarding-house. He stated that he had nine hundred dollars in bank notes, which he kept in a large, leather wallet, and which he placed in this trunk. He said that he kept the trunk locked, and on that morning he had occasion to unlock his trunk to take out some clothing, and to his dismay discovered that the wallet and its contents were missing. In answer to my question, he stated that he had found the trunk locked, and apparently intact. I believe I only asked him the one question. He did all the talking, clearly and distinctly, had a good face, and his general manner impressed me very much.
His companion, who looked near enough like him to be a brother, which in fact, I at first judged him to be, had nothing to say. After listening attentively to his story, I was silent for a few moments, and finally asked him how long it would take him to go to his boarding-house and bring his trunk to my office, in exactly the same condition in which he had found it. He replied that as the roads were quite bad he thought he could have the trunk in my office in about four hours. I then explained to him that as his boarding-house was outside of my jurisdiction as Chief of Police, that I really would have no right to go there, but that I would be glad to aid him to the best of my ability; to which he replied that he would bring the trunk to my office as requested, and thanked me for my trouble.
The boys then left the office, and I noticed that they had a horse and buggy, in which they departed. While this conversation was going on between myself and Brewer, Col. Kelley was sitting with his arms folded, intently interested, but silent. When they had gone I returned to my office, and sat down, where the colonel was waiting for me. After I had seated myself and lighted a cigar the colonel said to me, "Tom, why did you ask those boys to bring that trunk here to your office?" I unhesitatingly replied, "Colonel, I don't know." Right here I want to assure the reader that my reply was absolutely the truth. I really had no idea at the time that I asked the young fellow to bring his trunk to my office why I did so, other than that I had seen, while in the company of other Chiefs of Police and detectives, that they, as a rule, invariably cast as much mystery as possible about their work when dealing with people outside of their departments. Neither did I feel at liberty to admit to these young men that I felt incapable of solving the mystery surrounding the disappearance of the money. All of which I explained to the colonel. He laughingly shook his head and said, "Tom, you are a detective, sure enough. You are not candid in this explanation that you have given to me, but I beg your pardon, as it is really presumptuous on my part to ask you such questions. However, I will just wait and watch the outcome, which I believe will be all right." I tried to answer the colonel that I had been candid with him, but it was in vain.
In due time, during the afternoon of the same day, the boys returned to my office, carrying the trunk between them. Col. Kelley was on hand, as he had evidently been watching for them and had seen them as they entered my office. I asked him to be seated, and said to Brewer, "I wish that you would place that trunk in this room in as near the same position as it was in your room at the boarding-house."