“You know all about me, superintendent,” the man commenced, and his eyes were fixed upon Walton, as if he alone were present, “and that I have always been a counterfeiter and a crook. I went crooked very young. My father was a man of considerable means, and my brother Lawrence, who was always of a jealous and grasping disposition, worked upon him so that he refused to have anything to do with me. When he died he left all his money to Lawrence and cut me off without a penny. When I escaped from Joliet I determined to make a last appeal to my brother for help. I reached his house late one night and he received me in his library. At first he told me never to enter his house again, but during our conversation he changed his mind, and after he had given me food he said:
“‘Jack, they tell me you are one of the cleverest counterfeiters in the country.’
“I answered that I believed I had that unenviable reputation.
“‘Then here’s a scheme. I’m in a pretty tight hole. I have lost a good deal of money lately in speculation, and I have used some belonging to an estate. I am going to start a factory to make counterfeits. I shall have an office in New York and a factory in New Jersey, where we can work undisturbed and everything will look straight. I have money enough to start the factory and buy all the machinery. After a year we can retire with two fortunes and become respectable. If you have any scruples of conscience I’ll pay your fare back to Joliet.’
“Of course I consented. There was nothing else I could do.
“I fell in love with and married the daughter of my landlady, and when the baby came she was the happiest woman in the world, and I—” Marsh passed his hand across his face and there was a catch in his voice which showed the struggle he was making to remain calm.
“Well, I was determined to quit the whole business and live straight. I told this to Lawrence, and that I wanted my share of the money he was keeping for me. We had a dispute, but settled it by my agreeing to remain another six months.
“Just before the time was up he went to my wife and told her I was an escaped convict, but that he was trying to get things fixed so I need not fear arrest. He warned her not to allow me to go away, as that would be dangerous. She told me all. Then I resolved to end the matter at once. When he next came to the factory he told me that Richald, his stenographer, had discovered what we were doing, and would give the snap away. He said something must be done to close Richald’s mouth until he could close up the factory and clear out. He pretended to be fully as frightened as I was, and I was badly scared, for I did not at last want to be lagged. So I agreed to do whatever he thought best.
“He sent for me to come to New York. It had been arranged that I should go to his office, knock three times on the door, and if the clerks were all gone my brother would open it. After he had done so, he said, in the most cold-blooded way, that Richald would be there in a quarter of an hour; that we must get him to go to the factory, and on the way there, in a lonely spot, shoot him. He would make it appear that Richald had stolen some bonds, and when his body was found it would look like suicide. I told him that, whatever had been my past life, I would not commit murder. He cursed me for a coward, and said he would have me sent back to jail. I defied and left him.”
“Now,” said the superintendent, turning to Richald, “will you tell your story?”