Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1895, by H. W. Mudgett, M. D., in the Clerk’s Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. D. C.

Holmes’ Own Story

IN WHICH THE ALLEGED
MULTI-MURDERER AND ARCH CONSPIRATOR
TELLS OF THE
Twenty-two Tragic Deaths and Disappearances
IN WHICH HE IS SAID TO BE IMPLICATED
WITH
Moyamensing Prison Diary Appendix

PHILADELPHIA:
Burk & McFetridge Co.
1895.

Copyright, 1895

PREFACE.

The following pages are written under peculiar circumstances, perhaps the most peculiar that ever attended the birth of a literary work. Incarcerated in prison and awaiting trial for the most serious offense known to the law, it has been written only after mature deliberation, against the advice of my friends, and in direct opposition to the positive instructions of my counsel, who have attempted in every way to dissuade me from its publication; but the circumstances under which I am placed, in my judgment, make it imperative that I should disregard all of these considerations.

For months I have been vilified by the public press, held up to the world as the most atrocious criminal of the age, directly and indirectly accused of the murder of at least a score of victims, many of whom have been my closest personal friends.

The object of this extended and continuous enumeration of alleged crimes has been apparently to create a public sentiment so prejudiced against me as to make a fair and impartial trial impossible. My friends have been alienated, my nearest kindred plunged in grief, and the world horrified by the bloody recital of imaginary crimes.

I feel therefore justified in the course I am now pursuing, and am impelled by an imperative sense of duty to publicly deny these atrocious calumnies. The following pages will therefore be found to contain a simple and complete narrative of my entire life, and a full history of my associations and dealings with Mr. and Mrs. B. F. Pitezel and their children, the alleged disappearance of Minnie Williams and the tragic death of her sister Nannie.

My sole object in this publication is to vindicate my name from the horrible aspersions cast upon it, and to appeal to a fair-minded American public for a suspension of judgment, and for that free and fair trial which is the birthright of every American citizen, and the pride and bulwark of our American Constitution.

H. H. M.

OME with me, if you will, to a tiny, quiet New England village, nestling among the picturesquely rugged hills of New Hampshire. This little hamlet has for over a century been known as Gilmanton Academy. So called in honor of an institution of learning of that name, founded there by a few sturdy, self-denying and God-fearing men, over a hundred years ago, who, could they now leave their silent resting places in the church-yard near by, and again wander for an hour through these quiet streets, would, with the exception of new faces, see little change.

Here, in the year 1861, I, Herman W. Mudgett, the author of these pages, was born. That the first years of my life were different from those of any other ordinary country-bred boy, I have no reason to think. That I was well trained by loving and religious parents, I know, and any deviations in my after life from the straight and narrow way of rectitude are not attributable to the want of a tender mother’s prayers or a father’s control, emphasized, when necessary, by the liberal use of the rod wielded by no sparing hand.

On my fifth birthday I was given my first suit of boy’s clothing, and soon after was sent to the village school-house where the school was “kept.” I had daily to pass the office of one village doctor, the door of which was seldom if ever barred. Partly from its being associated in my mind as the source of all the nauseous mixtures that had been my childish terror (for this was before the day of children’s medicines), and partly because of vague rumors I had heard regarding its contents, this place was one of peculiar abhorrence to me, and this becoming known to two of my older schoolmates, they one day bore me struggling and shrieking beyond its awful portals; nor did they desist until I had been brought face to face with one of its grinning skeletons, which, with arms outstretched, seemed ready in its turn to seize me. It was a wicked and dangerous thing to do to a child of tender years and health, but it proved an heroic method of treatment, destined ultimately to cure me of my fears, and to inculcate in me, first, a strong feeling of curiosity, and, later, a desire to learn, which resulted years afterwards in my adopting medicine as a profession.

When I was about eight years old, an unusual occurrence took place in our village—the arrival of an itinerant photographer. He was a man apparently suffering from some slight lameness, and gladly accepted my offer to act as his errand boy, and in payment for my services he was to execute for me a likeness of myself. One morning upon going to his office I found the door still locked. It was immediately opened, however, by the artist, sufficiently for him to hand to me a small wooden block broken in two pieces. He instructed me to take them to our village wagon maker and have him make a new one, which I was to return to him. I did this, and upon entering the office again, I found the artist partially clothed and sitting near the door, which he at once locked. He then proceeded to remove the greater portion of one of his legs, and not having known until then what was the cause of his lameness, in fact, not ever having seen or even known that such a thing as artificial limbs existed, my consternation can better be imagined than described. Had he next proceeded to remove his head in the same mysterious way I should not have been further surprised. He must have noticed my discomfiture, for as soon as his mending process had sufficiently progressed, he quickly placed me in a dim light, and standing upon his whole leg, and meantime waving the other at me, he took my picture, which in a few days he gave to me. I kept it for many years, and the thin terror-stricken face of that bare footed, home-spun clad boy I can yet see.

In those days in our quiet village, so remote from the outside world, that even a locomotive whistle could scarcely be heard, daily newspapers were rare and almost unknown, our usual source of information being the weekly papers and a few periodicals; and in one of these I saw a glowing offer, emphasized by a fine illustration of a gold watch and chain, a few of which would be sold at a comparatively trifling sum. Surely this was for me the one opportunity of my life, and although my entire wealth at that time consisted mostly of pennies and other small coins, almost every one having for me its own peculiar history, all of which I converted into more transferable shape by exchanging them with our shoemaker, who was also my confidant in the matter, was hardly more than sufficient to buy the watch.

I was far more concerned lest, before my order should reach the distant city, all would be sold, than troubled over the depleted condition of my purse. Then came anxious days of waiting and later the arrival of the watch, and after going alone to my room to wind it and deciding which pocket was most suitable for its reception, and still later going to the several stores and some houses, bargaining beforehand with a little friend that, in consideration of his accompanying me and at each place asking in an unconcerned manner what time it was, that he should wear it the greater part of the day, although I was to be present that no harm befell my treasure; but before it came time for him to wear it the wheels had ceased to turn, the gold had lost its lustre, and the whole affair had turned into an occasion of ridicule for my companions and of self-reproach to myself.

My first falsehood and my first imprisonment occurred synchronously, and were occasioned as follows:—

One morning as I was driving our small herd of cows, which had a few days previously been increased by the addition of several others belonging to a neighbor, to their usual feeding ground, outside the limits of the village, an inquisitive neighbor met me and asked, “Whose be they?” I replied very proudly, “Ours.” “What, all of them?” “Yes, all, everyone, and that best one is mine, my own.” An hour later upon returning to my home I found father waiting to receive me. He demanded why I had told Richard the lie about the cows, but before I could answer him my mind was most effectually taken up by the production of an implement, to which I was no stranger, and by its vigorous use. After this I was consigned to an upper room and strictly enjoined to speak to no one, and for the ensuing day I should have no food. My absence was soon noticed by my playmates and the cause ascertained, and not long after upon looking out of the window I saw my little friend perched upon the fence nearby, looking almost as disconsolate as I, and later in the day, after sundry pantomime communications he came with a liberal supply of food, which, with the aid of the ever present ball of cord, which you can find in almost every boy’s pocket, I was soon enjoying. Accompanying the food was a note written in his scrawly hand encouraging me to “never mind,” and that upon the following Saturday we would go down and let Richard’s cows into his cornfield.

But this was not done, for late at night when the shadows in my room had assumed strange and fearful shapes, my mother came and taking me into her own room, knelt down and earnestly plead with me and for me, and it was many days before I forgot that lesson. This little note, however, with two others form a unique collection. The second was a joint production of my friend and myself, addressed to an unpopular school teacher one vacation upon our hearing that some slight financial calamity had overtaken him. This was done with the belief that a new teacher was to take his place during the coming year, but in this we were mistaken. I had abundant evidence during the first day of the following term that he had received our letter, when he changed my seat from one I had long occupied, and which was very favorably located for looking into the street, to the opposite side of the room. My seatmate was a very disagreeable and unpopular girl.

The third note was also a joint production, written upon brown paper and tacked upon the barn door of a village farmer, who had, as we thought, misused us. It was not a lengthy note, the words being “Who will pull your weeds next year?” This note was occasioned by the farmer engaging us for a stipulated price to rid a field of a large weed that is common there, and a great hindrance to the healthy growth of other products. The weeds were tall and strong, and the pittance we were to receive was ridiculously small for the amount of work. But when we had finished and held out our tiny, blistered hands for our pay, it was not forthcoming. We went again and again for it, and being convinced it was useless to go more, we returned quietly with two large baskets to where we had piled the weeds, to be dried preparatory to their being burned, and very soon thereafter the seeds from all that we had pulled were sown broadcast over the field again. It is, perhaps, a small matter to speak of here, but it so well illustrates the principle that many times in my after life influenced me to make my conscience become blind, that I thought well to write of it.

My first business ventures consisted of a pair of twin calves that I raised, and later to bring home, on a stormy winter day, a tiny lamb given to me by a farmer, which, in time, together with a few others purchased later, expanded into a flock of about forty sheep. Both ventures were failures, however, from a financial point of view, but the failures were nothing compared with the collapse of the innumerable air castles which had depended upon the result of these speculations.

One day I found a purse containing about $40; an immense sum at that time to me. In the purse were other papers showing me plainly who the owner was. I know that I hesitated, but only for a moment; and having made up my mind could not too soon return it to its owner, and because I had hesitated was adverse to receiving the reward offered me.

When I was about nineteen years of age (the preceding years having been filled in for the most part with six to nine months each year of preparatory studies and the balance of the time devoted to work and teaching) I was prepared to enter the Dartmouth College, but instead of doing so, I decided to commence a medical course at once, and, with this object in view, I matriculated at the University of Vermont, at Burlington, where I remained one college year, deciding, before it had expired, to complete my course at some larger college, and the following September found me at Ann Arbor, Mich. After having paid my college fees, bought my books and other articles necessary for my second year in college, I found myself hundreds of miles away from friends and relatives, and with about $60 in money with nine months of hard study before me, allowing but little time for outside work if I wished to keep up in my studies with the other members of my class.

About this time I first became acquainted with a Canadian, a fellow-student, and from then until the time of his death he was one of the very few intimate friends I have ever allowed myself.

The limits of this book will not allow me to write the many quaint and some ghastly experiences of our medical education were I otherwise disposed to do so. Suffice it to say, that they stopped far short of desecration of country graveyards, as has been repeatedly charged, as it is a well-known fact that in the State of Michigan all the material necessary for dissection work is legitimately supplied by the State. At the end of my junior year I entered into an agreement with a fluent representative of a Chicago firm to spend my vacation in the northwest portion of Illinois representing his firm as a book agent. In this venture I committed the first really dishonest act of my life.

The firm as well as the book itself, from the sale of which I had been assured I could earn hundreds of dollars during my vacation, was a fraud, and after the most strenuous efforts, having succeeding in selling a sufficient number to defray my expenses and pay my return fare to Ann Arbor, I came back without making a settlement with the firm there, and for the remainder of my vacation earned what money I could in and about the college city.

I could hardly count my Western trip a failure, however, for I had seen Chicago.

The remainder of my medical course differed very little from the first two years; filled perhaps more completely with hard work and study, and almost wholly devoid of pleasure and recreation. At last, however, in June, 1884, our examinations were passed, our suspense was ended and I left Ann Arbor with my diploma, a good theoretical knowledge of medicine, but with no practical knowledge of life and of business. After taking a vacation of less than one week in my old New Hampshire home, I went to Portland, Maine, and engaged with a large business firm of that city to represent them in Northern New York in the sale of their products; my prime object being to find some favorable location in this way where I could become a practitioner. Such an opening was not easily found, however, and I accepted a winter school to teach at Mooers Forks, N. J., and later opened an office in that village. Here I stayed for one year doing good and conscientious work, for which I received plenty of gratitude but little or no money, and in the fall of 1885 starvation was staring me in the face, and finally I was forced to sell first one and then the last of my two horses, and having done this I resolved to go elsewhere before all of my means were again exhausted.

During my long years there in New York I had abundant time to work out the details of a scheme that my University friend, before referred to, and myself had talked over during our hungry college days as a possible last resort in case our medical practice proved a failure; and from certain letters I had received from him, I judged that he, too, had not found all his hardships at an end upon receiving his diploma. I therefore went to where he was located, and found that though his experience had been less disheartening than my own, it had from a pecuniary standpoint been far from successful. During this visit we carefully planned the following method of obtaining money:—

At some future date a man whom my friend knew and could trust, who then carried considerable life insurance, was to increase the same so that the total amount carried should be $40,000; and as he was a man of moderate circumstances he was to have it understood that some sudden danger he had escaped (a runaway accident) had impelled him to more fully protect his family in the future. Later he should become addicted to drink, and while temporarily insane from its use should, as it would appear afterwards, kill his wife and child.

In reality they were to go to the extreme West and await his arrival there at a later date. Suddenly the husband was to disappear, and some months later a body badly decomposed and dressed in the clothing he was known to wear was to be found, and with it a statement to the effect that while in a drunken rage he had killed his family and had shipped their dismembered bodies to two separate and distant warehouses to conceal the crime, first having partially preserved the remains by placing them in strong brine. That he did not care to live longer, and that his property and insurance should pass to a relative whom he was to designate in this letter.

At the proper time he was to join his family in the West, and remain there permanently, the relative collecting the insurance, a part of which was to be sent to him, a part to be retained by the relative, and the remainder to be divided between us. This scheme called for a considerable amount of material, no less than three bodies in fact. This difficulty was easily overcome, however, so long as it was supposed that they were needed for experimental purposes, but no doctor could call for three bodies at one time without exciting suspicion, and so it was arranged that I was to go to Chicago for the winter, and some time during the intervening months we should both contribute toward the necessary supply. I reached Chicago in November, 1885, but finding it difficult to obtain satisfactory employment, I went to Minneapolis, where I spent the winter in a drug store as a clerk. Meantime, my friend had promptly obtained his portion and placed it in the storage in Delaware, from which place it was shipped to me later in Chicago. I remained in Minneapolis until May, 1886, when I returned to Chicago. My own life I had insured meantime for $20,000, which, at a later date, I intended to realize upon. I had prior to this time made arrangements to furnish my portion of the material. After reaching Chicago, certain sudden changes in my plans called me hastily to New York City, and I decided to take a part of the material there and leave the balance in a Chicago warehouse. This necessitated the repacking of the same, and to accomplish this I went to a hotel (May, 1886), where I registered under an assumed name, and occupied a room and had the package, which had been shipped from Detroit, taken there, and carefully removing the carpet from one portion of the room I divided the material into two packages. In doing this the floor became discolored.

Later, one of these packages was placed in the Fidelity Storage Warehouse in Chicago, and the other I took with me to New York and placed it in a safe place. Upon my trip from Chicago to New York I read two accounts of the detection of crime connected with this class of work, and for the first time I realized how well organized and well prepared the leading insurance companies were to detect and punish this kind of fraud, and this, together with a letter I received upon reaching my destination, and the sudden death of my friend, caused all to be abandoned.

Soon after leaving New York I came to Philadelphia, where I sought employment in some drug store where I could hope to become either a partner or an owner. Not finding such an opportunity at once I took a situation as a keeper in the Norristown Asylum. This was my first experience with insane persons, and so terrible was it that for years afterwards, even now sometimes, I see their faces in my sleep. Fortunately within a few days after entering the Asylum I received word that I could obtain different employment in a drug store on Columbia avenue, which I at once accepted. About July 1st, one afternoon, a child entered the store and exclaimed, “I want a doctor! The medicine we got here this morning has killed my brother (or sister).” I could remember of no sale that morning corresponding to the one she hastily described, but I made sure that a physician was at once sent to the house, and having done this I hastily wrote a note to my employer, stating the nature of the trouble, and left the city immediately for Chicago, and it was not until nine years later that I knew the result of the case.

Later, when it became necessary to disprove the alarming statements that were made relative to various persons having been killed at 701 Sixty-third street, I placed in the proper authorities’ hands a full collection of documentary evidence, consisting of railroad and storage warehouse receipts, letters, references and dates sufficient to show the truthfulness of my statements.

Upon reaching Chicago I found I could obtain no employment as a druggist until I had passed an examination at Springfield, Ill., and when I went there for that purpose I gave my name as H. H. Holmes, and under this name I have since done most of my business. Later, in July, 1886, I went to 701 Sixty-third street, Chicago, where I found a small store owned by a physician, who, owing to ill-health, wished to sell badly. A little later I bought it, paying for it for the most part with money secured by mortgaging the stock and fixtures, agreeing to repay this loan at the rate of $100 per month. My trade was good, and for the first time in my life I was established in a business that was satisfactory to me.

But very soon my landlord, seeing that I was prospering well, made me aware that my rent would be increased, and to protect myself I was forced to purchase at a great expense the vacant property opposite the location I then occupied, and to erect a building thereon. Here my real troubles commenced. The expense incurred was wholly beyond the earning capacity of my business, and for the next few years I was obliged to plunge deeply in debt in every direction; and, worse than this, when these debts became due, if unable to meet them to resort to all means of procuring a stay or evading them altogether. At last there came a day when Thomas Fallon, a constable, together with a lawyer named Sanforth, both of Chicago, came to my store to attach the same to satisfy the claim of some impatient creditor. And during the appraisal of the goods they came and asked me the contents of two small barrels.

I gave them some misleading answer, and bringing out other goods to attract their attention, they were passed for the time being. They were the two packages I had arranged more than a year before at a certain hotel, and which had been removed from the storehouses in Chicago and New York, first to my former store, and later to the new one.

As soon as possible after this attachment took place, I resolved to permanently dispose of both these packages, and to do so, I opened the smaller of them and commenced its destruction by burning in a large furnace, then in the basement. The experience was so unpleasant, owing to the terrible odor produced, that I did not think it safe to destroy more of it in the same way, and therefore buried the remainder of that package, as well as the fragments that were partially burned, in the places where they have lately been found.

The other package was removed, unopened, from the building, and so disposed of that it is hardly probable it will ever be found, and I do not feel called upon to bring it forth, as it would only serve to add more newspaper notoriety to the case.

If, however, my life is ever jeopardized, or my other statements discredited owing to want of additional proof in this matter, I shall at once cause it to be produced, and my so doing will result in showing that the portions therein contained are parts of the two bodies already found, and more important still that the package thus brought to light has necessarily occupied its present location for nearly seven years.

This will be corroborated by documentary evidence, freight, express and warehouse receipts, letters, etc., already in the hands of the authorities, together with evidence from workmen, if still alive and to be found.

Early in 1888, needing some extra carpenters, there came to me, in response to an advertisement, a tall, thin, muscular man, whom, at the time, I took to be a farmer from the Western plains.

BENJAMIN F. PITEZEL.

He assured me, however, that he was a carpenter, able to do as much and as good work as anyone else, that his name was Benjamin F. Pitezel, that he had a large family, was badly in need of work for their support and begged me to give him a trial. This I did, but soon found him to be a dreamer.

Coming to him at his work I would find him with a set of figures and perhaps a diagram illustrative of their use, or busy making a model of some complicated contrivance. This proceeded so far that for my own protection I had to cause him to work by contract instead of by the day, although I found him fully as improvident of his own time as he had been of mine. Little by little I grew to like his quiet ways, and to depend upon him to take charge of the work at times when I was obliged to be absent, and one day I said to him, “Ben, with all your mechanical ingenuity you should have been a rich man before now. How is it?” His answer was that heretofore the world had not seemed to be inclined to be kind to him. This seemed so aptly to describe my own case, that I talked with him further from time to time, and a summary of what I learned was as follows:—

He, like myself, had been a country-bred boy, knowing few pleasures, but, unfortunately, receiving few school advantages. At a comparatively early age he had married and commenced life as a farmer in Illinois or Indiana. Later he had moved to Kansas, and, later still, had been forced to leave that State owing to some legal trouble with a bank there, to which he had given a worthless mortgage to secure a loan in money. After leaving Kansas he had wandered through the Western States, principally in the gold regions, and finally had settled in Chicago with his family, which, while he traveled, had remained in Kansas. Very soon after reaching Chicago he had commenced working for me, and from that time until September 2, 1894, when he died, he was continually in my employ, working as a carpenter and builder, and as a real estate dealer and as a wholesale lumber merchant, buying and shipping lumber from the South and West to Chicago and St. Louis, where I also sold the same products.

I think it was in 1889 that I was one day waited upon by two gentlemen who wished to sell me a gas machine, by using which I could be forever independent of the regular city gas company. So great were the inducements held out that I later met them at their office in La Salle street, and before leaving them had bought one of the machines, which a few days later was arranged in the basement of my building, and I had notified the city company that thereafter I should cease to be one of their patrons. For two days the new machine performed wonders, and I recommended it to many of my customers and friends. The third evening when I was very busy my store was suddenly enveloped in darkness. I was obliged to turn away my customers and close for the want of light, and from then until morning I wrestled with my gas machine; and when Pitezel came to his day’s work he found me still perspiring, and, I fear, swearing over it.

The machine was to him as a new toy to a child, although he soon assured me that as a gas producer it was an absolute failure. That afternoon I instructed him to temporarily connect it with the city gas to provide light for the evening, and next day I would go to the company and make a new application to again become a permanent customer. As he finished making the connection he remarked that he thought that it would be a good permanent arrangement without going to the gas company. His quiet remark resulted in my having him, next day, lead the gas from the city main to the machine underground in such a way that it would not be known without a close inspection, and this I did, not to defraud the city, but “to get even” with the company who had defrauded me. A few evenings thereafter the president of this company called upon me, and, after quietly studying my new light for a time, spoke to me of it.

I then told him that I had bought his machine for the purpose of trying a new gas that for years I had been experimenting with. Several other visits followed, and although I was apparently averse to disposing of my new discovery, I finally did so, taking in return first a contract so skillfully worded that there could later be no claims brought against me, and, second, a check for a large sum of money. Had matters stopped here as I had at first intended, all would have been well, but I neglected disconnecting from the city supply from day to day, until finally an inspector, more energetic than his fellow-workers, became aware of it, and this resulted in my very willingly choosing to pay a five hundred dollar gas bill in preference to being openly written up and perhaps prosecuted.

There have occurred other deals of a somewhat similar nature, and generally inspired by the same motive, but this one suffices as an example of those that occurred later. Sometime previous to this I had had occasion to employ an attorney to transact some business in which certain papers had to be signed in my New Hampshire name, and to do this work I employed one I did not know in order that my real name should not be confounded with the name of Holmes, under which I had been known and had done all my work since commencing business in Chicago.

About a year after consulting this attorney, I was called into court as a witness on some trivial case, and while giving my testimony under the name of Holmes, I saw him sitting in the court room apparently much mystified. Instead of denouncing me to the court, as he might easily have done, he spoke to me alone, and, later, feeling he had done me a most kind favor I gave to him the greater part of my legal work; but though he attended to this conscientiously for me as an attorney, he at no time encouraged me to acts that were wrong, nor was he a party to them, and the late newspaper comments reflecting upon his integrity are most unjust and uncalled for.

Aside from this one incident I know of no time during the nine years prior to my arrest that my two names conflicted the one with the other, or caused me trouble or annoyance.

In 1890 I added a jewelry store to my business, and placed Julius L. Connor in charge of that and my drug business, his wife, Julia Connor, assisting him as cashier for a time, who, after the sale of the store, lived in the building and supported herself and child by taking boarders. That she is a woman of quick temper and perhaps not always of a good disposition may be true, but that any of her friends and relatives will believe her to be an immoral woman, or one who would be a party to a criminal act, I do not think. She lived for her child, and her one fear was that she should lose her, and as soon as the daughter is of sufficient age to protect herself, I feel that her whereabouts will be made known. I last saw her about January 1, 1892, when a settlement of her rent was made. At this time she had announced not only to me, but to her neighbors and friends, that she was going away.

At this interview she told me that, while she had given her destination as Iowa, she was going elsewhere to avoid the chance of her daughter being taken from her, giving the Iowa destination to mislead her husband. I corresponded with her upon business matters later, and the so-called secreted letters lately found could only have been obtained from my Chicago letter files, in which hundreds of my business letters were stored away in alphabetical order.

In 1890 I opened an office on Dearborn street, Chicago, and organized “The Warner Glass-Bending Co.,” the principal value of which consisted in certain not very clearly-defined ideas I possessed upon the subject of bending glass for mechanical purposes. This was a stock company, in which I had interested, among others, Osmer W. Fay, a most reputable and honest man (a retired minister), of whom I will speak later in this history. Suffice it to say here that, when I found that he had invested the principal part of his savings in my company, knowing that it would not be a successful business venture to others, save myself, I returned to him his investment with interest. At this time Pitezel was in the same office with me, selling an invention he had lately patented, known as “Pitezel’s Automatic Coal Bin.” I later established him in an office by himself, where he opened a patent exchange similar to the one he was conducting in Philadelphia at the time of his death.

At about this time, Patrick Quinlan, a whole-souled Irishman, had left his farm in Michigan to come to the city to work during the winter months, and commenced his service with me. He soon became almost indispensable, owing to his careful management and supervision of help and general faithfulness, and for several years he worked for me continually, though during that time he did no illegal act nor committed any wrong so far as I know.

Early in 1891 I became interested in one of the most seductive and misleading inventions that has ever been placed before the American public; a device known as the “A B C Copier,” which had been brought to this country from Europe by a prominent official of the World’s Fair.

He had been swindled in its purchase, and, knowing this, was very willing to dispose of one-half interest in the invention to me for $9,000 worth of “securities.” A company was immediately formed, and by using his name freely as the president of same, we were able to make over $50,000 worth of contracts for future delivery before our offices had been open sixty days, numbering among our customers many large insurance companies and prominent wholesale houses.

However, I was glad to sell my interests, clearing about $22,000 in cash upon the entire deal. It was at this time, while employing quite a large office force, that Mr. J. L. Connor asked me to give his sister Gertrude some work to do. Instead of doing so at once I told him I would aid him in furnishing her with the means to take a short course in a business college, and if later she proved proficient, I would give her employment. Shortly after her commencing to attend this business college, she received an offer of marriage from a young clerk in Chicago. She spoke to us of it, and asked us to learn, if we could, of the antecedents of the young man and of his prospects. Our investigation resulted in learning that he had a wife living in Chicago. Gertrude was inclined to disbelieve this statement, and not expressing herself as being willing to break the engagement, Mr. Connor thought best to send her to her home in Iowa. A statement from the physician who attended her at the time of her death, long after this, speaks for itself, effectually disproving one of the most persistent and disagreeable charges that have been brought against me. I have had many young ladies in my employ, most of whom are still living in and about Chicago, whose parents and friends know only too well that far from being their seducer I have done much to materially help them in their narrow lives, owing to the enormous competitions in Chicago for positions.

At about this time I sent Pitezel South upon an extended lumber purchasing trip, and upon his return to Chicago he encountered some severe domestic troubles, the full details of which he did not tell me until long afterwards. But at the time they resulted in a neighborhood quarrel and some arrests, and thereafter he grew more morose, and drank more freely than he had done heretofore, but managed to do so during my absence or after working hours, as he knew me to be wholly intolerant of drunkenness in my employees.

It was about January 1, 1893, when I first met Minnie R. Williams at the intelligence office of Mr. William Campbell on Dearborn street, Chicago, whom she had engaged to provide her with a position as stenographer.

EMELINE CIGRAND.

I found her to be a bright, intelligent woman, an interesting conversationalist and one who I could see had seen much of the world. When she had been working in my office for a few weeks, knowing that she had a history, I asked her one stormy winter afternoon to tell it to me. After considerable hesitation she did so, in nearly the following words:—

“My earliest remembrance is of a poor home in the South. My father was a drunkard and my poor mother was not strong. One terrible day my father was brought to us dead, and very soon after this mother’s strength seemed to leave her utterly, and she soon followed him, leaving me, a tiny child, together with a still younger sister and a baby brother, to the tender mercies of the world. An aunt in Mississippi took my sister to live with her, and another relative cared for brother, and an uncle, a physician, adopted me.

“During the short time he lived he was a loving and tender father to me, and at his death willed to me all of his possessions. A guardian was appointed to care for me, but I was not again happy until years later, when Mr. Massie was appointed to take his place, and since then I have looked upon him and his wife as my parents.

“When I was 17 years old I was sent to Boston to finish my education at the Conservatory of Music. At first, after leaving my warm Southern home, I nearly died from homesickness, and you will not wonder that having met at some place of entertainment in Boston a young gentleman, and having found that he was an honest clerk, occupying a position where he could hope for advancement, I allowed him to address me, and later became engaged to him.

“Soon after the engagement he introduced me to a gentleman who is prominently known throughout the New England States. He is much older than myself.

“From the first time I met him he seemed to exert a powerful influence over me. I loved his wife, and my visits to her made a pleasant break in the tedium of my school work, but as soon as he came home, or I was in his company, I was ill at ease, my mind being filled with an indefinable presentiment of evil. I avoided meeting him alone upon all occasions when it was possible for me to do so, but he would often insist upon accompanying me to my home, and this, owing to their continued courtesies to me, I could not well refuse. All too soon there came a day when I could no longer look into the eyes of either my lover or of those of my betrayer, and for more than a year thereafter I was wholly under the influence of my seducer; so much so, that any and all good resolutions I would make during his absence would vanish upon meeting him again, and my life became one of mental torture to me, for by nature I was a pure-minded girl.

“Our meetings for the most part took place at a hotel near his place of business, a portion of which was available for meetings of this kind, so long as the parties were known to the manager.

“During the year I broke my engagement with my lover, and by so doing apparently deserved his reproaches for heartlessness, although if he could have known it my motive was of an entirely different nature. As though my burden had not at this time been sufficiently heavy for me to bear, about the end of this year I became aware that another and still more terrible calamity was in store for me.

“For days I sat in my room until it seemed I should go mad, and fearing lest I should utterly lose my reason I decided to kill myself, but no one realizes how dear life is until, thinking it worthless, they have tried to destroy it.

“I could not do it, and there was nothing left for me to do but to go quietly away in a strange place, under a different name, and bear my shame.

“I went to New York, engaged board under the name of Adele Covell, in a quiet portion of the city.

“Physically, I had never been strong, and now followed days and weeks of serious illness until, to save my reason, the life of my unborn child was sacrificed. As soon as I was able I returned to my Texas home, accounting as best I could for my terribly haggard appearance.

“Later, feeling that there was left little that I could do, and being wholly reckless of my future, I prepared for the stage, and for three years I was almost continually before the public. Becoming somewhat ambitious I organized a company, and for a time traveled through the New England towns and small cities under the name of Geraldine Wande.

“This venture cost me between five and ten thousand dollars, and in 1891 I went to Denver, Colorado, as a member of a theatrical company then playing a prominent engagement. There I staid until the burning of the theatre, which caused my engagement to end, and not being able to find another suitable opening, I decided to prepare myself for office work.

“Unfortunately, while in Denver, I attracted the attention of a young man engaged to be married to a lady whom I knew and liked, and rather than to cause them trouble I decided to go elsewhere, though against the wishes of the young man, who, if I had allowed it, would have married me. At about this time my brother, whom I had never seen much of, was killed, or rather died, as the result of a railroad accident at Leadville, Colorado, leaving sister Nannie, who is now teaching in Nudlothean, Texas, and to me, about $400 each, payable about one year after his death.

“I went to Leadville to attend his funeral, and later came here to Chicago, where, until I obtained my position with you, I have been at times really in need of money, as owing to my unfortunate theatrical venture all my ready money has been used, and I now have left only one piece of good real estate in Fort Worth, Texas, valued at $6,000 but encumbered for $1,700.

“A piece of land adjoining my property, of which Mr. Massey has recently written me, can be sold by him for $2,500, besides paying a heavy mortgage standing against it.

“I have also one small, unimproved lot near Dallas, Texas, worth about $200.”

During the spring of 1893 I was, if possible, more busy than ever before.

Among other work, preparing my building to rent to a prospective tenant, who would use the entire five stories and forty rooms, at a good rental, if I could get it completed in time for World’s Fair purposes.

This left me with little time to attend to my office duties, which gradually Miss Williams took more and more into her own hands, showing a remarkable aptitude for the work. During the first weeks she boarded at a distance, but later, from about the 1st of March until the 15th of May, 1893, she occupied rooms in the same building and adjoining my offices.

Here occasionally meals were served from the restaurant near at hand, and if any bones have really been found in the stove there I think it will later be learned, by microscopical examination, that they are the remnants of such meals. Certain it is that no human being was ever cremated there during my occupancy of the room, my own experience years ago being quite sufficient to show me the danger of such proceedings on account of the awful odor, if I had no other motive to deter me from such a course.

About the first of April I dictated quite a number of urgent letters to parties who were owing me, requesting them to make immediate settlement of their accounts, as I was much in need of the money at this time. Some days later Minnie brought me a draft for about $2,500 and asked me to use it until she should need it, explaining that this was the proceeds of the Texas sale she had previously spoken to me about. I could make good use of the money at that time, but declined to take it until I had explained to her, at some length, more of my business affairs than she had before known. And, finally, I caused to be transferred to her, by warranty deed, a house and lot at Wilmette, Ill., valued at about $7,500, in order that she should be well protected against loss in case of my death.

This money was returned to her about May 10, 1893, from money obtained for this purpose from Isaac R. Hitt & Co., Chicago, who paid it to Miss Williams personally. At about this time she expressed a wish that I should aid her in converting her remaining Southern property into either cash or improved Northern property. This was hard to do, and I finally advised her to execute a worthless deed (by having some one other than herself sign same) to a fictitious person and offer the property for sale at a very low cash figure, and years later, if she chose to do so, to demand an additional sum in exchange for the good deed.

This was done, forging the name upon the deed so made, which deeds are still in existence. When matters had progressed thus far in our various transactions, Miss Williams was taken seriously ill for several days at the house where we were stopping at the time. She suffered from the same form of acute mania that she had been troubled with in New York years before. She was under restraint at this hotel a few days about May 22d, but owing to careful nursing and good medical attendance, she soon became so much better that she could plan intelligently with me what steps were best to be taken for her safety.

It was decided that she should go to the Presbyterian Hospital, near the Clybourne avenue car limits in Chicago, to stay until I could determine if she were in further danger. She entered this institution about May 23, 1893, as a private patient, and her ailment being such that it was prudent for her to pass for a married woman, she was enrolled upon the records there as Mrs. Williams.

The greatest drawback to her improvement here was the fact that she knew she was in an asylum with other insane persons, and she soon begged me to take her to some private apartments where she could receive special attention. To accomplish this, I hired a house at 1220 Wrightwood avenue, and early in June accompanied Miss Williams there, and during my absences she was in care of a young woman hired for this purpose.

Here she rapidly improved, and during the following months exhibited only once any maniacal symptoms, when, owing to some trivial disagreement with her attendants, she so frightened her that she left at once. At this time Miss Williams first spoke of inviting her sister to spend the summer and fall months with us, and in response to a letter Nannie came from Texas. I met her at the train and found her to be a remarkably quiet and gentle woman—apparently not very strong—certainly of a most kindly disposition. The sisters had never lived together for any considerable length of time, and they anticipated much pleasure in the society of each other. Minnie had asked that it should appear to her sister that we were married, and also that nothing should be said of her recent illness, which she now, day by day, seemed to be overcoming.

NANNIE WILLIAMS.

I cannot imagine a happier, quieter life than they passed there during the month of June and the first part of July, 1893. I was extremely busy in the city, but was at the house whenever I could conveniently arrange it. Minnie had so far recovered as to attend to several business matters and to aid me in my writing. Among other things, arrangements were made to convert her own and her sister’s interests in her brother’s estate into money, and to commence certain preliminary proceedings that would ultimately cause her betrayer in Boston to pay her a considerable sum, and, to make this easier, it was thought wise that she obtain some evidence in support of her claim by wiring to him for a small amount of money.

This was done, and to this telegram he promptly responded by sending to her, by wire, $100. At the time it came to the Western Union office she was not feeling well enough to go there for it, and I executed the proper papers, signing her name in her stead, and next day, to more fully protect her attorney in the matter, she executed a supplementary receipt in her own name. Later in the year it was her intention to return to Boston and go further with the matter. Late in June, upon returning one day from my business in the city, I met and was introduced by Miss Williams to a Mr. Edward Hatch, whom she had formerly known during her theatrical life (he was at that time attending the Columbian Exposition at Chicago). A few evenings later he accompanied Minnie, Nannie and myself to the Exposition.

Early in July it became necessary for Miss Williams to leave the city for a day, and before doing so she asked that I come home early and not allow Nannie to remain alone during the evening and night. I went with Miss Williams to the cars, and later accompanied her sister as far as the business portion of the city, upon her way to spend the day at the Exposition. That evening I returned to the house at about 6 o’clock, and soon after Nannie also returned. During the previous weeks of Miss Williams’ illness, I had been unable to be away from the house at night, and wishing to go out that evening I asked Nannie if she would mind staying in the rooms alone, explaining to her that there were two other families in the house. She replied that she would have no fear, and that being so tired from her day’s exertions among the crowds, she felt sure that she would sleep all night.

This being arranged I went away, agreeing to call on my way to the city next morning, and asking her if her sister returned before I did to refrain from telling her I had staid elsewhere, giving to Nannie as my reason for this that her sister would feel annoyed at my leaving her alone. Next morning I reached the house at about 8.30 o’clock, and shortly before Miss Williams returned.

Being in haste to reach the city I welcomed her, and almost immediately bade them both good-bye, and taking my bicycle from the hall started down the street. At this time both sisters were standing within the doorway of the house.

Quite early in the afternoon, upon returning, I was surprised to notice the shades at the windows closely drawn. Entering the hall and passing from thence into the parlor, I was greeted by Miss Williams screaming to me:—

“Is that you? My God! I thought you would never come. Nannie is dead!”

She was seated upon the floor holding her sister’s head in her arms, rocking back and forth and moaning, much as a mother would over a child that was dying or dead. I did not believe it at first—I made no effort to do so—looking upon it as one of the jokes which, when well, she so liked to indulge in, but a moment later I noticed the disordered condition of the room, and as my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, Miss Williams’ terrified face, which good actress though she was, I knew she could not so successfully counterfeit.

Showing room where Nannie Williams was killed.

I was alarmed and instantly was upon my knees beside them, to find to my horror that Nannie had probably been dead for hours. By this time Miss Williams seemed almost as lifeless as her sister, and half leading, half carrying her, I took her to her room and did all I could to restore her, but it was hours before she was in a condition that would allow of her giving me an intelligent account of what had taken place during my absence.

In the meantime I had carried Nannie to my own room, where she lay, looking more like one asleep than dead. The only mark of violence discernible being a slight discoloration upon one of her temples, from which a small quantity of blood had apparently flowed.

Later, in answer to my questions, I gained the following knowledge:—

Upon my leaving the house in the morning, Miss Williams had seized her sister by the arm and ran romping with her through the rooms to the dining room, and without waiting to remove her hat had sat down at the table and drank some coffee, talking to Nannie the while. She had asked her what time I had reached the house the preceding evening, to which question Nannie answered that she did not know, as I was at home when she had herself returned, thus giving the impression that I had been there during the night.

After finishing her lunch, Minnie had passed into her own room, had exchanged her street costume for a house dress, and then, in going to the front portion of the house, had passed through my room, and in doing so had noticed that it had not been occupied during the night.

With this one thought in her disordered mind she had rushed into the adjoining room where her sister then sat, and in a voice, which only the very few who have been intimately acquainted with Miss Williams can appreciate and understand the tragedy of, had said:

“You devil! You have stolen my husband from me.”

At the same time she had struck her sister with a small foot-stool, causing her to fall to the floor, where, with hardly a struggle, she had ceased to breathe.

Miss Williams had, at the first moment, run to the lower portion of the house for assistance, but the people being absent for the time being, she had returned, and at first thinking her sister had only fainted, had resorted to all the means of which she knew to resuscitate her. She soon found her efforts useless, and from then until I had arrived, had remained in the position in which I found her.

After this came the terrible question of what steps should be taken. It is useless for me to speak now of what should have been done. What was finally decided upon is as follows:—

I first wished to call in the authorities and explain fully, and also have it known that at the moment the act was committed Miss Williams was not accountable for what she had done. She would not listen to this. Next, I suggested that it should appear that death had resulted from an accidental fall, but to any and all propositions that necessitated a court investigation she would hear nothing, begging me to go to Englewood, and with Patrick Quinlan’s aid take the body to some quiet place and bury it.

Finding that the discussion was worrying her into another serious condition, I gave her some medicine, and as soon as I could do so safely, I left her, intending to go to Englewood, and did go as far as Twenty-second street.

There were some reasons why this last mentioned course would have been advantageous, as it was not generally known that I was living with Miss Williams as her husband; and those who did know of it did not know my identity, and to have this matter known, as well as the death of her sister under such distressing circumstances, would have occasioned an amount of notoriety that would have been ruinous to me.

But as I rode towards Englewood, I could see good reasons for not using Quinlan in the matter. His loyalty to me was such that I should not have feared his making it public, but I did not think I had a right to burden him with so terrible a secret.

In fact, it was by never asking him to do any act that he could be held accountable for or that would jeopardize his property that the loyal feeling had been caused to exist.

Leaving the cars at Twenty-second street, I returned to the house, finding Miss Williams still asleep; later we clothed her sister in a light dress she had liked to wear, and taking the large trunk she had brought with her from Texas, I placed her therein as carefully as I could.

No funeral rites were observed; no prayers were said, for I felt that from either of us such would have been a mockery. I also took her small, well-worn Bible (this without Miss Williams’ knowledge) and later consigned it with her to her last resting place, which was all I felt at liberty to do. I then went to a livery stable and obtained a covered conveyance, stopping upon my return at the car barns near by, where there were many workmen waiting to take the cars. I engaged one of them to accompany me to the house and help me place the trunk in the carriage.

I then drove to the lake-side, and waited until night had fallen, making it appear to parties noticing me, if any, that I was awaiting the return of some belated boating party. Afterwards, I procured a boat at some distance, and took it near my waiting place, and still later, with considerable difficulty, I placed the trunk in it, and proceeded about one mile from the shore.

There in the darkness, passed beyond the sight of this world, into the ever grasping depths of Lake Michigan, all that was mortal of this beautiful Christian girl; but from my sight it has never passed, nor has there been a day, an hour, since that awful night that I would not have given my life if by doing so that of Nannie Williams could have been returned.

Upon coming towards the shore I thought it wise to deposit the trunk upon another and more remote portion of the beach. I did this, and, after returning the boat, drove away, and later came back for the trunk.

Upon reaching the house I found Miss Williams more at ease. She had occupied her mind during my absence by collecting and placing in Nannie’s room all of her belongings, even those of her own things that her sister had used. She was inclined to talk to me and plan for the future, but for this I had no heart, and little by little, as often as I could do so without exciting her again, I told her that our life together was ended.

I did not do this with anger, and agreed to guard her secret so long as it did not place my own life in danger. The housekeeping was broken up, and very shortly thereafter Mr. Hatch took her to Milwaukee, where she remained in a private institution until later in the summer. The cause that had produced her unsound mental condition had been removed.

Hatch did not know of her sister’s death for months afterward, and then against my advice was it told to him, he supposing she had returned to her Texas friends. All of the things that Minnie had separated from her own were packed and taken to Englewood and were placed in a room in the second story, where they were kept for several weeks until I could obtain time to dispose of them, when I assorted some of them and gave them to Pitezel, telling him that they were some that Miss Williams had sent to his children. All the others were burned in the large stove in the third-story office, and this I plainly told the Philadelphia authorities in the fall of 1894, and all the subsequent excitement occurred as a direct result of a visit made there by their representative in verification of my statement.

Another trunk, containing pictures and books, was not taken from the express company owing to a mistake in charges, though Miss Williams supposed this had also been disposed of, and this was the one later returned to Fort Worth. Before going to Milwaukee, Miss Williams was in such a nervous condition that only one important step was taken, which was that her people in the South should suppose that she, together with her husband and sister, had gone to Europe or elsewhere, this being made easier inasmuch as some talk had been had earlier of a short fall trip abroad if money matters would allow it.

At about this time there occurred a very severe lake storm, July 18, 1893, doing much damage and it was hoped they would conclude that all had perished during this storm. Certain it is that Miss Williams wrote no more letters to her friends and did not appear publicly in Chicago, if possible to avoid it, in order to carry out this idea, but fortunately for my (our) present safety there are, as I shall show later, several instances when she did appear and in my company.

While she was in Milwaukee, I did what I could to arrange our business affairs so that neither she nor myself should suffer loss, it being impossible for her to make new transfers of a later date or to go to Texas without abandoning the idea of deceiving her friends there regarding her existence.

I was determined, too, as soon as possible, to sever all my relations with her, deeming it unsafe to continue them, and from time to time I encouraged Hatch in his attentions to her, which he was more willing to bestow than she to accept.

Just here it would not be amiss to return to an exciting incident, which lasted some days, in connection with one of my insurance cases.

It happened shortly after the death of my medical friend and former college chum.

The sad announcement of his death—for to me it was a sad one—set me to thinking. I began to seriously consider the chances of my carrying out the plans which my old friend and I had spent so many anxious days and nights in perfecting. The prospect was a good one, and I desired, and finally determined, to carry at least one of them to a conclusion, single-handed and alone. No person was to be in my confidence, and I set to work getting my scheme in order.

Some time previous to this I had, while in Minneapolis, insured my life for $20,000 in favor of my wife. Failure in this one instance, where my friend was concerned, made a desperate man of me. I determined to succeed at any cost. The prospective profits in the work were most alluring. The chance for detection, of course, must be guarded against, and the contingencies of all other serious accidents which might arise, and make exposure certain, had to be taken into consideration.

Upon figuring up what the gross proceeds had been in similar operations, the result showed me that, with the very modest outlay of $3,950, they aggregated $68,700. This work one can easily see was profitable beyond any legitimate work that might be entered into.

The assessments having been paid up on my recent $20,000 policy to and including the month of June, 1887, I thought that it was time to bring this case to a close.

In order to realize the $20,000 before September 1st, I accordingly went to Chicago and had a long conversation with an acquaintance of a year before, who was an assistant at —— Medical College, over certain details of my proposed work.

However, I found it more difficult to obtain a body that would prove a substitute for my own. I had a “cow-lick” which could not be imitated by artificial means, and it was absolutely necessary to get a subject so favored by nature, and I had a most gloomy wait, lasting about two weeks, going to the dead room of the college each morning to inspect the “arrivals,” which had come in during the preceding twenty-four hours.

Finally, my patience was rewarded, about May 20th, when I was informed that a man had been killed accidentally falling from a freight car. The body in due time arrived, and after making a most minute and critical examination of it, I determined that it was just what I required for my purpose. Satisfactory arrangements having been made with the hospital for my possession of the subject, I started out to ascertain the best way to have it moved.

It was here that a chain of most extraordinary and gruesomely interesting circumstances began. All the precautions that the mind can conceive and the body execute had to be brought into execution. No chance for detection now could be entertained. No loophole for surprise and discomfiture was to be left uncovered; and I had to do all that was vitally necessary to this end alone.

Knowing that I had a most trustworthy friend in a certain expressman, I at once repaired to his abode. My surprise and discomfiture were great. He was dead. He had died some time previously. All hope for assistance in that quarter, naturally, had to be given up.

From inquiries I made of the janitor of the college, I learned that a certain expressman in the neighborhood could be employed for the purpose I desired, as he had on former occasions been hired for “outside work” by some of the men in the institution.

I called at this man’s address, and after seeing him I stated my business. “How much will you charge me for taking a body from —— College to Polk Street Station?” I asked.

“Five dollars,” was the reply this man gave me.

This price being satisfactory to me, we started for the place where I had ordered a trunk to be made according to a special design. This trunk was one of more than ordinary large size, and externally it resembled one of those iron-bound, burglar-proof arrangements jewelry salesmen call sample cases. Inside, the construction was of a very elaborate nature.

The greater portion of it being occupied by a large zinc box of sufficient dimensions to allow a man to occupy it by doubling his joints, where doubling was necessary. This was fitted by a lid of wood to deaden any sound that might be caused through the possible rattling of the ice, which was to surround the inner box. The entire trunk was made water-proof, but who knows how it could travel on a railroad train without undergoing severe usage, and possible demolition?

The trunk was taken to the college, the body placed in it with the aid of the expressman, who did not seem to relish that sort of work. He seemed to weaken at times, and once or twice I noticed him grow pale. After the trunk was carefully packed and ready for conveyance to the station, we found that it was almost too early to remove it.

After standing about for some time, the Jehu grew more courageous, inasmuch as he gazed through a few inverted liquor glasses when their contents were amber-lined. He said:—

“I can’t do this job for $5.”

“Why not?” I asked, very much surprised.

“Because, if I make a hearse of my wagon and personally act as combination driver, undertaker and pall-bearer, I must have $35. If I don’t get that sum, I shall inform the police that all is not right.”

Of course I expostulated with the man, and resorting, as often before, to my sugar-and-fly policy, I placated him, gave him $5 in cash and promised the other $30 when we reached the station.

This was all right, for he said if I did not pay he would have me arrested instantly.

In due course of time the trunk was carted to the Illinois Central Station, and, after having it placed on the platform, the driver turned to me and demanded the $30 forthwith.

This was the chance I had been waiting for.

“I shall not give you another cent,” said I.

“Oh, yes, you will!”

“Besides, I have a mind to demand the return of the $5 from you for attempting to extort money from me.”

“You would stand a great chance of getting it, too. Now, give me $30 or to the ‘cops’ I go.”

“You may go, but first listen to me and answer my questions. Did you not, in the presence of the janitor and myself, help place the corpse in the trunk? Did you not haul it here? Have you not assisted me in all this work?”

“Yes, I have.”

“That man was murdered. Speak a word about it to any one, and I will have you arrested as an accessory to his murder.”

The driver was evidently very much frightened, as his eyes widened and bulged, and his hair began to assume a perpendicular position.

“The body must go in the lake,” I continued, “and let the waves bury it forever from human sight. I hope you understand me.”

Then he told me that he did not want any more money, and as I knew his address, he would always be at my service at any future time.

Having purchased my ticket for the timber lands of Michigan, I checked my trunk, and it began its adventurous trip North.

Everything had gone along as well as I could have wished until our train was nearing Grand Rapids. My attention was attracted to a group of trainmen standing about a trunk in the baggage section which occupied the forward part of the smoker in which I was traveling.

I got up and looked closer, and was almost stricken dumb with horror when I saw that it was my trunk, and that the men were talking as though they suspected something wrong with it.

I immediately changed my plans about going North directly, and was in a feverish state of excitement when we reached Grand Rapids. As soon as the trunk was deposited in the baggage room, I went in as though to claim it. As I did so, I noticed a stranger looking at me and on the trunk in a manner which made me feel quite uncomfortable. I pretended not to notice him, and thereby got a better chance to study him. I soon concluded that he was a Secret Service man, and that I had been “spotted.”

Realizing that some decisive and telling action was necessary at this time, I stepped to the telegraph office and wired myself at the hotel, as follows:—

“Holmes. Look after my trunk, which left Chicago this morning.

(Signed) Harvey.”

The initial “H” was the same as that on my trunk, and when I got to the hotel, I showed the clerk the telegram, which he held for me, and engaged communicating rooms for Harvey and myself, with a bath attachment. I sent a porter for the trunk, and after seeing it in the rooms, I then learned the cause which attracted the attention of the trainmen to it. My suspicions had been confirmed, for an awful odor emanated from the trunk, and I then knew that the man had been dead longer than the college attendants stated, and, also, that I had been imposed upon.

Fearing that such a contingency might arise, I formulated a plan while on the smoking car of transferring the body from the Chicago trunk to another, which I should purchase.

After locking my room carefully, I started out to look for a suitable trunk, but stopped long enough to tell the clerk that my baggage would be on hand in the course of an hour or so. It was growing toward evening, and I had but little time to spare.

After looking about for a short while, I soon got a used trunk that suited my purpose quite well. I ordered the lock to be changed on it, and while this was being done I made several trips to a couple of plumbing shops and bought a considerable quantity of old lead pipe. I had this cut up into suitable lengths, and made into packages. I made several trips to the trunk store, and each time I placed a package of the heavy material in the new trunk, after which I had it sent to my room at the hotel. This was done to make it appear that it was filled with my effects.

The day had been warm, and the night also promised to be sultry. No time was to be lost in getting things in order and to guard against surprises.

During my several trips to the trunk store I noticed the man I first saw at the Grand Rapids Station was looking after me, and I was placed on my guard.

As I said, the night was going to be warm; I knew that it would be but a short time until all the floor I occupied would be permeated with the odor from my friend in the trunk.

I went out again and secured a water-proof hunting bag, and carried a considerable amount of ice to the room, which I placed in the bath tub.

I then took the lead pipe from my new trunk and laid it beside the first one in the adjoining room.

While doing this work the atmosphere became so stifling that I had to hoist the window. This window opened out on the roof of a porch, and by the time that was done it had grown quite dark.

I decided to defer further work until after I had eaten.

As I entered the dining room I could see the eye of that mysterious stranger watching me in the reflection of the mirror from the bar.

I was somewhat troubled at this, and I did not enjoy my dinner very well.

After my repast, I lounged out to the office and then went to my room.

I went to the bath room first, drained the water from the ice, and prepared a place for the dead man to lie in. When this was done to my satisfaction, I went to the trunk my supposed friend was to occupy and opened it. The usual balancing and cording precautions which I had taken were all right, but the face that met my gaze was drawn, colored and hideous, yet it somewhat resembled the outlines of my own when I first secured the body.

The sight was disgusting, yet when I looked upon it, and realized that at least $20,000 would come to me after a little further trouble, I gazed on it as a very good investment which was about to mature.

The monetary possibilities of this work set me thinking, and yet I knew I had in this instance to work rapidly. I loosed the cords, raised the body, and carried it to the bath tub, where I sought to freeze it hard enough for another day’s transportation.

There, in the twinkling light of a solitary gas jet, lay all that was mortal of—I knew not whom.

I claimed him as my own, and as I studied the now rigid form, strange questions arose and floated across my mind.

Who was he? What had he been? Was he a father, a lover, or brother? Was his absence from home noted? Was he cared for? Or, was he, like myself, a wayward son? Such thoughts troubled me but little before, and yet, as he lay there on his frozen bed, I, seemingly fascinated by the awful solemnity of death, did not seem able to tear myself away.

The gas flickered, a door slowly opened, and before I knew what had transpired, I was given the opportunity of looking straight into the eyes of the mysterious stranger—the Secret Service man—over the glittering barrel of a death-dealing weapon.

Not a word was spoken, but our eyes instinctively turned towards the object in the bath tub.

“Consider yourself under arrest, sir,” said the nocturnal intruder.

“I am at your service,” I replied, knowing that it would be useless to try conclusions with that man in such a small room.

While he was getting some iron bracelets out of his pocket, I mentally determined to have him in the street, glad enough to get away from me and my rooms.

I was ready for him when he walked out into the next room; he keeping his pistol leveled at me with one hand, and trying to get his handcuffs out with the other.

By the merry little twinkle in his eye I read his character as though it lay printed before me on an open page. It was part of my game, and I intended to play my hand as well as I knew how. He seemed to hold a good one, too, but as I had the greatest bower—money—I knew that it was worth the while to play it as best I could.

Desperate, indeed, did my situation become when I saw that he had a companion awaiting us in the room, and a glance at the window explained how their entrance had been effected.

As we got into the chamber the man with the pistol, who was much larger than his associate, looked at me and winked.

“John, go to the station house, and wait until I send for you; but do not say anything until you get word,” my captor said to the other.

No sooner had the man called “John” gotten out on the porch roof than the other turned to me with:——

“This is a nice sort of a business, and I have entrapped you neatly in it. It looks very much like the rope for you.”

“My dear sir, you will let me explain, I hope. This man was my brother. He has just died of a malignant and very contagious disease. He had been sent to a medical college for dissection, and when I learned of it, I determined to save the body from the demonstrator’s knife. Come, look again, and see if you cannot discern a family resemblance?”

As I was talking, the man drew back, and, at my invitation, turned an ashen color. His hands trembled, and as they dropped listlessly the pistol fell to the floor and exploded with a loud report.

Critical as the moment was, it was time for me to act, and I made a successful effort to get the weapon, and as I did so, I ordered him to go to the window and save his life if it was of any value to him.

He lost no time, and as his form disappeared over the ledge of the porch I fired a shot into the air.

This of course brought the landlord and several guests to my door, which I opened in response to repeated knockings.

I was very much excited, apparently, and called out, “There, see, there he goes.” The crowd of half-dressed men and women rushed to the window and gave me a chance to close the bathroom door. Heavens, but I did breathe more easily! The escape was a narrow one, but I succeeded in allaying suspicion by saying that the man had attempted burglary, and as I shot he jumped from the roof.

The figure of a running man was discernible in the darkness when they were at the window, which had the effect of verifying my explanations.

After they had gone the landlord offered me the use of another room, which I, of course, declined.

Now my real hard work was to begin. The man was apparently satisfied that I had told the truth, yet he had a suspicious look which I did not like.

As early as possible in the morning, I packed my own trunk with the lead pipe, and to leave that of the fictitious Harvey, while I took my dead friend from his frigid resting place, and repacked him in the new trunk. Upon going to breakfast, I explained that I must go to a place which was somewhat distant, on the early train; but would leave my friend’s trunk in the room, as he was expected at any time.

Therefore I had the porter take the newly-packed trunk to the station, where he bought me a ticket and had the trunk checked to my pretended destination.

I timed myself to get to the station just as the train was going out, and as the coast seemed clear, I boarded the smoker.

I knew if the detective missed me, he would go at once to the hotel, and if he found my trunk there he would naturally wait around for an hour or so, thus giving me a pretty good start of him.

When about thirty miles from Grand Rapids I got off to get a paper. The newsstand was next to the Western Union Telegraph office, and as I looked over the operator’s shoulder, he received the following message:—

“Look out for man and black trunk. Left here this a. m. Arrest and hold him.”

I may have looked queerly, but I inquired in a natural way, how far it was to ——, my destination.

“Forty-eight miles,” was the reply of the operator; and without raising his eyes, he called a boy to take the message to the station policeman.

But he was too late. The train started, I swung on, and immediately got hold of the baggage porter. I showed him my ticket, and asked him to put my trunk off at the next station, which was but eight miles distant. This he did, and it was a dismal place, indeed. When I got off the train it was raining. It had been raining hard, evidently, all night. The mud was hub deep on the lumber wagons, and the prospect of stopping there was not a pleasant one.

I learned, upon making inquiries, that I could get to a little town fifteen miles distant, which connected with another railroad, and to do this I would have to drive. I determined to go, however, as the detective, no doubt, would haunt every station between Grand Rapids and my destination until he got some trace of me, when he would learn that I had gotten away from him.

It was with difficulty that I secured a conveyance, which I did in the evening, as I did not want a driver, because I knew the trunk had become troublesome again on account of the odor of my dead companion.

Having carefully attached the trunk to the rear of a back-number buck-board, a dismal trip was begun. As I said, I had considerable difficulty in getting the rig, and as it was I had to leave a deposit large enough to buy several of that particular kind.

After seven hours of the worst riding it has been my misfortune to endure, I reached a small town from which a combination freight and passenger train was about to leave. It was one of those accommodating trains. I “saw” the conductor, who agreed to hold the train for half an hour.

This delay was for the purpose of giving me a chance to freshen my subject up a little. Ice was not procurable, and as there was no drug store in the town, I went down to the grocery store, got the proprietor up and bought several bottles of ammonia, which, when combined with one or two other simple things, made a solution that rendered my quiet friend quite acceptable so far as one’s olfactories were concerned.

This operation of attempted preserving was done in the privacy of the baggage car, and all went well until we got about three miles from town. Through the negligence of some section hands a rail was left without the fish-plate being bolted on, and the whole train was ditched.

The engineer was killed, and the conductor was badly injured, as also were two or three passengers. I escaped through a window, and after helping some of the injured who needed surgical attendance, I went to the baggage car. It was a wreck. So was most of the baggage. My trunk and one or two others were intact, and while awaiting the arrival of the relief train and wrecking crew, my thoughts again got to wandering.

There was a score of us. Some were injured, one dead, and all of us anxious. The morning was just breaking; the rain had ceased to fall; and, as I looked away down the railroad, I could just distinguish a cloud of steam and smoke, through the fog, which showed the approach of a train.

Something seemed to tell me that I was about to be confronted with some disagreeable occurrence, and, in anticipation of this premonition becoming a fact, I quickly hauled my trunk to a little shed used by workmen, and impatiently awaited the wrecker. Therefore, I was not astonished when I saw that the first man to alight was my friend, the detective of Grand Rapids. He also saw me, but seemed to pay very little attention to me, as he knew I could not escape, for by this time it was broad daylight, and no trains coming or going.

Finally he accosted me, and we entered into “an agreement” to have my trunk taken to the junction of the road, which was done to my entire satisfaction, and, I have every reason to think, to his also. Just what that little agreement cost me I am not at liberty to say, for that officer still lives.

It was a dark and dreary day when I got into the wild wildernesses of Northern Michigan’s lumber tracts. I was soon established in a hut, and it shortly became known that I was a lumber operator of considerable means, and was regarded with much consideration by the hardy hewers of trees and strippers of bark. The men were all honest, it seemed. So one day I went out in the evergreen forest and failed to return.

A week or so later what was purported to be my dead body was found pinioned to the earth by a fallen tree. Money and papers were found in the clothes on the body which established my identity beyond the question of a doubt.

Thus, by case No. 5, after a great deal of trouble and thrilling escapes from the law’s officers, I added the neat little sum of $20,000 to my bank account by September 1st, as I had anticipated.

When I had finished with the trunk I presented it to a friend, but at the time did not tell to what use it had been put.

Some years afterwards I met him at his home, and told him all about it. Then he and his wife declared that often they had found it open—no one having touched it—when both declared it had been closed and locked the day previous.

One day in July, 1893, I met an old friend upon the street. I had not seen him for nearly two years, and I noticed at once that he had not prospered since I last saw him. I asked him to accompany me to lunch, and upon inquiry, he told me that his only means of support at that time consisted of what he could earn as a solicitor for the Fidelity Insurance Company of Philadelphia, and he asked me if I could not carry some insurance in his company, to which I replied that I was carrying all I felt able to pay for.

I gave him, however, the names of several parties whom he was to visit, some of whom he later insured. I invited him to come to the office and accompany me to lunch whenever he was in that part of the city, and later, at his solicitation, I abandoned the company in which I had been insured, and allowed him to place a policy for me with his company for two reasons: first, that he might be benefited by the premiums I paid; second, upon his showing me the advantages they offered. Considerably later, having exhausted all my resources so far as finding him customers was concerned, we were standing within the Chamber of Commerce Building, Chicago, when Pitezel, just returning from a successful Southern lumber trip, came in; and not having seen my friend for quite awhile, they talked for some time together, and finally he asked Pitezel if he could not carry some insurance. Pitezel answered that he did not care to do so then.

Up to that time Pitezel’s insurance record was as follows: Upon all long trips, his instructions were to take out temporary insurance at the time he bought his transportation ticket or mileage, making the policies in favor of his family, and at my expense. He had occasionally carried yearly accident insurance, and upon one occasion some regular life insurance in the Washington Life Co. Soon after this meeting with Pitezel, my friend asked me to try and induce him to take some in his company. Pitezel was about to receive several hundred dollars, the greater part of which I knew would, in a very few days, be wasted, and considering the great help it would be to my friend during the coming winter, I decided to induce Pitezel to insure, telling my friend beforehand my reasons for doing so, and instructing him to place no more insurance than Pitezel would pay cash for at the time.

Later, a policy was issued for $10,000, for which a cash premium was paid. This policy differed very materially from one I should have chosen, if any fraud had been anticipated at the time. After this I do not think insurance was again mentioned between Pitezel and myself for six months.

MRS. PITEZEL.

My first intimate acquaintance with Mrs. Pitezel and her children began in the fall of 1893, although I had often seen them prior to that, especially the children, whom I liked and looked upon as remarkably bright when they had come to me from time to time upon errands. At this time Pitezel had gone to Indiana on some lumber business there among the farmers, and to aid him in establishing a credit, had taken with him some worthless checks to carelessly exhibit among his money, thus having it appear that he was a man of considerable means and worthy of credit in his business.

While under the influence of liquor he either lost or tried to use one of these checks or drafts, resulting in his being arrested.

This necessitated my making three special trips to Terre Haute, where his arrest occurred, and during this time a part of his family being sick, it was also necessary for me to visit them often as well. In November, 1893, I met Miss Williams by appointment at a hotel, where I made some preliminary arrangements that resulted later, after several more visits, in her accepting collateral security for all her real estate holdings in Texas, they being valueless to her for the reasons previously given.

The last of these visits took place in Detroit in December, 1893 (nearly six months after the death of her sister), since which time I have not personally seen her. At the time of this visit a final settlement was reached. I told her, after having reached such a settlement, that I was very shortly to be married. This created so severe a scene that she not only threatened my life, but that of my prospective wife as well. These threats ceased only when I told her I should, upon my return to Chicago, give to the authorities the details of the tragedy that had occurred there in July.

The next day she seemed as pleasant as usual, and planned her own future course, which consisted in opening a massage establishment in a London hotel, Hatch to help her in conducting the enterprise.

About the middle of February I sent to her, from Fort Worth, $1,750, which, when deducted from my previous indebtedness due her, left me still considerably in her debt. This was secured by the Wilmette property, the title to which it was agreed she should hold until all was paid. I left Miss Williams in Detroit, apparently well pleased with her business arrangements, and at least passably satisfied that the many other matters between us had been settled.

Early in January, 1894, I sent Pitezel to Fort Worth, instructing him to sell the real estate there which previously had been conveyed to Benton T. Lyman, whom Pitezel was to personate, it not being safe for him to act in his own name on account of his recent trouble in Terre Haute, Ind. He did not succeed in readily finding a purchaser, and later in the same month, having been married in the meantime, I joined him there to aid him in his work. I had given Pitezel careful instructions as to his conduct while away, but I found upon reaching Fort Worth that he had not been governed by them. My first duty was to remove him from the boarding place he had chosen to one in a more respectable quarter, but the mischief had already been accomplished, and he was known by that time throughout the town as a liberal, free and easy drinking man, who, it was understood, had considerable property.

A party owning property adjoining that which we wished to sell had need of a portion of ours, but would not buy, depending upon renting it at a very small figure, as he had been doing heretofore. In order to force him to buy I directed Pitezel to withdraw his offer, and remain wholly away from him, quietly survey our lot, and proceed to excavate a portion of it, having it understood that he was about to erect a large building, covering all of the ground. Our neighbor was fully as crafty as ourselves, and not until we had caused elaborate drawings to be prepared by an architect, and some foundation laid encroaching upon the portion he needed, did he conclude to buy, and at a figure about twice what it was worth. With a portion of this money, the old encumbrance of $1,700, that had existed against the property, was paid. Then having had some tempting offers from prospective tenants, a larger loan was made and the building later nearly completed.

While the building was in progress there came to us a forlorn looking object, begging for work, and out of charity we gave him some light labor to do. He grew stronger as soon as he procured food. Later he confided to me that he had recently been released from serving a ten-year term in a Southern prison.

I had at first called him “Mascot,” which name clung to him thereafter, though I think his real name was Caldwell.

Early in March Pitezel came to me one morning to say that the day before while drunk he had been induced by some of the disreputable associates he had formed at his former boarding place to marry a woman of doubtful character, an adventuress some said, and that as soon as he became sober had come to me. He threatened to shoot both the woman and himself. I had him watched carefully for a few days, until I had reasoned him out of this idea. A little later I sent him home to his family in Chicago. He had in the meantime lived with this woman, and they were known as Mr. and Mrs. Lyman.

Upon reaching Chicago he did some work there, and in St. Louis where he afterwards went. He finally met me about May 1st, at Denver, where I had gone to prepare papers with which to secure a loan of $16,000 upon this Fort Worth building. I needing his signature to the papers, inasmuch as the property was (and still is) in his fictitious name, Lyman, upon meeting him in Denver, I wished to proceed at once to the Court House to have the necessary papers acknowledged, but he told me he had, while away, devised a plan whereby he could not only gain $10,000, but at the same time forever do away with any fear of prosecution or trouble in consequence of his marriage in Fort Worth—a matter which had perpetually worried him.

I had times without number listened to his visionary schemes for obtaining vast wealth upon a day’s notice, usually in connection with some new patent, until such matters had become a joke between us.

So I said to him, “Well, Col. Sellers, what is it now?” He replied that it was one of my own inventions, and if I would go to the hotel with him, he would tell me of it. He seemed so much in earnest that I, although in a great hurry, went with him.

His plan was this (I should say here that several years before, while making a Southern lumber trip with him, he had taken up some of the tedious hours of the journey in telling me of his wild gold-mining experiences, and, in reciprocation, I had told him something of my medical experience, including a part of the frustrated insurance scheme): He wished to hire an office in one of the highest buildings in Denver, having it understood that he was to use it as a wholesale book agent’s office; that he should buy an awning to protect the room from the sun, and while placing it in position upon the outside of the window it should appear that he had fallen into the area way below, wishing me to have shipped to him from Chicago, or elsewhere, a body which he could use to aid in the fraud.

I do not think we talked of the matter to exceed fifteen minutes. He was accustomed to accept my judgment upon matters of importance without much hesitancy. I proceeded to give him several reasons why his plan was not a feasible one, principal among which was the fact that at the present time insurance companies are too well equipped and too much upon the alert not to detect this kind of fraud, nearly all of them having a corps of private detectives. Among other reasons I gave him was one he very well knew, that theretofore, when I had thought it wise to indulge in business transactions that were not strictly legitimate, I had always insisted upon two conditions being carried out:—

First, that such proceedings should be outside the regular beaten track followed by ordinary disreputable schemers, for in consequence thereof those engaged in them were closely watched. Second, that all such acts should stop short of anything that was punishable by either a large fine or imprisonment.

There was another reason I had for not entering into this fraud at that time, if no others had existed, I did not tell him of it, namely, that during the previous years he had been worth to me much more than $10,000 per year, and I could not afford to have him place himself in such a position as would necessarily be the case if this were carried out where I could not further use him. His idea in regard to this had been to go to South America and later have his family join him there.

Having dismissed the matter, I went on with my real estate work, and as soon as the papers were executed, returned to Fort Worth, Pitezel going back to St. Louis to attend to some work there.

Upon reaching Fort Worth, I found that some to whom money was owing had filed mechanics’ and furnishers’ liens against the property, and this so alarmed the party who was to have made the large loan that he withdrew from his agreement, and this resulted in a large number of the other creditors becoming alarmed, some two or three proposing to cause my arrest for having obtained the material for the building under false pretenses of payment.

I had never been arrested, and I had the same horror of it that I would of being shot. Especially terrible seemed the methods prevalent in the South, where I had seen, from time to time, convicts chained together, with hardly any clothing, and if I could believe the reports our “Mascot” had given us, with less food and more inhuman treatment than was accorded the slaves of that region forty years ago.

I therefore raised what money I could, paying all of it, save $200, to the poorer laborers who had worked for me, and immediately left the city, intending to secure the loan in St. Louis or Chicago.

From time to time, during my residence in Fort Worth, I had bought from different parties six good horses, paying for them, it is true, for the most part with notes guaranteed by Lyman as the owner of the real estate there. I make no claim that these notes have been paid, but I do claim that the transactions were lawful, that no mortgage or other encumbrance existed against any of the horses, but they were, however, subject to attachment by any parties whom I was owing, and to avoid this I instructed “Mascot” to take them to Denison, Texas, and ship them from there to St. Louis.

Upon reaching Denison he shipped five of the horses, but failed to accompany them himself, or to send $300 worth of other material, including much of my clothing, one carriage, a watch I had loaned him, and $80 cash given him to pay the freight upon the stock; nor did I hear from him again until July, 1895, when, as an inmate of an Arkansas prison, he was willing in exchange for his liberty to tell of matters of which he could not have known even had they existed.

After reaching St. Louis, I immediately tried to negotiate the loan I had failed to secure in the South. Pitezel was feeling much annoyed at my failure there, for he had expected a rather more liberal payment therefrom than he had received during the few preceding months, owing to the fact that while he had been in Texas it had been necessary, in order to appear that he was the owner there, that he should carry the bank account in his name, and before he had known it, during his drunkenness, he had been robbed little by little of nearly $1,000. Therefore, when I told him that we should be short of money for some time longer, he again advocated the insurance scheme, saying that it could be carried out in the Southern Lumber Co.

He felt sure, and finally, against my better judgment, I told him we would take a trip to the region he had spoken of, partly upon lumber business and partly to look over the ground in connection with the insurance work. He was as pleased as a child, and all his morose feelings vanished at once. We first went down the Mississippi River to visit a lumber tract that had been offered to me the year before upon very easy terms, hoping to buy it, using some Chicago securities as payment, and by selling at once to raise the money we so much needed at Fort Worth. We found upon reaching our destination that this tract had been sold. We then went East to the Tombigbee River in search of another similar tract, and here Pitezel wished to have it appear that while he was traveling upon horseback through the extensive swamps he had met his death accidentally, or had been killed for what money he was supposed to have carried. He was known in that locality under his own name, having transacted a number of legitimate lumber deals there the year before. After wandering with Pitezel for several days through those swamps, being eaten by fleas and terrified by snakes, he walking ahead, as he said, to drive them away, but, as I later found, to escape their anger by passing out of their reach, leaving them for me to contend with, I flatly refused to go farther with the scheme, but told him instead that I would interest some of the planters in a canning factory.

With the machinery which I was able to furnish from Chicago I felt sure that, before sixty days, we could realize $15,000 in cash and lumber therefrom. He would not hear to it, however, and opposed me more strongly than I had ever known him to do previously. He told me that at that time he was liable to arrest in Kansas, in Terre Haute, Ind., and Fort Worth, Texas, and that since his domestic trouble some years before in Chicago he had cared less than ever, and he had been determined ever since he left Texas, where he had drank more heavily than before (which also worried him), that he would leave the country, and now, if he could not do so, he would, upon my refusal to go on, go through with his scheme alone. His words were, “I can furnish a body, and, the way I feel now, I do not care how quickly I do it.” Seeing how downhearted he was I complained no more, but talked with him of other things, and finally told him that I would next day go to Mobile, and if I could procure a suitable body there, would return with it. If not, I should go direct from Mobile to St. Louis, where he must join me, and, after doing some work there, we would go to Chicago and organize a company among certain lumber firms we knew, and return South later and make what money we could by exchanging this stock and machinery for the canning factory into lumber and other products. I therefore left him, as he supposed, to go to Mobile. This I did not do, and have never been in that city in my life. I returned at once to St. Louis and, after a little delay, wrote to Pitezel that it had been impossible to obtain what I needed South and for him to join me at once. Nearly two weeks’ delay occurred before he came. His wife had been receiving letters from him that he was sick during this time.

Later, after his death, I learned that upon receiving my letter that I could not do any more in the insurance matter he had made an effort to take his life at the hotel of Henry Rodgers, at Perkinsville, Ala., and for days, as a result of this ineffectual attempt, he was sick there, as he was later at the Gilmer House, at Columbus, Miss. As soon as I reached St. Louis I found that all efforts towards securing a loan there were useless, and being nearly out of money, owing to my having paid out so much before leaving Fort Worth, I had to look sharply about for some immediate source of revenue. I finally bought and took possession of a drug store in that city, paying for it with notes secured by a chattel mortgage and some other securities. Owing to the negligence of the firm of whom I bought, this mortgage was not recorded, and upon Pitezel reaching the city I sold to him all my right, title and interest (this being the wording of the bill of sale) in the store, which he immediately mortgaged for a considerable sum.

For this transaction I was arrested and confined in the St. Louis jail for several days until, although I perhaps could, by a legal fight, have shown that I had a right to sell the store under these circumstances, it became clear to me that it was safer to settle the matter, which was done.

My arrest occurred on a Saturday evening, and from then until Monday morning I was confined in the receiving portion of the jail, below the level of the street, and these few hours of my first imprisonment were far more trying to me than my subsequent experiences of like nature have been.

Here, all through that long, hot Sunday, all classes of prisoners, both male and female, were brought together, and allowed to indulge in the most filthy and obscene talk.

And at the open windows, opening directly upon the sidewalk, all day and far into the night, a crowd was standing, more than half of whom were tiny children, eagerly drinking in each word that was said. The next morning I had handcuffs placed upon my wrists, and was taken into Court and later into the jail proper, where better discipline was enforced. Here I was consigned to a very small iron cage (I know no better name for it), one of about three hundred, ranged tier above tier around a large area in which all, or nearly all, the prisoners are allowed to exercise together during certain hours of the day. Here were to be seen many noted criminals, who were soon pointed out to me as “This is so and so, who is to be hung upon such a date.” (About thirty murderers, one of whom was the prison barber, who if you paid him ten cents, would shave you with a very dull razor, while if you paid him more he would use a sharp one; and as I sat in his chair, I could not help thinking that which ever one he used was plenty sharp enough for him to commit one more murder with, if he chose, and I therefore directed him to use his sharpest razor at a price above his own figure, very much as I would have held out a tempting piece of meat to a vicious dog which I feared was about to bite me.)

Or, “That is the notorious forger or confidence man,” as the case might be. Among others was one, a noted train robber then serving an eighteen years’ sentence, and who a short time previously had become more notorious by a nearly successful attempt at escape from the prison. He is a young man, whom, to meet upon the street, one would suppose to be a bright mechanic or a farmer. He is very intelligent, and I took much interest in talking with him. He told me of the case that had resulted in his arrest; of his subsequent trial, and remarked that Blank & Blank in St. Louis were his attorneys; to which I replied that but for the fact of the senior members of the firm being absent on a vacation they would have been my attorneys as well, I having first sent for them, and finding this to be the case had employed Judge Harvey instead.

He afterwards asked me if, upon leaving the prison, I could not contribute $300, which, together with some other money he could obtain, would give him his liberty by bribing one of the keepers, making a claim that he had successfully done so before. My answer was, that at the present time I had less ready money than had been the case for years previously, owing to my having invested so much in the South. I told him if I could arrange to aid him later I would do so, but I made no engagement with him to furnish me with an attorney for the insurance work as has been claimed, for I was already acquainted with the firm.

The balance of my short stay in this prison was taken up by my reading “Les Misérables,” a peculiarly interesting volume to me under the circumstances, and I judge it was to all prisoners who cared for reading, as was evidenced by the condition of the book itself, which I obtained from the prison library. I was also entertained by watching a huge negro being prepared to meet his death by hanging, by having alternately administered to him spiritual consolation from his confessors, large quantities of cigars to smoke, food to eat and liquor or beer to drink. A so-called death watch was kept also, but not so stringent but that he was allowed to go alone to the front of the compartments occupied by his favorite companions, and talk at some length with them.

Next morning, upon looking from my latticed window across into the court yard, I saw him meet his death upon the gallows in the presence of a large and morbidly curious crowd of people. If I had been in need of any warning to deter me from almost immediately placing myself in a similar position, I know of no stronger one that I could have received than to witness this man’s death struggles, to see the crowd making light of it, and almost before he was dead quarreling to possess small portions of the rope which sent his soul hence, and, I think, of his clothes. Gruesome relics they were, indeed.

Upon the day I was liberated from this place of confinement, I visited first my own attorney and later Blank & Blank, in the same street, at which time the following conversation took place. Entering the office, and having explained who I was, I said:—

“I have called on you to perhaps make some arrangements that will aid in securing the liberty of your client,” to which one of the firm to whom I spoke, replied, “I guess you have made a mistake in the office; I know nothing in regard to the matter.” I said, “I am sure I have made no mistake in the office, and furthermore, have seen either you or your brother talking to him at the prison. However, my visit to you was to aid your client, and of no immediate value to me, and I have no desire to force the recognition of your client upon you, and will therefore bid you good day.” Upon my withdrawing to the door, he followed me, and said, “Wait a moment; I will go down to the prison and see what my client means; you come here again, shortly.”

I replied that I should be in Judge Harvey’s office, and upon his return he could call there if he wished to talk further with me. I would then accompany him to his office. He did call for me, and upon reaching his private office was willing and ready to talk. Our conversation resulted in my placing in his hands for collection nearly $500 worth of good accounts, authorizing him to apply $300 of the proceeds to the robber’s use. I also gave him my Chicago address, in case he wished to write me.

As I was leaving his office he said, “My client wished me to ask you, if he succeeds in gaining his liberty, if you will aid him in a certain piece of bank work he wishes to do.” I replied that it was wholly out of my line, and I should be of no more service to him in such work than a dead man; moreover, my recent imprisonment had shown me the necessity of being even more careful to avoid laying myself liable to arrest in the future, but that I would furnish the chloroform and nitroglycerine he needed upon my arrival in Chicago, and have it placed in a safe place with a suit of clothes and other articles we had planned during our interview, and possibly might aid him later in disposing of certain bonds and stocks he expected to gain possession of; but that there would be ample time to plan for that after he had gained his liberty, for which I would watch the papers closely.

Upon this I left his office, and started for Chicago the same evening, where I had previously sent Pitezel to commence arrangements among the lumber men whom he knew for the formation of the stock company before mentioned. I reached Chicago August 1, 1894, and upon calling upon my attorney there and also my agent, both assured me that it was dangerous for me to stay in Chicago, as there were then Fort Worth parties there looking for me, and forming an alliance with some persons whom I was owing to cause my arrest, and thereby force me to procure the money due them.

My attorney instructed me to go elsewhere if I thought sufficient money could be made to satisfy these debts and organize my company, and upon my asking him where I should go, he told me that either New York or New Jersey were favorable States in which to organize companies to do business elsewhere. Having other business in New York I decided to go there, though under a different name, lest the granting of a charter to a company of which I was an officer should, by being published, be noticed by the Fort Worth parties.

I suggested to Pitezel that he should finish some patents, one of which I wished to use in this company, and it was later decided that he should go with me to New York to act as one of the incorporators and to work upon his patents in some small shop he was to hire for the purpose. Before leaving Chicago he reminded me that his insurance premium would be due before our return, and wished me to give him the money to pay it before he went away, remarking that he still thought I would be glad to fall back upon this plan of getting money after my company had failed me. I told him that, owing to the stringency of our money matters, I had allowed my own insurance to lapse and wished he would do the same. He was not willing to do this, advancing, besides the reason already given, that while it was safe for me to allow my insurance to lapse, as I had other things with which to protect those dependent upon me in case of my death, he had little or nothing. He also knew that I had collected a considerable sum of money since coming to Chicago, and could, if necessary, give him what was needed. I finally settled the matter to his satisfaction in the following manner: Upon the day his insurance expired I was to give him sufficient money to take out a three months’ accident policy for $5,000; it was supposed he at that time carried $1,000 of the same kind of insurance, and I agreed to be personally responsible to his family to the extent of $4,000 in case he died, this aggregating the sum of $10,000. He was satisfied with this, it being agreed that at the end of three months, when our money matters were in a more flourishing condition, his regular insurance should be renewed. During our trip to New York, in my talk with him, not having had much opportunity to plan and hold genial conversation together since he left Fort Worth months before, I noticed that he was not as pleasant as usual, was more inclined to sit by himself and smoke and think and frown and worry. I spoke to him of it, and asked him if he had encountered any new trouble at home, to which he answered that he had not.

We reached New York about August 5th, I think. I went to the Astor House and he secured a boarding place near Thirty-third street. I at once commenced to look about for some small space in a shop where he could carry on his work.