Jim Cummings; Or, The Great Adams Express Robbery Part 6

"At last," cried Mr. Pinkerton, and he eagerly scanned the various articles. The revolver was an ordinary, self-c.o.c.king Smith & Wesson.

The billy was the sort called "life-preservers." The Adams Express letter-heads were covered with the names "J. B. Barrett" and "W. H.

Damsel." Mr. Pinkerton pa.s.sed these to his companions.

"They are pretty fair forgeries. Hang me, if it don't look as though I had written that name myself."

The detective, all this time, was scrutinizing each article, hoping to find something new.

With the papers he took out a printed ballad-sheet of the kind sold on the streets by newsboys and fakirs. Turning it over, he saw something written on it, and looking closely, read, "----, Chestnut street."

The handwriting was the same as the handwriting of the letter. The first clew had been found.

CHAPTER VI.

"CHIP" BINGHAM.

George Bingham, or as he was familiarly called, "Chip" Bingham, was the youngest operative in Mr. Pinkerton's service. His talents, in the detective line, ranged considerably higher than did the general run of his a.s.sociates. Possessing an a.n.a.lytical mind, he could take the effect, and, by logical conclusions, retrace its path to the fundamental cause, and following this principle, he had made many valuable discoveries in mystery-shrouded cases, and had, many times, picked the end of a clew from a seemingly hopeless snarl, and raveled the entire mesh of circ.u.mstantial evidence, and made from it a strong cord of substantiated facts. Mr. Pinkerton had early recognized this talent, and having, besides, a peculiar attachment to the handsome young fellow, he frequently placed delicate and intricate cases into his hands, always with good results. It was for Chip, then, he sent, when he had finished his examination of the valuable package.

Mr. Damsel, his mind somewhat freed from the trouble and worry it had carried since the robbery, had left Mr. Pinkerton alone and returned to his office.

Chip, on receipt of his superior's message, immediately repaired to Room 84. His downcast countenance and disappointed air told of fruitless endeavors to catch even the slightest real clew. He said nothing as he entered the room, but with a gesture of hopeless failure he sank into a chair and awaited his chief's pleasure.

"Chip, I've got a starter."

With an indulgent smile Chip nodded his head, but failed to exhibit any extraordinary interest.

Mr. Pinkerton's eyes twinkled. He understood the situation, but time was valuable and he could not waste any in humorous by-play. So without further parleying he handed Chip the tell-tale letter.

The young detective, almost from the first word, put the letter down as a practical joke, perpetrated on the newspaper, but as the missive progressed he became interested, and when he had reached that portion which told of the package every fiber of his detective instinct was alive, and Mr. Pinkerton had no need of pointing to the precious parcel as corroborative evidence that the letter was genuine.

In an instant Chip was examining the contents. Every portion of the revolver, billy and letterheads was searched with deepest scrutiny. The printed sheet of ballad music was picked up, the verses read and the sheet turned.

An exclamation burst from his lips, as his eye caught the words, written in lead pencil, "----Chestnut Street," and placing it beside the letter, he saw it was written by the same hand. "The devil! Here is a starter!"

His face glowed with animation, his eyes had the alert look of a hound on a hot scent, and carefully noting the number in his memorandum book, without waiting instructions from Mr. Pinkerton, he picked up his hat and hurriedly left the room.

Mr. Pinkerton, in full sympathy with his subordinate, lit a cigar, and settled back for a comfortable smoke until Chip made his report.

Chip, regaining the street, engaged a hack standing near the hotel, and stopping it a short distance from the number he wanted on Chestnut street, walked the remaining distance to the house.

A sign "Board by the week or day," and another one, "Furnished rooms to let," showed it to be an ordinary boarding-house. Chip had fully decided within himself, during the ride, that the men who had left the parcel had also left St. Louis. While it was not so much an improbability that the men would still be in the city, it was far more probable that they would put some distance between themselves and the scene of their exploit. For this reason, Chip decided that a plain course would result in no unfortunate mishap or premature flushing of the game.

Ascending the steps, he rang the bell.

The landlady of the house herself opened the door.

Before Chip could speak, she said:

"You're a detective, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Chip, somewhat surprised, and regretting immediately that he had not made his entrance in a more detective-like manner.

"I've been expecting some of you. You want to know about those two men that stopped with me a short time before the 'Frisco express robbery?"

Seeing at once that he was conversing with a more than ordinary shrewd individual, Chip replied, "That's just what I'm here for. But why do you ask that question?"

"Well, I suspicioned something was wrong with them two men. They came here on the fifteenth of October, and paid me a week's board in advance. They kept their room almost all the time, and when I went in to clean it, I saw a lot of railroad time-tables and maps scattered around. One of them was always in the room. It was never left alone. A week before the robbery, the smaller man left, he said for Kansas City, and the larger man told me if a letter came to the house, directed to Williams, that is for him. Well, on the Friday before the robbery, such a letter did come, and the big man, after reading it, said he had to go to Kansas City at once, but he didn't leave the house until Monday, and the next day the robbery occurred."

"Can you give me a description of the men?"

The landlady thereupon gave a full description of the larger man, which Chip carefully inserted in his note book, and recognized as the same given by Fotheringham of his a.s.sailant on that memorable night. But her description of the smaller of the two was somewhat vague, as she said he was only in the house a short time, and she saw very little of him.

"May I go up to the room?"

"Yes; come this way."

Entering the room, the first thing which met the detective's eye was a bottle containing some sort of liniment, having on it a label of a neighboring druggist, In a closet a pair of drawers were found, and with the dark brown stain below the knee was almost identical to that which Chip had found on the railroad track, and which the robber had thrown from the express car. Not satisfied with this, Chip ripped up the carpet, and as a reward for his labor found an express tag, or rather a portion of one, for the tag was torn in two pieces. On the tag Chip read the portion of an address, "----ority," and below, "----worth, Kansas." Further questioning of the garrulous landlady gained a description of the valise which the larger man carried away with him. It tallied with the description given by Fotheringham of the valise into which Jim c.u.mmings had put the stolen money.

Gathering his trophies together, Chip bid his talkative lady friend good-day, and immediately bent his steps toward the drug store, from which had come the bottle of liniment.

No, the druggist could not recollect what particular person had bought that bottle, but if the young man would call on Doctor B----, he could probably ascertain the fact from him, as the liniment was put up from the Doctor's prescription. Chip, in a short time, was ushered into the Doctor's presence.

Yes, the Doctor not only recollected the man, but gave a very close description of him. The man had come to him, suffering from a bad bruise or cut on the leg below the knee. Nothing serious, but so painful that it caused him to limp. He had made out the prescription of the unguent which the bottle had contained, and the man had paid for it. But he gave no name, nor in what manner he had received the injury.

Chip, satisfied with his work, left the physician, and whistling for his jehu, drove back to the hotel.

That the large man who had boarded with the landlady at ---- Chestnut street, and had bought and used the ointment, was identical with Jim c.u.mmings, the express robber, Chip had not the shadow of a doubt. The smaller man was, of course, his accomplice. He had seen where the men had secreted themselves a week before the robbery, he vas even pretty certain of their movements during that time, but the question was where had they gone AFTER the deed was committed. Who and where was the accomplice? What other men had aided and abetted them in the scheme?

With his mind full of these perplexing queries, he sought Mr.

Pinkerton's room, and laid before him the result of his search.

Mr. Pinkerton listened attentively and picking up the torn express tag, examined it carefully.

It was a portion of an ordinary tag, such as is used by the Adams Express Company.

It had been torn about the middle. The strings were still on it. From its appearance it had been addressed, and the person, not satisfied with his work, had torn it in two and thrown it on the floor, from which it had probably been swept in a corner, and eventually got under the edge of the carpet, where Chip had found it. It read.

ority

worth Kansas

[Ill.u.s.tration: a drawing of a torn ticket.]

On the reverse side in faint penciled characters were the words: "it to Cook," From the blurred appearance of the words it was evident that a rubber had been used to erase them. These words had escaped Chip's notice, but as soon as Mr. Pinkerton saw them, he said:

"I see it all, Chip. I see it all. A message was written on the tag, probably giving some instructions, such as 'Send it to Cook,' or 'Give it to Cook,' and the person sending it changing his mind about writing his instructions so openly tried to erase the words with a rubber, but failing to do it tore the tag up and addressed another one.