The Burglar's Fate And The Detectives Part 13

CHAPTER XVII.

Manning Strikes the Trail--An Accommodating Tailor--Temporary Disappointment and final Success--The Detective reaches Minneapolis.

August, with its hot, sweltering days, when the very skies seemed to be a canopy of lurid, quivering heat; and when every breeze seemed freighted with a depressing warmth that almost rendered labor impossible, had pa.s.sed away, and we were now in the enjoyment of the clear, cool days of September. The skies were bluer, the air was purer, and the beautiful, golden autumn was welcomed with a grateful sense of pleasure and relief. Nearly a month had now elapsed since the robbery of the Geneva Bank, and, although we had accomplished much, our work was not yet completed. Thomas Duncan was still at liberty, and our task was yet unfinished. I have already, as briefly as I could, related the various events which had transpired since the robbery, and detailed the efforts which we had thus far made toward accomplishing the capture of the perpetrators of this crime. Of Thomas Duncan, however, I had learned comparatively little, and of his movements still less; and yet, at times, I found myself indulging in feelings of sympathy for the young man, who had so recklessly and inconsiderately thrown away the best chances of his life. Of a careless disposition and inclined to folly, I was convinced that until this time he had never stooped to commit a crime. This was his first flagrant violation of the law, and when I thought of him a hunted fugitive, seeking to hide himself from the vigilant eyes of the officers of the law, and of the quiet, peaceful and happy home of his parents, I could not repress a feeling of regret and sorrow for the wayward youth in this, the hour of his humiliation and trial. Far different from Eugene Pearson, who had no cares and no temptations to commit crimes, and who had practiced a scheme of vile deception and ingrat.i.tude for years, Thomas Duncan had been found in a moment of weakness and desperation, and under the influence of wily tempters, had yielded himself up to their blandishments, and had done that which had made him a felon. As to Eugene Pearson, the trusted, honored and respected official of the bank, who had deliberately planned and a.s.sisted in this robbery of his best friends, I had no words of palliation for his offenses; but for "Tod" Duncan, the weak and tempted victim of designing men and adverse circ.u.mstances, I experienced a sense of sympathy which I could not easily shake off.

Where was he now? Perhaps hiding in the forests of the far west, amid the barbaric scenes of savage life; perhaps giving himself up to a reckless life of dissipation, seeking in the delirium of intoxication a forgetfulness of the deed he had committed, and of the consequences which must befall him. How many long, weary nights since he fled from Geneva, with his ill-gotten booty, had he, even in the midst of a baccha.n.a.lian revel, started suddenly, as if in fear of the officer he so much dreaded, and then with a boastful laugh drank deeper to drown the agonies that oppressed him? Perhaps, on the other hand, the first step taken, the rest had come easy and without effort, and he had already become hardened and reckless. Whatever might be the case, we were as yet uninformed, and operative John Manning arrived in Sioux City with no definite clew to the missing man.

Seeking, as before, the a.s.sistance of the police authorities, Manning proposed to make a tour of the so-called houses of pleasure, which infest all cities, deeming it most likely that he would obtain some traces of Duncan by that means. This proved successful in a comparative degree, for in one of these places Manning found a gay young cyprian, who recognized Duncan's picture immediately. A bottle of very inferior wine at an exorbitant price was ordered, and under its influence the girl informed the detective that Duncan had come there alone one evening about two weeks prior to this time, and that she had accompanied him upon a drive. They had become quite familiar during their short acquaintance, and Duncan drank a great deal. On the following morning he had left the house, and stated that he was going to leave the city that day. Further than this, the girl could not say, and Manning must needs be content with even that trifling amount of encouragement for the present.

Manning had also been provided with a facsimile of Duncan's handwriting and signature, and he carefully examined the registers of the several hotels, in order to discover whether he had stopped at any of them under his own or any fict.i.tious name which resembled in any manner the one he bore, but without any success whatever.

On returning to the hotel, he occupied himself debating as to the best movement to make next. He was surprised on arriving there to find a telegram from Capt. Wallace awaiting him. On removing the inclosure he found a message informing him that Duncan had an acquaintance in Sioux City whose name was Griswold, and who was engaged in the tailoring business at that place.

Aided by this important piece of intelligence, the detective was not long in finding the establishment presided over by Mr. Griswold. That gentleman was located in the business section of the city, and his neatly arranged store was well stocked with goods of excellent quality and apparently of recent style. On entering the shop, Mr. Griswold was found perched on a table in the rear, his legs crossed, and with nimble fingers was engaged in the manufacture of some of the articles of his trade. He was a small, sharp-featured man, about forty, with a shrewd though not unpleasant face, and as he came briskly forward to greet a prospective customer, his countenance was wreathed in a smile that was almost irresistible.

"Can I do anything for you this morning?" was the polite salutation of the little tailor.

"Yes," replied the detective. "I want to look at some goods that will make a good suit of clothes."

"Certainly," replied the knight of the shears. "I have some excellent styles here, and I am sure I can give you your full satisfaction."

"I have no doubt of that," said Manning pleasantly. "I have been recommended here by my friend Tod Duncan, and he speaks very highly of you."

The face of the little tailor was again wreathed in smiles, as he delightedly inquired:

"Do you mean Duncan, the traveling man from Des Moines?"

"Yes," replied Manning, "that's the man; I am a traveling man myself, but in a different line, and I expected to meet him in this city, but I was disappointed. I guess he must have got ahead of me."

"Let me see," said Mr. Griswold, with his needle-p.r.i.c.ked finger pressed against his nose. "He was here about two weeks ago, I guess."

"Do you know which way he was going?"

"I think he said he was going to St. Paul. I made a suit of clothes for him in a great hurry, as he was very anxious to get away."

"What kind of a suit did he get?" asked Manning, now anxious to learn the clothing of the man, in order that he might the more accurately describe him.

"It was from this piece," said Mr. Griswold, throwing on the table a roll of dark green ca.s.simere. "That is one of the latest importations, and as fine a piece of goods as I have in the house."

"I like that myself," said the detective. "Would you object to giving me a small piece of it as a sample? I want to show it to a friend of mine at the hotel, who has pretty good taste in such matters."

"Of course not," replied Mr. Griswold, as he clipped off a piece of the cloth, little dreaming of the use to which the detective would put it.

Declining to make a selection until he had sought the advice of an imaginary friend, and stating that he would probably call again in the evening, Manning took his leave of the little tailor. The detective then repaired to the railroad ticket office, where he had a friend of long standing, from whom he hoped to derive some material information.

At the railroad station he found his friend on duty, and after the usual friendly salutations, he requested a few moments' private conversation.

Being admitted to an inner office, Manning at once displayed the photograph of Duncan, and asked:

"Harry, have you seen that face about here, say within about two weeks?"

Taking the picture, and regarding it intently for a moment, he said:

"Why, yes--that's Duncan from Des Moines. I know him very well. He has been here often."

"Well, has he been here within two weeks?"

"Yes, he was here about two weeks ago on a spree, and he bought a ticket for St. Paul."

"Are you quite sure about that?"

"Perfectly sure," answered the ticket agent. "I remember it distinctly, and what impressed it the more forcibly upon my mind is the fact that he wanted to know if I could give him a ticket on the Northern Pacific road from here, and I told him he would have to go to St. Paul for that."

"Did he mention any particular point on the railroad that he wanted a ticket for?" asked Manning.

"No, I think not. He simply said he was making for Dakota."

Ascertaining that a train would leave for St. Paul in an hour, the detective purchased a ticket for that city, and thanking the agent for his information, he returned to the hotel to make arrangements for continuing his journey. Before leaving, however, he telegraphed me his destination, and what he had been able to learn.

From this information it was evident that Duncan was endeavoring to reach the far west, and there seek a refuge among some of the numerous mining camps which abound in that section of the country, hoping by that means to successfully elude pursuit, should any be made for him. It was plainly evident to me that he was entirely unaware of being followed, and, in fact, of anything that had taken place since the robbery, and that he was simply following his own blind inclinations to hide himself as effectually as he could.

The first task performed by Manning after reaching St. Paul, was to examine all the hotel registers, in the hope of discovering some traces of an entry resembling the peculiar handwriting of Duncan. He also took the precaution to quietly display the photograph of the young man to all the clerks of the various hostelries, trusting that some one would recognize him as one who had been their guest on some previous occasion.

In this, too, he was disappointed. Among the many to whom he displayed Duncan's picture, not one of them had any recollection of such an individual.

Feeling somewhat disheartened at this non-success, Manning next sought the chief of police, and enlisted his services in our behalf. That evening, in company with an officer, he made a tour among the houses of ill repute, and here, too, disappointment awaited him. Not one among the number whom he approached had any knowledge of the man, and therefore could give him no information.

Tired and puzzled and vexed, he at length was compelled to return to the hotel, and seek his much-needed repose.

His experience in St. Paul had thus far been far from satisfactory, and yet the thought of abandoning his investigations in that city never occurred to him. He had too frequently been compelled to battle with unpromising circ.u.mstances in the past, to allow a temporary discomfiture to dishearten him now. He felt that he was upon the right track, that Duncan had certainly come from Sioux City to St. Paul, but whether he had remained here any length of time, or had pushed on without stopping, was the question that bothered him immensely. Resolving, therefore, to renew his efforts in the morning, he soon fell asleep.

On the morrow, when he descended to the office of the hotel, preparatory to partaking of his morning repast, he noticed with some little surprise that a new face was behind the counter.

Surmising that this might be the night clerk, yet unrelieved from his duties, and that Duncan might have arrived during the time he officiated, Manning approached him, and propounded the usual question.

When he brought forth the photograph, to his intense delight, the clerk recognized it at once. Turning to the register and hastily running over the leaves, he pointed to a name inscribed thereon.

"That's the man," said he confidently.

Manning looked at the name indicated, and found scrawled in a very uncertain hand:

"_John Tracy, Denver, Col._"

"He came in on a night train," continued the clerk. "He only remained to breakfast and went away shortly afterward."

"Have you any idea which way he went?" inquired Manning.

"No, I cannot tell you that. He left the hotel shortly after breakfast in a hack. He did not return after that, but sent the hackman here to pay his bill and to obtain his valise. He acted very strange while he was here, and I felt somewhat suspicious of him."

"Can you tell me the name of this hackman?" now asked Manning.