Jim Cummings; Or, The Great Adams Express Robbery Part 25

"That cur is right, you have the drop on us."

"Then you confess you committed the robbery?"

"Yes," he answered, curtly.

"Was Fotheringham in the ring, too?"

"Fotheringham hadn't a thing to do with it."

"How came it, then, that we found some of the Adams express letter heads in his trunk, and which were not the ones printed for the company?"

"Did you do that?"

"Yes; ten or twenty sheets."

"He never got them from us. The first time I ever saw him was when I jumped on his car in St. Louis."

Mr. Pinkerton looked at the frank, open face of the train robber, and wondered that such a man could have committed the crime for which he was now locked up in the "Pinkerton strong box." His manner and tone of sincerity, when he declared Fotheringham innocent of any complicity with him or his companions, carried conviction with it. He believed himself that a blunder had been made, and Fotheringham was wrongfully accused.

"I said, a short time ago," he continued, addressing Wittrock, "that you could lighten your sentence if you wanted to do so."

"How?"

"Tell me where you have hid the money."

Wittrock hesitated, and glanced at his companions. Perhaps he saw in their faces, that if he didn't tell, they would. He was willing, however, to give them the same benefit accorded him, and pointing to Weaver, he said:

"Weaver knows where the money is planted in Chicago, and Cook has some hid around his shanty in Kansas City. I put some under the large tree, just east of the gate of the old graveyard at Leavenworth."

A sign from Mr. Pinkerton to one of the detectives, and taking Weaver with him, the man left the room.

Shortly after, Mr. Pinkerton, with the remaining detectives, also took his leave, and the two express robbers were alone.

The door had scarcely closed, when, dropping his cool and calm demeanor, Wittrock sprang from his chair and confronting Haight with flaming eyes, he whispered in terrible tones:

"Moriarity turned informer, he swore away our liberty, and all our work has been turned to naught by the cowardly traitor. Listen to me, Haight, listen well, and when you see the poltroon tell him that Jim c.u.mmings swore he would cut his heart out. Aye! _I_ WILL DO IT, though he were guarded behind double bars. I'll search him out and tear the traitor heart from his breast and make him eat it, by G.o.d--make him eat it."

A gurgling sound and hissing gasps recalled the furious man to his senses, and he saw that in his frenzy of anger he had clutched his companion by the throat and was choking him purple in the face.

A few gasps, and Haight had recovered his breath, rubbing his throat ruefully, and edging away from his dangerous and excited companion.

His pa.s.sionate outburst over Wittrock regained his composure, and lighting a cigar, gave one to Haight, remarking in a light tone:

"I beg your pardon, old man, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Next time don't take me for Moriarity," puffing the peace-offering.

"Do you know whom I would like to see? Those two chaps that arrested me."

As if in answer to his call the door opened, and Sam, with Chip following, entered.

Wittrock recognized them, and with a hearty "Good-morning, gentlemen,"

motioned them to a seat, with as little ceremony as if the room was in his own house.

"Good-morning, Jim," said Chip, "I'm sorry we had to pull you in last night."

"It was a ground-hog case, eh?"

"You don't seem to recognize us," said Sam.

"Yes, I do; you gave me enough cause last night to remember you all my life."

"Suah enough, Ma.s.sa c.u.mmins," broke in Chip, imitating Scip's voice.

Wittrock gazed at the speaker, and in astonishment, cried:

"Scip!"

"Suah as you bawn, honey, I's de same ole Scip."

"And you?" turning to Sam.

"Doctor Skinner, at your service,"

"Then you're the two I have to thank for my being here."

"We helped the thing a little."

As they were talking, Weaver returned with the detective, bringing several packages of money, still in the original wrappers, which Wittrock had taken from the safe of the express car.

The sight of the recovered plunder placed a quietus on the arrested men, who now saw that the last link in the chain had been forged, and felt the walls of the penitentiary looming up before them.

Settling into a stubborn silence, they sullenly refused to utter another word, and maintained this position until they were placed on the train for St. Louis, where they were locked up to answer the indictments which the grand jury had already found against them.

Fotheringham, who had all this time laid in jail, still protested his innocence. He stated that the letter heads found in his trunk he had taken from the general desk in the company's office, and that the reason the signatures of Route Agent Bartlett was found on the paper, was due to the fact that he was about to write for a permit for a vacation Christmas, and simply practised writing the name.

This explanation was received with smiles, but his friends came to the rescue, and proved that he was in the habit of writing names on every bit of paper which came to hand. That this eccentricity was well known, and his explanation should be received with favor. The grand jury, however, found an indictment against him, and he was held as an accomplice to the robbery.

APPENDIX.

WHEN the now noted express car robbers, Wittrock, Haight and Weaver, were brought up for trial, they pleaded "guilty," and were sentenced to a term of years in the Missouri State penitentiary at Jefferson City. A few days later the train carried them to that city, and as they pa.s.sed the various places, Wittrock pointed out the gully in which was located the moons.h.i.+ner's cave where the plunder was divided, and then, as the train rounded the curve, he depicted, in graphic language, the struggle between Moriarity and himself, which was only ended by the freight train bearing down on them.

When the train arrived at Jefferson City the three prisoners were driven to the warden's office of the penitentiary, and, after going through the regular formalities, the striped suits were put on them, and they became CONVICTS.

Oscar Cook was sentenced to a term of years on the charge of being an accessory after the fact, but Moriarity, in consideration of the valuable services he had rendered the State, was not prosecuted.

The house of Nance, the widow, fortune-teller and "fence," was broken up, and with it the rendezvous of one of the most daring bands of highwaymen which had ever infested that section of the country, Nance escaped the clutches of the law and disappeared from sight.