"I think you are very foolish," was the reply. "The old man has lots of money, and if I was in your place I would do very different."
Frank was immovable, however, and the words of his companion produced no effect upon his mind.
The next morning Mr. Schulte endeavored in vain to induce Frank to change his determination, and at last, finding it impossible to do so, he paid him the amount that was due to him and dispensed, rather reluctantly, with his further services.
A few days after this, having completed the business which detained him in New York, the old gentleman announced his intention of departing, and, having his baggage transferred to the coach, he started for the depot, leaving Frank behind him, who now half regretted having so suddenly sundered his relations with his eccentric employer.
Bucholz"s opportunity had now arrived, and jumping into the coach, he took his seat beside the old gentleman, whose acquaintance he had cultivated during his brief sojourn at the hotel.
"You are going away, Mr. Schulte?" said Bucholz.
The old man nodded his head affirmatively, but made no audible reply.
"Which way are you going?" asked Bucholz, unabashed by the manner of the other.
"I am going down to South Norwalk, in Connecticut, to buy a farm which was advertised for sale there," answered Mr. Schulte.
"Where is Frank?" asked Bucholz, as though in ignorance of their separation. "Is he not going with you?"
"Frank is no longer in my employ. I have discharged him, and he must now look out for himself."
"Don"t you want somebody to take his place?" said Bucholz, eagerly.
"Yes, but I will get some one down there, I guess," replied the old man, as though he did not desire to talk any further about his affairs.
"Don"t you think I would suit you, Mr. Schulte? I have nothing to do, and would be very glad to take the place," urged Bucholz. The old gentleman looked up in surprise at this question, and said:
"You would not come for such wages as I would pay."
He named a sum ridiculously small, but Bucholz announced his perfect willingness to accept the position at the remuneration offered.
The old gentleman revolved the question in his mind for a few moments, gazing somewhat suspiciously at the young man the while, and at length said to Bucholz, who was anxiously awaiting his decision:
"Well, you may come along and see how you will like it. If it does not suit you, you can return, and we can make our arrangements afterward."
The matter was thus disposed of, and William Bucholz journeyed to South Norwalk with his employer. The gay soldier had become the humble servant, the prospective farmer had been transformed into the obsequious valet.
These two men had journeyed across the seas, for a far-off land, and thus had strangely met. The web of fate had woven itself around their two lives, and the compact this day made was only to be severed by the death, sudden and mysterious, of the eldest party to the agreement.
Who could have told that before many months had rolled away, that old man would have been brutally beaten to death, and that the bright-faced young man who sued for his favor would be sitting in a lonely cell under the dreadful charge of committing the foul deed!
Perhaps could either have glanced with prophetic vision into the future, their paths, by mutual consent, would have widely diverged, and their intimacy have ceased forever on that August afternoon.
THE DETECTION.
CHAPTER XVII.
_The Detective._--_His Experience and His Practice._--_A Plan of Detection Perfected._--_The Work is Begun._
The detective occupies a peculiar position in society, and is a prominent actor in many scenes of which the general public can have no knowledge. In his breast may be locked the secrets of many men who stand in proud pre-eminence before the public, and who are admired and respected for the possession of virtues that are but the cloak with which they hide the baser elements of their dispositions.
The canting hypocrite, whose voice may be loudest in chapel or meeting-house, and whose sanctimonious air and solemn visage will cover the sins of his heart to the general observer, is well known to the detective, who has seen that same face pale with apprehension, and has heard that same voice trembling with the fear of exposure.
That dapper young gentleman, who twirls his moustache and swings his cane so jauntily upon the promenade, is an object of admiration to many; but to the man who knows the secrets of his inner life another scene is opened, and he remembers when this same exquisite walked the cell of a prison--a convict guilty of a crime.
Through all the various grades of society the detective has wended his way, and he has looked into men"s hearts when infamy stared them in the face and dishonor impended over them.
His experience has rendered him almost incapable of surprise, or mobility of feeling. He is ever watchful for the deceptiveness of appearances, ever prepared to admit everything, to explain everything, and to believe nothing--but what he sees.
The judicial officer, with the nicety and legal ac.u.men of a thorough jurist, applies the technicalities of the law to the testimony submitted to him, but the detective observes with caution, and watches with suspicion all the odious combinations and circ.u.mstances which the law with all the power at its command cannot successfully reach.
He is made the unwilling, but necessary recipient of disgraceful details; of domestic crimes, and even of tolerated vices with which the law cannot deal.
If, when he entered upon his office, his mind teemed with illusions in regard to humanity, the experience of a year has dissipated them to the winds.
If he does not eventually become skeptical of the whole human race, it is because his experience has shown him that honor and vice may walk side by side without contamination; that virtue and crime may be closely connected, and yet no stain be left upon the white robe of purity, and that while upon the one hand he sees abominations indulged in with impunity, upon the other, he witnesses a sublime generosity which cannot be weakened or crushed. The modest violet may exhale its fragrance through an overgrowth of noxious weeds--and humanity bears out the simile.
He sees with contempt the proud bearing of the impudent scoundrels who are unjustly receiving public respect, but he sees also with pleasure many heroes in the modest and obscure walks of life, who deserve the rich rewards which they never receive.
He has so often pierced beneath the shining mask of virtue and discovered the distorted visage of vice, that he has almost reached a state of general doubtfulness until results shall demonstrate the correctness of his theories. He believes in nothing until it is proven--not in absolute evil more than in absolute good, and the results of his teachings have brought him to the conclusion that not men but events alone are worthy of consideration.
A knowledge of human nature is as necessary to him as that he shall have eyes and ears, and this knowledge experience alone can give.
In my eventful career as a detective, extending over a period of thirty years of active practice, my experience has been of such a character as to lead me to pay no attention to the outward appearance of men or things. The burglar does not commit his depredations in the open light of day, nor in the full view of the spectator. Nor does the murderer usually select the brilliantly-lighted highway to strike the fatal blow. Quietly and secretly, and with every imagined precaution against detection, the criminal acts, and it is only by equally secretive ways that he can be reached.
Weeks and months may elapse before he is finally brought to bay, but I have never known it to fail, at least in my experience, that detection will follow crime as surely as the shadow will follow a moving body in the glare of sunlight.
From the facts collected by my operatives, and from every other available source, I was now put into possession of every point in the case of the murder of Henry Schulte, that could be arrived at, and we were prepared to define a plan of operation, which, if strictly adhered to, bore the impress of promised success.
An old man had been foully murdered, and his body had been robbed of a large sum of money. Money, therefore, was the cause of the murder, and the recovery and identification of this would undoubtedly lead to the discovery of the criminal.
The matter, with all its attendant facts, was placed in the hands of Mr. Bangs, my general superintendent, and of my son, Robert A.
Pinkerton, who resolved to succeed in the undertaking if success were possible.
The details of our proposed line of action were submitted to the German Consul-General and to the State"s attorney, Mr. Olmstead. The former, while expressing doubts of the expediency of the plan proposed, determined finally to allow us to pursue such course as in our judgment was advisable, while the latter gentleman signified his hearty approval, as it accorded in many respects with a plan which he had previously thought feasible in this very matter.
Our relations with these gentlemen were of a nature somewhat peculiar. The German Consul was acting in a double capacity, and had two interests to serve. He represented the heirs of the murdered man, and in that relation he was desirous of recovering the money that had been stolen, as well as discovering who the murderer was and bringing him to justice. At the same time, he was expected to render whatever a.s.sistance that was in his power to the unfortunate man who stood accused of the crime, and who was also a native of Germany, requiring his protection. The German Consul also entertained a well-grounded faith in the innocence of Bucholz, and desired that every fact that would substantiate this opinion should be discovered and used for his benefit.
The State"s attorney, on the contrary, was firmly established in his belief that the murder had been committed by Bucholz, and none other, and his desire was that this theory should be proved beyond the possibility of doubt, in order that he, as the prosecuting officer of the State, should be enabled to uphold the dignity of outraged law, and to bring the guilty man to the justice which he believed was so richly merited.
It was determined, therefore, after a conference with these gentlemen, that my agents should pursue the investigation in such a manner as seemed best, and which gave greatest promise of eventual success.
Armed with this double authority, our arrangements were soon made, and active operations were inst.i.tuted. Whether our efforts resulted in victory or defeat, the sequel will prove.