Walker of the Secret Service/Chapter 5

It was a soft October night with a bare threat of frost in the air; the sky gray with stars, and a vast silence.

Three men were lying out before a fire of tree limbs in a forest. It was a country of mountains, the foothills of the Alleghenies extending westward toward the Ohio. In every direction were wooded hills, the rough mountainous foothills of the great range as it broke down westward toward the flat lands.

For some reason that I do not know, Mooney was confident that he had finally located the treasure train for which he had been always looking.

As I have said before, in this narrative, I did not know what sources of information were available to this man, but I think he had some cue to what was being shipped. At any rate he was confident that, at last, he was about to make “the great haul.”

We had come into this country together and had got off at a town some fifty miles distant from the point at which we were now lying before our wood fire. From this town we had each taken a different train to a station in the direction of the place at which Mooney intended to make the holdup. I had gone to a station farthest along the line; from the two other stations, Mooney and White had walked along the track until they picked me up. We came finally to the water tank in the mountains, at which point Mooney had determined to hold up the New York & St. Louis Express.

He knew all about this train; knew that it stopped at this water tank in the mountains on schedule time, and knew what it carried on this night.

We had all gone about a mile and a half east of the tank where a small stream came down out of the mountain. We had followed this stream perhaps a quarter of a mile into the wood and there we had built the fire.

At midnight we got up and followed the little stream down to the track; here we divided; White was to go about two miles west along the track, while Mooney and I were to take up a position in the shadow of the water tank.

We were barely in position, in the heavy shadow, when I heard the train; it seemed far off, a low rumble in the mountains. Then suddenly it thundered through a gap in the hills and pulled up by the tank. It required only a few moments to take water, and as the train pulled out Mooney and I slipped from the heavy shadow and swung up on the rear of the tender.

We climbed very quickly down towards the engine cab.

Here I very nearly had a serious accident. I caught hold of something in the darkness which looked like a hand rail. It proved to be a rake used by the fireman, and it was hot. The in side of my hand was scorched. I made some exclamation unconsciously indicating that my hand was burned. The fireman and engineer both turned toward us.

They were met by Mooney, the black mask over his face and a pistol in his hand.

I had recovered myself and stood now beside him, also masked and with a weapon. It was the old form of mask which Mooney had invented; attached to the inside of the hat and loaded with shot to hold it down. The men in the engine cab made no resistance. The fire man merely stood with his mouth open, like a child before a ghost. The engineer had some composure.

“Don’t shoot,” he said; “what’s the order?”

Mooney, told the engineer to stop opposite a fire he would see on the right hand side of the track about a mile further on. With the pistol at his temple the engineer was not slow to obey this direction. Mooney had told White to build a fire beside the track when he reached the point about two miles west.

White had suggested a flash light as being better for this purpose.

But Mooney said there was always a possibility of a wrecking train, or some special, passing, and if so, the man with the flash light would stop the wrong train, but if it were a fire, built in the woods, a passing train would give it no attention, as merely a hobo camp.

White had followed his direction and we presently pulled up by the fire. Mooney left me to guard the engineer while he took the fireman in front of him and went down the side of the train. He made the fireman cut the train in two back of the mail car.

I stood in the door of the cab with my weapon on the engineer. I knew when the train had been cut, and, as Mooney had directed me, I ordered the engineer to pull forward for fifty yards and stop. Mooney sent the fireman back to the rear of the train after the mail car had been uncoupled, then he went forward and joined White.

The two men took the clerks out of the mail car; they selected the chief clerk, then they sent the remainder of the mail clerks to the rear of the train. There was a touch of thoughtfulness in Mooney’s consideration for these men; there was a chill of frost in the air and he told them to put on their coats before they went out into the night.

When these men had gone back to the rear of the train, Mooney, White, and the chief clerk got into the mail car, then they signaled the engineer to move ahead. I understood the signal and when the engineer paid no attention to it I spoke to him as roughly as I could.

“Go ahead,” I said, “until you are stopped with the air signal.”

He pulled the train out without a word, and when he got the air signal he stopped.

Here Mooney left White in the car with the clerk and got down on the ground in order to keep watch for any one who might be coming. I learned afterwards precisely what happened in that car. The clerk made some objections and Mooney spoke to him from the darkness before the open door:

“Friend,” he said, “you are steppin’ on a trigger.”

It was the end of every form of hesitation.

The man pointed out the mail sacks at once. White cut the straps and dumped the contents on the floor. He found a lot of securely sealed packages which he knew from experience contained money. Tearing open the corners of a few of them he discovered that they were bank notes. He spoke to Mooney who now came up to the door of the car.

White was amazed; he realized that they had found the long-looked-for big haul.

They selected one of the light mail sacks and put the packages into it. Mooney then came forward to the engine. White sent the mail clerk back down the track. Mooney now took charge of the engineer.

He made him pull down the track for perhaps half a mile, then he stopped and put him off. He ran the engine, himself, for perhaps a mile farther, then stopped again. White and I got out of the train and Mooney gave the engine just enough steam at the throttle so that it would move off slowly and stop a mile or so farther on, then he swung down on the ground and joined us. He did not open the throttle of the engine for he knew that on the twisting road through the mountain the train might go off the track on the sharp curves.

It was his policy never to do unnecessary damage. He did not wish to wreck the train or cause the possible wreck of any other train traveling in the night.

We turpentined our shoes, and started in a due line north by west toward a town on the Ohio River. We traveled all night. When daylight appeared we stopped and hid ourselves in the mountains. Here, Mooney and White opened the mail sack and examined the packages of money.

They had one hundred and two thousand dollars in bank notes.

But it was not in the form of such bank notes as one is accustomed to see. The notes were in sheets and unsigned, in the form that the United States Treasury is accustomed to send currency to the national banks.

This discovery did not seem to impress Mooney but it put White in despair.

For a long time Mooney said nothing; finally he took White to one side and talked with him; presently they came back to me. He showed me the sheets of notes and pointed out that they could not be used. They lacked the signatures of the bank officers and an attempt to pass them would lead immediately to one’s arrest.

They determined now to hide the money and go on.

It was necessary to put it in some place where it would not be open to the rain. For this purpose they looked about for a hollow tree. Finally they found a chestnut on the wooded ridge of the hill. They put the mail sack into the hollow of this tree—crowding it up tightly so that it would not fall down—then they skillfully filled the hollow of the tree with leaves and a few broken branches, removing with care every trace of their work.

We went on.

We slept during the day, in the leaves, hidden by a tree top or covered by a log and traveled at night. It was a long tiresome journey. We carried provisions for three days. We had a compass, flash lights, and a map; but it was heavy traveling in the night, over the ridges of hills, across ravines, and through the dense undergrowth of the valleys.

Finally, we came out before the town on the Ohio. Here Mooney handed me five hundred dollars and told me to return to the circus; giving me the name of the town for which I should purchase a ticket at the station.

I never saw either of the two men again.

But I learned afterward what happened to them.

It was by no means the intention of these two men to abandon this fortune in bank notes.

They brought the money in after I was gone. White went into the town and bought a big traveling bag in a pawnshop. They put the notes into it and checked it to a city in the southwest. But first Mooney examined the notes, taking down the names of the national banks to which they were consigned.

Then they made a rather extended tour together.

They went to the cities in which these national banks were located and picked up there bills issued by the banks; this gave them the signatures their money required.

Mooney showed White how to get the signatures on the currency.

He used a simple and ingenious method. He placed the bill of which he wished to take off the signature on a piece of glass about 3 x 6 inches. He procured a pasteboard box and cut a hole in it somewhat larger than the length and width of the signature; then he placed the glass with the bill on it over this hole. He then laid a piece of white paper over the glass and put a high candle-power light inside the box. It was then an easy matter to trace the signature he wanted on the white paper.

They then made a rubber stamp of the signature; making first a steel etching of the traced signature and after that the stamp. They then cut the bills, stamped them with the proper signatures, divided the money and separated.

It seemed that the two men were not of one mind about the risk that would follow the use of this money. Each adhered to his own judgment. They were agreed upon one thing, that having made their great haul, this form of criminal adventure was ended. They were through with train holdups. They had each some fifty thousand dollars in currency.

After having divided the money, Mooney followed the old plan of trusting his share of it in the traveling bag. He checked it to another point farther into the southwest, while White remained where he was.

I am going to tell you what happened to White.

This daring robbery, with the loss of the big consignment of bank notes of the Treasury, produced immense excitement in the country.

At two o’clock on the night of the holdup, the conductor in charge of this train reported from the first telegraph office that he could reach, that his train had been held up one mile west of that point, by masked men who compelled the members of the crew, except the chief mail clerk and engineer, to get off, and cut the mail car from the rest of the train, taking it west with the engine.

The chief clerk returned at three o’clock in the morning and reported that the robbers had stopped and compelled him and the engineer to get off. They had then taken the engine and car farther west.

At 3:00 o’clock the engineer reported that he was on his way west looking for the engine.

At 4:15 o’clock he called from a way station, saying that he had found the engine and would come back at once for the rest of the train.

Immediately special trains were sent out, taking United States Marshals, the sheriffs of neighboring counties, officers, and bloodhounds. In a very short time Secret Service men, post-office inspectors, and all the best experts in the service of the government were on the scene.

But they were totally unable to discover anything.

The turpentine which we had used made the use of the bloodhounds of no benefit to the detectives, and it was not possible to discover the point at which we had left the engine and mail car. Nevertheless the search was not abandoned.

It extended itself now in wider directions.

The banks throughout the country were notified of the serial numbers of this currency; and the thing which Mooney, wiser than White, foresaw, presently occurred. A clearing house in the southwestern city to which White had gone, notified the Treasury Department at Washington that one of these serial numbers had passed through.

The Treasury Department acted at once.

It sent two officials to this city to run the matter down. These men were careful, experienced and able detectives. They set on foot every investigation which seemed likely to have any result; but they were not able to discover the source of the note which had been observed by the clearing house.

But they remained in charge of the undertaking.

Finally fortune favored them. One day, a young girl came in to the post office to deposit part of her salary at the Postal Savings window. A bill which she offered was of the serial numbers of the stolen currency. The post-office clerk who had been instructed to look out for these numbers immediately called the two government detectives to the window.

When questioned, the girl said she had gotten this bill from a machinery company as part of her salary.

The two detectives went to this company.

They found that this particular note had been brought in by one of their drivers who had received it from a man named White. They discovered that this man White had a machine shop in the city.

They did not at once undertake to interview White.

They shadowed the machine shop until they had an opportunity to get very careful observations of White. They had little data to go on, but they thought he was about the size of one of the bandits described by the mail clerks.

They examined the names attached to the note and finally determined they had been made with a rubber stamp. They, then, interviewed all the local stamp dealers, but could find no one who had any knowledge of such a stamp.

However, they remained in the city and continued to shadow White.

They followed him from place to place, and wherever he made purchases they would go in after him and demand of the storekeeper the note which White had passed, giving another in place of it. They would, then, have the person from whom they had obtained the note write his name on it so that it could later be identified as having been received from this man White.

In this manner they finally got a number of bills bearing the serial numbers of the notes which had been taken in the train robbery. But this was all the evidence they were able to obtain.

Finally when investigations in other directions all failed to bring anything more to light, they determined to arrest White. Accordingly one day they followed him when he got on a street car at his machine shop, and when he got down, at some place of business in the city, they stepped up to him and asked him if his name was White. He said it was; they then asked him to go with them to help in regard to some forgeries. White very willingly said that he would be glad to help them in any way he could and would go if they insisted; but that he knew nothing about any forgeries.

They took him to their office in the post-office building.

Here he was searched and a roll of these lost bills found in his possession. They were all on the same bank, and, what seemed significant, their serial numbers ran consecutively.

When questioned about where he had obtained this money, White replied that he had won it in a poker game from two men who had come into his shop several days before.

The two government detectives did not believe this story.

They talked to White a long time, but his statement could not be shaken. He described the two men with whom he had played poker, gave in detail their inquiries about some work they wished done at his shop, pointing out the exact time at which the thing occurred, and how the poker game had been led up to. He did not know the names of the two men, but gave precisely their description.

The two government detectives remained unconvinced and they determined upon an old experiment.

They took White to jail and locked him into a cell. Then they went out, returned by the rear entrance and placed themselves where they could watch the man in the cell. Here White, now very much concerned, fell unconsciously into habits which he had acquired in similar surroundings. He put his hands behind him and began to pace up and down the cell—three steps down, three steps up, slowly, back and forth—his head dropped forward in reflection.

The two government detectives watched him for a few minutes, then they went out. They decided that White must have a penetentiary record somewhere on account of his actions in the cell. The two detectives went down to the telegraph office and sent a message to every penetentiary in the United States, giving an accurate description of White, and the holdup in which they believed him to have taken part. They received a reply from the warden of a penitentiary in the northwest, saying that a man answering that description had served time for train robbery.

The detectives now determined to take White north for trial.

On this trip White escaped from the custody of the officials. The manner of his escape was extraordinarily clever. It was done without a struggle of any character. White simply disappeared.

The two detectives were traveling with White in the stateroom of a pullman. The design of these staterooms is familiar to every one. On the right of the entrance door is a couch running the full length of the side of the room. On the immediate left is the lavatory and next to that, also on the left, are the two double seats facing each other across a small aisle. White sat next to the window on the first seat beside a guard. The two government detectives were on the couch facing White.

About ten o’clock at night and just before the train pulled into a station, one of the government detectives went out into the car to look up a porter in order to have the berths made up for the night. As he left the stateroom, the other detective arose and stood in the open door.

White, who had been sitting apparently asleep, got up slowly, yawned, extended his arms and started leisurely toward the lavatory door. The main door to the stateroom stood open. It was hinged to swing inward and when so open covered the door to the lavatory. This door to the stateroom was now about half open and the government detective was standing in the door.

White had barely space enough to pass behind this door in order to reach the lavatory, but he edged himself deliberately through without arousing the slightest suspicion. Before the government detective could step around the stateroom door in order to follow White, he had entered the lavatory, slammed the door and locked it.

The government detective, now alarmed, began to beat on the steel door and demand that White open it.

He received no answer, and, as it was impossible to break in the door, he ordered the train stopped. Leaving the guard before the door of the stateroom the two government detectives now jumped down from either end of the car. These two men hurried toward each other along the side of the car on which the stateroom was located. But they found no sign of White. They then discovered that White had made his way through the small window in the lavatory and dropped off the moving train.

The authorities had now a definite description of White.

This they put out over the country, and an other great man hunt began. It was the theory of the officials that White, like any other criminal who was being sought after, would at once undertake to leave the country. White knew this and he determined upon precisely the reverse of this course. He selected the most conspicuous and consequently the very last place that detectives on the search for a criminal would be likely to look.

They were finally able to trace him to Cincinnati. They had his photograph and thousands of circulars were struck off from it and posted in every depot and public place in the country; sent out broadcast to every city and every federal officer. The clew in Cincinnati mysteriously vanished.

But this man, clever and resourceful, was not fated to escape.

One day a medical student in a college in the middle west called on the local post-office inspector. He said that he had seen the poster describing White, which had been placed all over the country and had observed the resemblance to a fellow student in the college. There was a reward of $1000, and he wished to obtain this reward. The student studied the description given in the poster. One of the items of description was that the man wanted had a split thumb nail. The student waited for an opportunity to observe his suspected associate’s thumb. He found that the man’s hand corresponded to the description; “ridge extending the full length of the thumb nail on the left hand … the thumb nail has evidently been split open and the ridge left as a scar … the third finger of the left hand is somewhat crooked and stiff.”

The government authorities were at once notified by the post-office inspector. The suspected student was shadowed, identified as White and arrested.

He was brought north; this time attended with every precaution and handcuffed to a guard. Here he was tried for the robbery, convicted and sentenced to twenty-five years in the penitentiary.

Thus closed the career of White. The finish of Mooney was more adventurous and spectacular.