Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1895, by H. W.
  MUDGETT, M. D., in the Clerk’s Office of the Librarian of Congress,
                         at Washington. D. C.




                           HOLMES’ OWN STORY

                         IN WHICH THE ALLEGED
                  MULTI-MURDERER AND ARCH CONSPIRATOR
                             TELLS OF THE
              Twenty-two Tragic Deaths and Disappearances
                 IN WHICH HE IS SAID TO BE IMPLICATED
                                 WITH
                   MOYAMENSING PRISON DIARY APPENDIX

               PHILADELPHIA: BURK & MCFETRIDGE CO. 1895.

                            COPYRIGHT, 1895




                               PREFACE.


The following pages are written under peculiar circumstances, perhaps
the most peculiar that ever attended the birth of a literary work.
Incarcerated in prison and awaiting trial for the most serious offense
known to the law, it has been written only after mature deliberation,
against the advice of my friends, and in direct opposition to the
positive instructions of my counsel, who have attempted in every way to
dissuade me from its publication; but the circumstances under which I
am placed, in my judgment, make it imperative that I should disregard
all of these considerations.

For months I have been vilified by the public press, held up to
the world as the most atrocious criminal of the age, directly and
indirectly accused of the murder of at least a score of victims, many
of whom have been my closest personal friends.

The object of this extended and continuous enumeration of alleged
crimes has been apparently to create a public sentiment so prejudiced
against me as to make a fair and impartial trial impossible. My friends
have been alienated, my nearest kindred plunged in grief, and the world
horrified by the bloody recital of imaginary crimes.

I feel therefore justified in the course I am now pursuing, and
am impelled by an imperative sense of duty to publicly deny these
atrocious calumnies. The following pages will therefore be found to
contain a simple and complete narrative of my entire life, and a full
history of my associations and dealings with Mr. and Mrs. B. F. Pitezel
and their children, the alleged disappearance of Minnie Williams and
the tragic death of her sister Nannie.

My sole object in this publication is to vindicate my name from the
horrible aspersions cast upon it, and to appeal to a fair-minded
American public for a suspension of judgment, and for that free and
fair trial which is the birthright of every American citizen, and the
pride and bulwark of our American Constitution.

                                                            H. H. M.




Come with me, if you will, to a tiny, quiet New England village,
nestling among the picturesquely rugged hills of New Hampshire. This
little hamlet has for over a century been known as Gilmanton Academy.
So called in honor of an institution of learning of that name, founded
there by a few sturdy, self-denying and God-fearing men, over a hundred
years ago, who, could they now leave their silent resting places in the
church-yard near by, and again wander for an hour through these quiet
streets, would, with the exception of new faces, see little change.

Here, in the year 1861, I, Herman W. Mudgett, the author of these
pages, was born. That the first years of my life were different from
those of any other ordinary country-bred boy, I have no reason to
think. That I was well trained by loving and religious parents, I know,
and any deviations in my after life from the straight and narrow way
of rectitude are not attributable to the want of a tender mother’s
prayers or a father’s control, emphasized, when necessary, by the
liberal use of the rod wielded by no sparing hand.

On my fifth birthday I was given my first suit of boy’s clothing, and
soon after was sent to the village school-house where the school was
“kept.” I had daily to pass the office of one village doctor, the door
of which was seldom if ever barred. Partly from its being associated
in my mind as the source of all the nauseous mixtures that had been my
childish terror (for this was before the day of children’s medicines),
and partly because of vague rumors I had heard regarding its contents,
this place was one of peculiar abhorrence to me, and this becoming
known to two of my older schoolmates, they one day bore me struggling
and shrieking beyond its awful portals; nor did they desist until I had
been brought face to face with one of its grinning skeletons, which,
with arms outstretched, seemed ready in its turn to seize me. It was a
wicked and dangerous thing to do to a child of tender years and health,
but it proved an heroic method of treatment, destined ultimately to
cure me of my fears, and to inculcate in me, first, a strong feeling
of curiosity, and, later, a desire to learn, which resulted years
afterwards in my adopting medicine as a profession.

When I was about eight years old, an unusual occurrence took place in
our village—the arrival of an itinerant photographer. He was a man
apparently suffering from some slight lameness, and gladly accepted
my offer to act as his errand boy, and in payment for my services he
was to execute for me a likeness of myself. One morning upon going to
his office I found the door still locked. It was immediately opened,
however, by the artist, sufficiently for him to hand to me a small
wooden block broken in two pieces. He instructed me to take them to
our village wagon maker and have him make a new one, which I was to
return to him. I did this, and upon entering the office again, I found
the artist partially clothed and sitting near the door, which he at
once locked. He then proceeded to remove the greater portion of one
of his legs, and not having known until then what was the cause of
his lameness, in fact, not ever having seen or even known that such
a thing as artificial limbs existed, my consternation can better be
imagined than described. Had he next proceeded to remove his head in
the same mysterious way I should not have been further surprised. He
must have noticed my discomfiture, for as soon as his mending process
had sufficiently progressed, he quickly placed me in a dim light, and
standing upon his whole leg, and meantime waving the other at me, he
took my picture, which in a few days he gave to me. I kept it for many
years, and the thin terror-stricken face of that bare footed, home-spun
clad boy I can yet see.

In those days in our quiet village, so remote from the outside
world, that even a locomotive whistle could scarcely be heard,
daily newspapers were rare and almost unknown, our usual source of
information being the weekly papers and a few periodicals; and in one
of these I saw a glowing offer, emphasized by a fine illustration of a
gold watch and chain, a few of which would be sold at a comparatively
trifling sum. Surely this was for me the one opportunity of my life,
and although my entire wealth at that time consisted mostly of pennies
and other small coins, almost every one having for me its own peculiar
history, all of which I converted into more transferable shape by
exchanging them with our shoemaker, who was also my confidant in the
matter, was hardly more than sufficient to buy the watch.

I was far more concerned lest, before my order should reach the distant
city, all would be sold, than troubled over the depleted condition of
my purse. Then came anxious days of waiting and later the arrival of
the watch, and after going alone to my room to wind it and deciding
which pocket was most suitable for its reception, and still later going
to the several stores and some houses, bargaining beforehand with a
little friend that, in consideration of his accompanying me and at each
place asking in an unconcerned manner what time it was, that he should
wear it the greater part of the day, although I was to be present that
no harm befell my treasure; but before it came time for him to wear it
the wheels had ceased to turn, the gold had lost its lustre, and the
whole affair had turned into an occasion of ridicule for my companions
and of self-reproach to myself.

My first falsehood and my first imprisonment occurred synchronously,
and were occasioned as follows:—

One morning as I was driving our small herd of cows, which had a few
days previously been increased by the addition of several others
belonging to a neighbor, to their usual feeding ground, outside the
limits of the village, an inquisitive neighbor met me and asked, “Whose
be they?” I replied very proudly, “Ours.” “What, all of them?” “Yes,
_all_, everyone, and that best one is mine, my own.” An hour later upon
returning to my home I found father waiting to receive me. He demanded
why I had told Richard the lie about the cows, but before I could
answer him my mind was most effectually taken up by the production of
an implement, to which I was no stranger, and by its vigorous use.
After this I was consigned to an upper room and strictly enjoined to
speak to no one, and for the ensuing day I should have no food. My
absence was soon noticed by my playmates and the cause ascertained,
and not long after upon looking out of the window I saw my little
friend perched upon the fence nearby, looking almost as disconsolate as
I, and later in the day, after sundry pantomime communications he came
with a liberal supply of food, which, with the aid of the ever present
ball of cord, which you can find in almost every boy’s pocket, I was
soon enjoying. Accompanying the food was a note written in his scrawly
hand encouraging me to “never mind,” and that upon the following
Saturday we would go down and let Richard’s cows into his cornfield.

But this was not done, for late at night when the shadows in my room
had assumed strange and fearful shapes, my mother came and taking me
into her own room, knelt down and earnestly plead with me and for me,
and it was many days before I forgot that lesson. This little note,
however, with two others form a unique collection. The second was a
joint production of my friend and myself, addressed to an unpopular
school teacher one vacation upon our hearing that some slight financial
calamity had overtaken him. This was done with the belief that a new
teacher was to take his place during the coming year, but in this we
were mistaken. I had abundant evidence during the first day of the
following term that he had received our letter, when he changed my seat
from one I had long occupied, and which was very favorably located for
looking into the street, to the opposite side of the room. My seatmate
was a very disagreeable and unpopular girl.

The third note was also a joint production, written upon brown paper
and tacked upon the barn door of a village farmer, who had, as we
thought, misused us. It was not a lengthy note, the words being “Who
will pull your weeds next year?” This note was occasioned by the farmer
engaging us for a stipulated price to rid a field of a large weed that
is common there, and a great hindrance to the healthy growth of other
products. The weeds were tall and strong, and the pittance we were to
receive was ridiculously small for the amount of work. But when we had
finished and held out our tiny, blistered hands for our pay, it was not
forthcoming. We went again and again for it, and being convinced it
was useless to go more, we returned quietly with two large baskets to
where we had piled the weeds, to be dried preparatory to their being
burned, and very soon thereafter the seeds from all that we had pulled
were sown broadcast over the field again. It is, perhaps, a small
matter to speak of here, but it so well illustrates the principle that
many times in my after life influenced me to make my conscience become
blind, that I thought well to write of it.

My first business ventures consisted of a pair of twin calves that I
raised, and later to bring home, on a stormy winter day, a tiny lamb
given to me by a farmer, which, in time, together with a few others
purchased later, expanded into a flock of about forty sheep. Both
ventures were failures, however, from a financial point of view, but
the failures were nothing compared with the collapse of the innumerable
air castles which had depended upon the result of these speculations.

One day I found a purse containing about $40; an immense sum at that
time to me. In the purse were other papers showing me plainly who the
owner was. I know that I hesitated, but only for a moment; and having
made up my mind could not too soon return it to its owner, and because
I had hesitated was adverse to receiving the reward offered me.

When I was about nineteen years of age (the preceding years having
been filled in for the most part with six to nine months each year of
preparatory studies and the balance of the time devoted to work and
teaching) I was prepared to enter the Dartmouth College, but instead
of doing so, I decided to commence a medical course at once, and, with
this object in view, I matriculated at the University of Vermont, at
Burlington, where I remained one college year, deciding, before it
had expired, to complete my course at some larger college, and the
following September found me at Ann Arbor, Mich. After having paid
my college fees, bought my books and other articles necessary for my
second year in college, I found myself hundreds of miles away from
friends and relatives, and with about $60 in money with nine months of
hard study before me, allowing but little time for outside work if I
wished to keep up in my studies with the other members of my class.

About this time I first became acquainted with a Canadian, a
fellow-student, and from then until the time of his death he was one of
the very few intimate friends I have ever allowed myself.

The limits of this book will not allow me to write the many quaint and
some ghastly experiences of our medical education were I otherwise
disposed to do so. Suffice it to say, that they stopped far short of
desecration of country graveyards, as has been repeatedly charged, as
it is a well-known fact that in the State of Michigan all the material
necessary for dissection work is legitimately supplied by the State.
At the end of my junior year I entered into an agreement with a fluent
representative of a Chicago firm to spend my vacation in the northwest
portion of Illinois representing his firm as a book agent. In this
venture I committed the first really dishonest act of my life.

The firm as well as the book itself, from the sale of which I had
been assured I could earn hundreds of dollars during my vacation, was
a fraud, and after the most strenuous efforts, having succeeding in
selling a sufficient number to defray my expenses and pay my return
fare to Ann Arbor, I came back without making a settlement with the
firm there, and for the remainder of my vacation earned what money I
could in and about the college city.

I could hardly count my Western trip a failure, however, for I had seen
Chicago.

The remainder of my medical course differed very little from the first
two years; filled perhaps more completely with hard work and study,
and almost wholly devoid of pleasure and recreation. At last, however,
in June, 1884, our examinations were passed, our suspense was ended
and I left Ann Arbor with my diploma, a good theoretical knowledge of
medicine, but with no practical knowledge of life and of business.
After taking a vacation of less than one week in my old New Hampshire
home, I went to Portland, Maine, and engaged with a large business firm
of that city to represent them in Northern New York in the sale of
their products; my prime object being to find some favorable location
in this way where I could become a practitioner. Such an opening was
not easily found, however, and I accepted a winter school to teach at
Mooers Forks, N. J., and later opened an office in that village. Here
I stayed for one year doing good and conscientious work, for which I
received plenty of gratitude but little or no money, and in the fall of
1885 starvation was staring me in the face, and finally I was forced to
sell first one and then the last of my two horses, and having done this
I resolved to go elsewhere before all of my means were again exhausted.

During my long years there in New York I had abundant time to work out
the details of a scheme that my University friend, before referred
to, and myself had talked over during our hungry college days as a
possible last resort in case our medical practice proved a failure; and
from certain letters I had received from him, I judged that he, too,
had not found all his hardships at an end upon receiving his diploma.
I therefore went to where he was located, and found that though his
experience had been less disheartening than my own, it had from a
pecuniary standpoint been far from successful. During this visit we
carefully planned the following method of obtaining money:—

At some future date a man whom my friend knew and could trust, who then
carried considerable life insurance, was to increase the same so that
the total amount carried should be $40,000; and as he was a man of
moderate circumstances he was to have it understood that some sudden
danger he had escaped (a runaway accident) had impelled him to more
fully protect his family in the future. Later he should become addicted
to drink, and while temporarily insane from its use should, as it would
appear afterwards, kill his wife and child.

In reality they were to go to the extreme West and await his arrival
there at a later date. Suddenly the husband was to disappear, and
some months later a body badly decomposed and dressed in the clothing
he was known to wear was to be found, and with it a statement to the
effect that while in a drunken rage he had killed his family and had
shipped their dismembered bodies to two separate and distant warehouses
to conceal the crime, first having partially preserved the remains by
placing them in strong brine. That he did not care to live longer, and
that his property and insurance should pass to a relative whom he was
to designate in this letter.

At the proper time he was to join his family in the West, and remain
there permanently, the relative collecting the insurance, a part of
which was to be sent to him, a part to be retained by the relative,
and the remainder to be divided between us. This scheme called for a
considerable amount of material, no less than three bodies in fact.
This difficulty was easily overcome, however, so long as it was
supposed that they were needed for experimental purposes, but no doctor
could call for three bodies at one time without exciting suspicion, and
so it was arranged that I was to go to Chicago for the winter, and some
time during the intervening months we should both contribute toward
the necessary supply. I reached Chicago in November, 1885, but finding
it difficult to obtain satisfactory employment, I went to Minneapolis,
where I spent the winter in a drug store as a clerk. Meantime, my
friend had promptly obtained his portion and placed it in the storage
in Delaware, from which place it was shipped to me later in Chicago. I
remained in Minneapolis until May, 1886, when I returned to Chicago. My
own life I had insured meantime for $20,000, which, at a later date,
I intended to realize upon. I had prior to this time made arrangements
to furnish my portion of the material. After reaching Chicago, certain
sudden changes in my plans called me hastily to New York City, and I
decided to take a part of the material there and leave the balance in
a Chicago warehouse. This necessitated the repacking of the same, and
to accomplish this I went to a hotel (May, 1886), where I registered
under an assumed name, and occupied a room and had the package, which
had been shipped from Detroit, taken there, and carefully removing the
carpet from one portion of the room I divided the material into two
packages. In doing this the floor became discolored.

Later, one of these packages was placed in the Fidelity Storage
Warehouse in Chicago, and the other I took with me to New York and
placed it in a safe place. Upon my trip from Chicago to New York I
read two accounts of the detection of crime connected with this class
of work, and for the first time I realized how well organized and well
prepared the leading insurance companies were to detect and punish
this kind of fraud, and this, together with a letter I received upon
reaching my destination, and the sudden death of my friend, caused all
to be abandoned.

Soon after leaving New York I came to Philadelphia, where I sought
employment in some drug store where I could hope to become either a
partner or an owner. Not finding such an opportunity at once I took
a situation as a keeper in the Norristown Asylum. This was my first
experience with insane persons, and so terrible was it that for
years afterwards, even now sometimes, I see their faces in my sleep.
Fortunately within a few days after entering the Asylum I received word
that I could obtain different employment in a drug store on Columbia
avenue, which I at once accepted. About July 1st, one afternoon, a
child entered the store and exclaimed, “I want a doctor! The medicine
we got here this morning has killed my brother (or sister).” I could
remember of no sale that morning corresponding to the one she hastily
described, but I made sure that a physician was at once sent to the
house, and having done this I hastily wrote a note to my employer,
stating the nature of the trouble, and left the city immediately for
Chicago, and it was not until nine years later that I knew the result
of the case.

Later, when it became necessary to disprove the alarming statements
that were made relative to various persons having been killed at 701
Sixty-third street, I placed in the proper authorities’ hands a full
collection of documentary evidence, consisting of railroad and storage
warehouse receipts, letters, references and dates sufficient to show
the truthfulness of my statements.

Upon reaching Chicago I found I could obtain no employment as a
druggist until I had passed an examination at Springfield, Ill., and
when I went there for that purpose I gave my name as H. H. Holmes, and
under this name I have since done most of my business. Later, in July,
1886, I went to 701 Sixty-third street, Chicago, where I found a small
store owned by a physician, who, owing to ill-health, wished to sell
badly. A little later I bought it, paying for it for the most part with
money secured by mortgaging the stock and fixtures, agreeing to repay
this loan at the rate of $100 per month. My trade was good, and for
the first time in my life I was established in a business that was
satisfactory to me.

But very soon my landlord, seeing that I was prospering well, made me
aware that my rent would be increased, and to protect myself I was
forced to purchase at a great expense the vacant property opposite the
location I then occupied, and to erect a building thereon. Here my real
troubles commenced. The expense incurred was wholly beyond the earning
capacity of my business, and for the next few years I was obliged to
plunge deeply in debt in every direction; and, worse than this, when
these debts became due, if unable to meet them to resort to all means
of procuring a stay or evading them altogether. At last there came
a day when Thomas Fallon, a constable, together with a lawyer named
Sanforth, both of Chicago, came to my store to attach the same to
satisfy the claim of some impatient creditor. And during the appraisal
of the goods they came and asked me the contents of two small barrels.

I gave them some misleading answer, and bringing out other goods to
attract their attention, they were passed for the time being. They
were the two packages I had arranged more than a year before at a
certain hotel, and which had been removed from the storehouses in
Chicago and New York, first to my former store, and later to the new
one.

As soon as possible after this attachment took place, I resolved to
permanently dispose of both these packages, and to do so, I opened the
smaller of them and commenced its destruction by burning in a large
furnace, then in the basement. The experience was so unpleasant, owing
to the terrible odor produced, that I did not think it safe to destroy
more of it in the same way, and therefore buried the remainder of that
package, as well as the fragments that were partially burned, in the
places where they have lately been found.

The other package was removed, unopened, from the building, and so
disposed of that it is hardly probable it will ever be found, and I do
not feel called upon to bring it forth, as it would only serve to add
more newspaper notoriety to the case.

If, however, my life is ever jeopardized, or my other statements
discredited owing to want of additional proof in this matter, I shall
at once cause it to be produced, and my so doing will result in showing
that the portions therein contained are parts of the two bodies already
found, and more important still that the package thus brought to light
has necessarily occupied its present location for nearly seven years.

This will be corroborated by documentary evidence, freight, express
and warehouse receipts, letters, etc., already in the hands of the
authorities, together with evidence from workmen, if still alive and to
be found.

Early in 1888, needing some extra carpenters, there came to me, in
response to an advertisement, a tall, thin, muscular man, whom, at the
time, I took to be a farmer from the Western plains.

[Illustration: BENJAMIN F. PITEZEL.]

He assured me, however, that he was a carpenter, able to do as much and
as good work as anyone else, that his name was Benjamin F. Pitezel,
that he had a large family, was badly in need of work for their support
and begged me to give him a trial. This I did, but soon found him to be
a dreamer.

Coming to him at his work I would find him with a set of figures and
perhaps a diagram illustrative of their use, or busy making a model
of some complicated contrivance. This proceeded so far that for my
own protection I had to cause him to work by contract instead of by
the day, although I found him fully as improvident of his own time as
he had been of mine. Little by little I grew to like his quiet ways,
and to depend upon him to take charge of the work at times when I was
obliged to be absent, and one day I said to him, “Ben, with all your
mechanical ingenuity you should have been a rich man before now. How
is it?” His answer was that heretofore the world had not seemed to be
inclined to be kind to him. This seemed so aptly to describe my own
case, that I talked with him further from time to time, and a summary
of what I learned was as follows:—

He, like myself, had been a country-bred boy, knowing few pleasures,
but, unfortunately, receiving few school advantages. At a comparatively
early age he had married and commenced life as a farmer in Illinois
or Indiana. Later he had moved to Kansas, and, later still, had been
forced to leave that State owing to some legal trouble with a bank
there, to which he had given a worthless mortgage to secure a loan in
money. After leaving Kansas he had wandered through the Western States,
principally in the gold regions, and finally had settled in Chicago
with his family, which, while he traveled, had remained in Kansas. Very
soon after reaching Chicago he had commenced working for me, and from
that time until September 2, 1894, when he died, he was continually in
my employ, working as a carpenter and builder, and as a real estate
dealer and as a wholesale lumber merchant, buying and shipping lumber
from the South and West to Chicago and St. Louis, where I also sold the
same products.

I think it was in 1889 that I was one day waited upon by two gentlemen
who wished to sell me a gas machine, by using which I could be forever
independent of the regular city gas company. So great were the
inducements held out that I later met them at their office in La Salle
street, and before leaving them had bought one of the machines, which a
few days later was arranged in the basement of my building, and I had
notified the city company that thereafter I should cease to be one of
their patrons. For two days the new machine performed wonders, and I
recommended it to many of my customers and friends. The third evening
when I was very busy my store was suddenly enveloped in darkness. I
was obliged to turn away my customers and close for the want of light,
and from then until morning I wrestled with my gas machine; and when
Pitezel came to his day’s work he found me still perspiring, and, I
fear, swearing over it.

The machine was to him as a new toy to a child, although he soon
assured me that as a gas producer it was an absolute failure. That
afternoon I instructed him to temporarily connect it with the city
gas to provide light for the evening, and next day I would go to
the company and make a new application to again become a permanent
customer. As he finished making the connection he remarked that he
thought that it would be a good permanent arrangement without going to
the gas company. His quiet remark resulted in my having him, next day,
lead the gas from the city main to the machine underground in such a
way that it would not be known without a close inspection, and this
I did, not to defraud the city, but “to get even” with the company
who had defrauded me. A few evenings thereafter the president of this
company called upon me, and, after quietly studying my new light for a
time, spoke to me of it.

I then told him that I had bought his machine for the purpose of trying
a new gas that for years I had been experimenting with. Several other
visits followed, and although I was apparently averse to disposing of
my new discovery, I finally did so, taking in return first a contract
so skillfully worded that there could later be no claims brought
against me, and, second, a check for a large sum of money. Had matters
stopped here as I had at first intended, all would have been well, but
I neglected disconnecting from the city supply from day to day, until
finally an inspector, more energetic than his fellow-workers, became
aware of it, and this resulted in my very willingly choosing to pay a
five hundred dollar gas bill in preference to being openly written up
and perhaps prosecuted.

There have occurred other deals of a somewhat similar nature, and
generally inspired by the same motive, but this one suffices as an
example of those that occurred later. Sometime previous to this I
had had occasion to employ an attorney to transact some business in
which certain papers had to be signed in my New Hampshire name, and
to do this work I employed one I did not know in order that my real
name should not be confounded with the name of Holmes, under which I
had been known and had done all my work since commencing business in
Chicago.

About a year after consulting this attorney, I was called into court
as a witness on some trivial case, and while giving my testimony under
the name of Holmes, I saw him sitting in the court room apparently
much mystified. Instead of denouncing me to the court, as he might
easily have done, he spoke to me alone, and, later, feeling he had done
me a most kind favor I gave to him the greater part of my legal work;
but though he attended to this conscientiously for me as an attorney,
he at no time encouraged me to acts that were wrong, nor was he a party
to them, and the late newspaper comments reflecting upon his integrity
are most unjust and uncalled for.

Aside from this one incident I know of no time during the nine years
prior to my arrest that my two names conflicted the one with the other,
or caused me trouble or annoyance.

In 1890 I added a jewelry store to my business, and placed Julius
L. Connor in charge of that and my drug business, his wife, Julia
Connor, assisting him as cashier for a time, who, after the sale of
the store, lived in the building and supported herself and child by
taking boarders. That she is a woman of quick temper and perhaps not
always of a good disposition may be true, but that any of her friends
and relatives will believe her to be an immoral woman, or one who
would be a party to a criminal act, I do not think. She lived for her
child, and her one fear was that she should lose her, and as soon as
the daughter is of sufficient age to protect herself, I feel that her
whereabouts will be made known. I last saw her about January 1, 1892,
when a settlement of her rent was made. At this time she had announced
not only to me, but to her neighbors and friends, that she was going
away.

At this interview she told me that, while she had given her destination
as Iowa, she was going elsewhere to avoid the chance of her daughter
being taken from her, giving the Iowa destination to mislead her
husband. I corresponded with her upon business matters later, and the
so-called secreted letters lately found could only have been obtained
from my Chicago letter files, in which hundreds of my business letters
were stored away in alphabetical order.

In 1890 I opened an office on Dearborn street, Chicago, and organized
“The Warner Glass-Bending Co.,” the principal value of which consisted
in certain not very clearly-defined ideas I possessed upon the subject
of bending glass for mechanical purposes. This was a stock company, in
which I had interested, among others, Osmer W. Fay, a most reputable
and honest man (a retired minister), of whom I will speak later in this
history. Suffice it to say here that, when I found that he had invested
the principal part of his savings in my company, knowing that it would
not be a successful business venture to others, save myself, I returned
to him his investment with interest. At this time Pitezel was in the
same office with me, selling an invention he had lately patented, known
as “Pitezel’s Automatic Coal Bin.” I later established him in an office
by himself, where he opened a patent exchange similar to the one he was
conducting in Philadelphia at the time of his death.

At about this time, Patrick Quinlan, a whole-souled Irishman, had left
his farm in Michigan to come to the city to work during the winter
months, and commenced his service with me. He soon became almost
indispensable, owing to his careful management and supervision of
help and general faithfulness, and for several years he worked for
me continually, though during that time he did no illegal act nor
committed any wrong so far as I know.

Early in 1891 I became interested in one of the most seductive and
misleading inventions that has ever been placed before the American
public; a device known as the “A B C Copier,” which had been brought to
this country from Europe by a prominent official of the World’s Fair.

He had been swindled in its purchase, and, knowing this, was very
willing to dispose of one-half interest in the invention to me for
$9,000 worth of “securities.” A company was immediately formed, and by
using his name freely as the president of same, we were able to make
over $50,000 worth of contracts for future delivery before our offices
had been open sixty days, numbering among our customers many large
insurance companies and prominent wholesale houses.

However, I was glad to sell my interests, clearing about $22,000 in
cash upon the entire deal. It was at this time, while employing quite
a large office force, that Mr. J. L. Connor asked me to give his
sister Gertrude some work to do. Instead of doing so at once I told
him I would aid him in furnishing her with the means to take a short
course in a business college, and if later she proved proficient, I
would give her employment. Shortly after her commencing to attend
this business college, she received an offer of marriage from a young
clerk in Chicago. She spoke to us of it, and asked us to learn, if
we could, of the antecedents of the young man and of his prospects.
Our investigation resulted in learning that he had a wife living in
Chicago. Gertrude was inclined to disbelieve this statement, and not
expressing herself as being willing to break the engagement, Mr. Connor
thought best to send her to her home in Iowa. A statement from the
physician who attended her at the time of her death, long after this,
speaks for itself, effectually disproving one of the most persistent
and disagreeable charges that have been brought against me. I have had
many young ladies in my employ, most of whom are still living in and
about Chicago, whose parents and friends know only too well that far
from being their seducer I have done much to materially help them in
their narrow lives, owing to the enormous competitions in Chicago for
positions.

At about this time I sent Pitezel South upon an extended lumber
purchasing trip, and upon his return to Chicago he encountered some
severe domestic troubles, the full details of which he did not tell me
until long afterwards. But at the time they resulted in a neighborhood
quarrel and some arrests, and thereafter he grew more morose, and drank
more freely than he had done heretofore, but managed to do so during my
absence or after working hours, as he knew me to be wholly intolerant
of drunkenness in my employees.

It was about January 1, 1893, when I first met Minnie R. Williams at
the intelligence office of Mr. William Campbell on Dearborn street,
Chicago, whom she had engaged to provide her with a position as
stenographer.

[Illustration: EMELINE CIGRAND.]

I found her to be a bright, intelligent woman, an interesting
conversationalist and one who I could see had seen much of the world.
When she had been working in my office for a few weeks, knowing that
she had a history, I asked her one stormy winter afternoon to tell
it to me. After considerable hesitation she did so, in nearly the
following words:—

“My earliest remembrance is of a poor home in the South. My father
was a drunkard and my poor mother was not strong. One terrible day
my father was brought to us dead, and very soon after this mother’s
strength seemed to leave her utterly, and she soon followed him,
leaving me, a tiny child, together with a still younger sister and
a baby brother, to the tender mercies of the world. An aunt in
Mississippi took my sister to live with her, and another relative cared
for brother, and an uncle, a physician, adopted me.

“During the short time he lived he was a loving and tender father to
me, and at his death willed to me all of his possessions. A guardian
was appointed to care for me, but I was not again happy until years
later, when Mr. Massie was appointed to take his place, and since then
I have looked upon him and his wife as my parents.

“When I was 17 years old I was sent to Boston to finish my education
at the Conservatory of Music. At first, after leaving my warm Southern
home, I nearly died from homesickness, and you will not wonder that
having met at some place of entertainment in Boston a young gentleman,
and having found that he was an honest clerk, occupying a position
where he could hope for advancement, I allowed him to address me, and
later became engaged to him.

“Soon after the engagement he introduced me to a gentleman who is
prominently known throughout the New England States. He is much older
than myself.

“From the first time I met him he seemed to exert a powerful influence
over me. I loved his wife, and my visits to her made a pleasant break
in the tedium of my school work, but as soon as he came home, or I
was in his company, I was ill at ease, my mind being filled with an
indefinable presentiment of evil. I avoided meeting him alone upon
all occasions when it was possible for me to do so, but he would
often insist upon accompanying me to my home, and this, owing to their
continued courtesies to me, I could not well refuse. All too soon there
came a day when I could no longer look into the eyes of either my lover
or of those of my betrayer, and for more than a year thereafter I was
wholly under the influence of my seducer; so much so, that any and all
good resolutions I would make during his absence would vanish upon
meeting him again, and my life became one of mental torture to me, for
by nature I was a pure-minded girl.

“Our meetings for the most part took place at a hotel near his place of
business, a portion of which was available for meetings of this kind,
so long as the parties were known to the manager.

“During the year I broke my engagement with my lover, and by so doing
apparently deserved his reproaches for heartlessness, although if he
could have known it my motive was of an entirely different nature. As
though my burden had not at this time been sufficiently heavy for me to
bear, about the end of this year I became aware that another and still
more terrible calamity was in store for me.

“For days I sat in my room until it seemed I should go mad, and fearing
lest I should utterly lose my reason I decided to kill myself, but no
one realizes how dear life is until, thinking it worthless, they have
tried to destroy it.

“I could not do it, and there was nothing left for me to do but to go
quietly away in a strange place, under a different name, and bear my
shame.

“I went to New York, engaged board under the name of Adele Covell, in a
quiet portion of the city.

“Physically, I had never been strong, and now followed days and weeks
of serious illness until, to save my reason, the life of my unborn
child was sacrificed. As soon as I was able I returned to my Texas
home, accounting as best I could for my terribly haggard appearance.

“Later, feeling that there was left little that I could do, and being
wholly reckless of my future, I prepared for the stage, and for three
years I was almost continually before the public. Becoming somewhat
ambitious I organized a company, and for a time traveled through the
New England towns and small cities under the name of Geraldine Wande.

“This venture cost me between five and ten thousand dollars, and in
1891 I went to Denver, Colorado, as a member of a theatrical company
then playing a prominent engagement. There I staid until the burning of
the theatre, which caused my engagement to end, and not being able to
find another suitable opening, I decided to prepare myself for office
work.

“Unfortunately, while in Denver, I attracted the attention of a young
man engaged to be married to a lady whom I knew and liked, and rather
than to cause them trouble I decided to go elsewhere, though against
the wishes of the young man, who, if I had allowed it, would have
married me. At about this time my brother, whom I had never seen much
of, was killed, or rather died, as the result of a railroad accident
at Leadville, Colorado, leaving sister Nannie, who is now teaching in
Nudlothean, Texas, and to me, about $400 each, payable about one year
after his death.

“I went to Leadville to attend his funeral, and later came here to
Chicago, where, until I obtained my position with you, I have been at
times really in need of money, as owing to my unfortunate theatrical
venture all my ready money has been used, and I now have left only one
piece of good real estate in Fort Worth, Texas, valued at $6,000 but
encumbered for $1,700.

“A piece of land adjoining my property, of which Mr. Massey has
recently written me, can be sold by him for $2,500, besides paying a
heavy mortgage standing against it.

“I have also one small, unimproved lot near Dallas, Texas, worth about
$200.”

During the spring of 1893 I was, if possible, more busy than ever
before.

Among other work, preparing my building to rent to a prospective
tenant, who would use the entire five stories and forty rooms, at a
good rental, if I could get it completed in time for World’s Fair
purposes.

This left me with little time to attend to my office duties, which
gradually Miss Williams took more and more into her own hands, showing
a remarkable aptitude for the work. During the first weeks she boarded
at a distance, but later, from about the 1st of March until the 15th
of May, 1893, she occupied rooms in the same building and adjoining my
offices.

Here occasionally meals were served from the restaurant near at hand,
and if any bones have really been found in the stove there I think it
will later be learned, by microscopical examination, that they are the
remnants of such meals. Certain it is that no human being was ever
cremated there during my occupancy of the room, my own experience years
ago being quite sufficient to show me the danger of such proceedings on
account of the awful odor, if I had no other motive to deter me from
such a course.

About the first of April I dictated quite a number of urgent letters
to parties who were owing me, requesting them to make immediate
settlement of their accounts, as I was much in need of the money at
this time. Some days later Minnie brought me a draft for about $2,500
and asked me to use it until she should need it, explaining that this
was the proceeds of the Texas sale she had previously spoken to me
about. I could make good use of the money at that time, but declined
to take it until I had explained to her, at some length, more of my
business affairs than she had before known. And, finally, I caused to
be transferred to her, by warranty deed, a house and lot at Wilmette,
Ill., valued at about $7,500, in order that she should be well
protected against loss in case of my death.

This money was returned to her about May 10, 1893, from money obtained
for this purpose from Isaac R. Hitt & Co., Chicago, who paid it to
Miss Williams personally. At about this time she expressed a wish that
I should aid her in converting her remaining Southern property into
either cash or improved Northern property. This was hard to do, and I
finally advised her to execute a worthless deed (by having some one
other than herself sign same) to a fictitious person and offer the
property for sale at a very low cash figure, and years later, if she
chose to do so, to demand an additional sum in exchange for the good
deed.

This was done, forging the name upon the deed so made, which deeds
are still in existence. When matters had progressed thus far in
our various transactions, Miss Williams was taken seriously ill for
several days at the house where we were stopping at the time. She
suffered from the same form of acute mania that she had been troubled
with in New York years before. She was under restraint at this hotel
a few days about May 22d, but owing to careful nursing and good
medical attendance, she soon became so much better that she could plan
intelligently with me what steps were best to be taken for her safety.

It was decided that she should go to the Presbyterian Hospital, near
the Clybourne avenue car limits in Chicago, to stay until I could
determine if she were in further danger. She entered this institution
about May 23, 1893, as a private patient, and her ailment being such
that it was prudent for her to pass for a married woman, she was
enrolled upon the records there as Mrs. Williams.

The greatest drawback to her improvement here was the fact that she
knew she was in an asylum with other insane persons, and she soon
begged me to take her to some private apartments where she could
receive special attention. To accomplish this, I hired a house at 1220
Wrightwood avenue, and early in June accompanied Miss Williams there,
and during my absences she was in care of a young woman hired for this
purpose.

Here she rapidly improved, and during the following months exhibited
only once any maniacal symptoms, when, owing to some trivial
disagreement with her attendants, she so frightened her that she
left at once. At this time Miss Williams first spoke of inviting her
sister to spend the summer and fall months with us, and in response
to a letter Nannie came from Texas. I met her at the train and
found her to be a remarkably quiet and gentle woman—apparently not
very strong—certainly of a most kindly disposition. The sisters had
never lived together for any considerable length of time, and they
anticipated much pleasure in the society of each other. Minnie had
asked that it should appear to her sister that we were married, and
also that nothing should be said of her recent illness, which she now,
day by day, seemed to be overcoming.

[Illustration: NANNIE WILLIAMS.]

I cannot imagine a happier, quieter life than they passed there during
the month of June and the first part of July, 1893. I was extremely
busy in the city, but was at the house whenever I could conveniently
arrange it. Minnie had so far recovered as to attend to several
business matters and to aid me in my writing. Among other things,
arrangements were made to convert her own and her sister’s interests in
her brother’s estate into money, and to commence certain preliminary
proceedings that would ultimately cause her betrayer in Boston to pay
her a considerable sum, and, to make this easier, it was thought wise
that she obtain some evidence in support of her claim by wiring to him
for a small amount of money.

This was done, and to this telegram he promptly responded by sending
to her, by wire, $100. At the time it came to the Western Union
office she was not feeling well enough to go there for it, and I
executed the proper papers, signing her name in her stead, and next
day, to more fully protect her attorney in the matter, she executed a
supplementary receipt in her own name. Later in the year it was her
intention to return to Boston and go further with the matter. Late
in June, upon returning one day from my business in the city, I met
and was introduced by Miss Williams to a Mr. Edward Hatch, whom she
had formerly known during her theatrical life (he was at that time
attending the Columbian Exposition at Chicago). A few evenings later he
accompanied Minnie, Nannie and myself to the Exposition.

Early in July it became necessary for Miss Williams to leave the city
for a day, and before doing so she asked that I come home early and not
allow Nannie to remain alone during the evening and night. I went with
Miss Williams to the cars, and later accompanied her sister as far as
the business portion of the city, upon her way to spend the day at the
Exposition. That evening I returned to the house at about 6 o’clock,
and soon after Nannie also returned. During the previous weeks of Miss
Williams’ illness, I had been unable to be away from the house at
night, and wishing to go out that evening I asked Nannie if she would
mind staying in the rooms alone, explaining to her that there were two
other families in the house. She replied that she would have no fear,
and that being so tired from her day’s exertions among the crowds, she
felt sure that she would sleep all night.

This being arranged I went away, agreeing to call on my way to the
city next morning, and asking her if her sister returned before I did
to refrain from telling her I had staid elsewhere, giving to Nannie as
my reason for this that her sister would feel annoyed at my leaving
her alone. Next morning I reached the house at about 8.30 o’clock, and
shortly before Miss Williams returned.

Being in haste to reach the city I welcomed her, and almost immediately
bade them both good-bye, and taking my bicycle from the hall started
down the street. At this time both sisters were standing within the
doorway of the house.

Quite early in the afternoon, upon returning, I was surprised to notice
the shades at the windows closely drawn. Entering the hall and passing
from thence into the parlor, I was greeted by Miss Williams screaming
to me:—

“Is that you? My God! I thought you would never come. Nannie is dead!”

She was seated upon the floor holding her sister’s head in her arms,
rocking back and forth and moaning, much as a mother would over a
child that was dying or dead. I did not believe it at first—I made
no effort to do so—looking upon it as one of the jokes which, when
well, she so liked to indulge in, but a moment later I noticed the
disordered condition of the room, and as my eyes became accustomed to
the darkness, Miss Williams’ terrified face, which good actress though
she was, I knew she could not so successfully counterfeit.

[Illustration: Showing room where Nannie Williams was killed.]

I was alarmed and instantly was upon my knees beside them, to find
to my horror that Nannie had probably been dead for hours. By this
time Miss Williams seemed almost as lifeless as her sister, and half
leading, half carrying her, I took her to her room and did all I could
to restore her, but it was hours before she was in a condition that
would allow of her giving me an intelligent account of what had taken
place during my absence.

In the meantime I had carried Nannie to my own room, where she lay,
looking more like one asleep than dead. The only mark of violence
discernible being a slight discoloration upon one of her temples, from
which a small quantity of blood had apparently flowed.

Later, in answer to my questions, I gained the following knowledge:—

Upon my leaving the house in the morning, Miss Williams had seized her
sister by the arm and ran romping with her through the rooms to the
dining room, and without waiting to remove her hat had sat down at the
table and drank some coffee, talking to Nannie the while. She had
asked her what time I had reached the house the preceding evening, to
which question Nannie answered that she did not know, as I was at home
when she had herself returned, thus giving the impression that I had
been there during the night.

After finishing her lunch, Minnie had passed into her own room, had
exchanged her street costume for a house dress, and then, in going to
the front portion of the house, had passed through my room, and in
doing so had noticed that it had not been occupied during the night.

With this one thought in her disordered mind she had rushed into the
adjoining room where her sister then sat, and in a voice, which only
the very few who have been intimately acquainted with Miss Williams can
appreciate and understand the tragedy of, had said:

“You devil! You have stolen my husband from me.”

At the same time she had struck her sister with a small foot-stool,
causing her to fall to the floor, where, with hardly a struggle, she
had ceased to breathe.

Miss Williams had, at the first moment, run to the lower portion of the
house for assistance, but the people being absent for the time being,
she had returned, and at first thinking her sister had only fainted,
had resorted to all the means of which she knew to resuscitate her. She
soon found her efforts useless, and from then until I had arrived, had
remained in the position in which I found her.

After this came the terrible question of what steps should be taken. It
is useless for me to speak now of what should have been done. What was
finally decided upon is as follows:—

I first wished to call in the authorities and explain fully, and
also have it known that at the moment the act was committed Miss
Williams was not accountable for what she had done. She would not
listen to this. Next, I suggested that it should appear that death had
resulted from an accidental fall, but to any and all propositions that
necessitated a court investigation she would hear nothing, begging me
to go to Englewood, and with Patrick Quinlan’s aid take the body to
some quiet place and bury it.

Finding that the discussion was worrying her into another serious
condition, I gave her some medicine, and as soon as I could do so
safely, I left her, intending to go to Englewood, and did go as far as
Twenty-second street.

There were some reasons why this last mentioned course would have been
advantageous, as it was not generally known that I was living with Miss
Williams as her husband; and those who did know of it did not know my
identity, and to have this matter known, as well as the death of her
sister under such distressing circumstances, would have occasioned an
amount of notoriety that would have been ruinous to me.

But as I rode towards Englewood, I could see good reasons for not using
Quinlan in the matter. His loyalty to me was such that I should not
have feared his making it public, but I did not think I had a right to
burden him with so terrible a secret.

In fact, it was by never asking him to do any act that he could be held
accountable for or that would jeopardize his property that the loyal
feeling had been caused to exist.

Leaving the cars at Twenty-second street, I returned to the house,
finding Miss Williams still asleep; later we clothed her sister in a
light dress she had liked to wear, and taking the large trunk she had
brought with her from Texas, I placed her therein as carefully as I
could.

No funeral rites were observed; no prayers were said, for I felt that
from either of us such would have been a mockery. I also took her
small, well-worn Bible (this without Miss Williams’ knowledge) and
later consigned it with her to her last resting place, which was all I
felt at liberty to do. I then went to a livery stable and obtained a
covered conveyance, stopping upon my return at the car barns near by,
where there were many workmen waiting to take the cars. I engaged one
of them to accompany me to the house and help me place the trunk in the
carriage.

I then drove to the lake-side, and waited until night had fallen,
making it appear to parties noticing me, if any, that I was awaiting
the return of some belated boating party. Afterwards, I procured a boat
at some distance, and took it near my waiting place, and still later,
with considerable difficulty, I placed the trunk in it, and proceeded
about one mile from the shore.

There in the darkness, passed beyond the sight of this world, into the
ever grasping depths of Lake Michigan, all that was mortal of this
beautiful Christian girl; but from my sight it has never passed, nor
has there been a day, an hour, since that awful night that I would not
have given my life if by doing so that of Nannie Williams could have
been returned.

Upon coming towards the shore I thought it wise to deposit the trunk
upon another and more remote portion of the beach. I did this, and,
after returning the boat, drove away, and later came back for the trunk.

Upon reaching the house I found Miss Williams more at ease. She had
occupied her mind during my absence by collecting and placing in
Nannie’s room all of her belongings, even those of her own things that
her sister had used. She was inclined to talk to me and plan for the
future, but for this I had no heart, and little by little, as often as
I could do so without exciting her again, I told her that our life
together was ended.

I did not do this with anger, and agreed to guard her secret so long as
it did not place my own life in danger. The housekeeping was broken up,
and very shortly thereafter Mr. Hatch took her to Milwaukee, where she
remained in a private institution until later in the summer. The cause
that had produced her unsound mental condition had been removed.

Hatch did not know of her sister’s death for months afterward, and then
against my advice was it told to him, he supposing she had returned to
her Texas friends. All of the things that Minnie had separated from
her own were packed and taken to Englewood and were placed in a room
in the second story, where they were kept for several weeks until I
could obtain time to dispose of them, when I assorted some of them
and gave them to Pitezel, telling him that they were some that Miss
Williams had sent to his children. All the others were burned in the
large stove in the third-story office, and this I plainly told the
Philadelphia authorities in the fall of 1894, and all the subsequent
excitement occurred as a direct result of a visit made there by their
representative in verification of my statement.

Another trunk, containing pictures and books, was not taken from the
express company owing to a mistake in charges, though Miss Williams
supposed this had also been disposed of, and this was the one later
returned to Fort Worth. Before going to Milwaukee, Miss Williams was in
such a nervous condition that only one important step was taken, which
was that her people in the South should suppose that she, together with
her husband and sister, had gone to Europe or elsewhere, this being
made easier inasmuch as some talk had been had earlier of a short fall
trip abroad if money matters would allow it.

At about this time there occurred a very severe lake storm, July 18,
1893, doing much damage and it was hoped they would conclude that
all had perished during this storm. Certain it is that Miss Williams
wrote no more letters to her friends and did not appear publicly in
Chicago, if possible to avoid it, in order to carry out this idea, but
fortunately for my (our) present safety there are, as I shall show
later, several instances when she did appear and in my company.

While she was in Milwaukee, I did what I could to arrange our business
affairs so that neither she nor myself should suffer loss, it being
impossible for her to make new transfers of a later date or to go
to Texas without abandoning the idea of deceiving her friends there
regarding her existence.

I was determined, too, as soon as possible, to sever all my relations
with her, deeming it unsafe to continue them, and from time to time I
encouraged Hatch in his attentions to her, which he was more willing to
bestow than she to accept.

Just here it would not be amiss to return to an exciting incident,
which lasted some days, in connection with one of my insurance cases.

It happened shortly after the death of my medical friend and former
college chum.

The sad announcement of his death—for to me it was a sad one—set me
to thinking. I began to seriously consider the chances of my carrying
out the plans which my old friend and I had spent so many anxious days
and nights in perfecting. The prospect was a good one, and I desired,
and finally determined, to carry at least one of them to a conclusion,
single-handed and alone. No person was to be in my confidence, and I
set to work getting my scheme in order.

Some time previous to this I had, while in Minneapolis, insured my life
for $20,000 in favor of my wife. Failure in this one instance, where
my friend was concerned, made a desperate man of me. I determined to
succeed at any cost. The prospective profits in the work were most
alluring. The chance for detection, of course, must be guarded against,
and the contingencies of all other serious accidents which might arise,
and make exposure certain, had to be taken into consideration.

Upon figuring up what the gross proceeds had been in similar
operations, the result showed me that, with the very modest outlay
of $3,950, they aggregated $68,700. This work one can easily see was
profitable beyond any legitimate work that might be entered into.

The assessments having been paid up on my recent $20,000 policy to and
including the month of June, 1887, I thought that it was time to bring
this case to a close.

In order to realize the $20,000 before September 1st, I accordingly
went to Chicago and had a long conversation with an acquaintance of a
year before, who was an assistant at —— Medical College, over certain
details of my proposed work.

However, I found it more difficult to obtain a body that would prove a
substitute for my own. I had a “cow-lick” which could not be imitated
by artificial means, and it was absolutely necessary to get a subject
so favored by nature, and I had a most gloomy wait, lasting about two
weeks, going to the dead room of the college each morning to inspect
the “arrivals,” which had come in during the preceding twenty-four
hours.

Finally, my patience was rewarded, about May 20th, when I was informed
that a man had been killed accidentally falling from a freight car. The
body in due time arrived, and after making a most minute and critical
examination of it, I determined that it was just what I required for my
purpose. Satisfactory arrangements having been made with the hospital
for my possession of the subject, I started out to ascertain the best
way to have it moved.

It was here that a chain of most extraordinary and gruesomely
interesting circumstances began. All the precautions that the mind can
conceive and the body execute had to be brought into execution. No
chance for detection now could be entertained. No loophole for surprise
and discomfiture was to be left uncovered; and I had to do all that was
vitally necessary to this end alone.

Knowing that I had a most trustworthy friend in a certain expressman, I
at once repaired to his abode. My surprise and discomfiture were great.
He was dead. He had died some time previously. All hope for assistance
in that quarter, naturally, had to be given up.

From inquiries I made of the janitor of the college, I learned that
a certain expressman in the neighborhood could be employed for the
purpose I desired, as he had on former occasions been hired for
“outside work” by some of the men in the institution.

I called at this man’s address, and after seeing him I stated my
business. “How much will you charge me for taking a body from ——
College to Polk Street Station?” I asked.

“Five dollars,” was the reply this man gave me.

This price being satisfactory to me, we started for the place where
I had ordered a trunk to be made according to a special design. This
trunk was one of more than ordinary large size, and externally it
resembled one of those iron-bound, burglar-proof arrangements jewelry
salesmen call sample cases. Inside, the construction was of a very
elaborate nature.

The greater portion of it being occupied by a large zinc box of
sufficient dimensions to allow a man to occupy it by doubling his
joints, where doubling was necessary. This was fitted by a lid of wood
to deaden any sound that might be caused through the possible rattling
of the ice, which was to surround the inner box. The entire trunk was
made water-proof, but who knows how it could travel on a railroad train
without undergoing severe usage, and possible demolition?

The trunk was taken to the college, the body placed in it with the aid
of the expressman, who did not seem to relish that sort of work. He
seemed to weaken at times, and once or twice I noticed him grow pale.
After the trunk was carefully packed and ready for conveyance to the
station, we found that it was almost too early to remove it.

After standing about for some time, the Jehu grew more courageous,
inasmuch as he gazed through a few inverted liquor glasses when their
contents were amber-lined. He said:—

“I can’t do this job for $5.”

“Why not?” I asked, very much surprised.

“Because, if I make a hearse of my wagon and personally act as
combination driver, undertaker and pall-bearer, I must have $35. If I
don’t get that sum, I shall inform the police that all is not right.”

Of course I expostulated with the man, and resorting, as often before,
to my sugar-and-fly policy, I placated him, gave him $5 in cash and
promised the other $30 when we reached the station.

This was all right, for he said if I did not pay he would have me
arrested instantly.

In due course of time the trunk was carted to the Illinois Central
Station, and, after having it placed on the platform, the driver turned
to me and demanded the $30 forthwith.

This was the chance I had been waiting for.

“I shall not give you another cent,” said I.

“Oh, yes, you will!”

“Besides, I have a mind to demand the return of the $5 from you for
attempting to extort money from me.”

“You would stand a great chance of getting it, too. Now, give me $30 or
to the ‘cops’ I go.”

“You may go, but first listen to me and answer my questions. Did you
not, in the presence of the janitor and myself, help place the corpse
in the trunk? Did you not haul it here? Have you not assisted me in all
this work?”

“Yes, I have.”

“That man was murdered. Speak a word about it to any one, and I will
have you arrested as an accessory to his murder.”

The driver was evidently very much frightened, as his eyes widened and
bulged, and his hair began to assume a perpendicular position.

“The body must go in the lake,” I continued, “and let the waves bury it
forever from human sight. I hope you understand me.”

Then he told me that he did not want any more money, and as I knew his
address, he would always be at my service at any future time.

Having purchased my ticket for the timber lands of Michigan, I checked
my trunk, and it began its adventurous trip North.

Everything had gone along as well as I could have wished until our
train was nearing Grand Rapids. My attention was attracted to a group
of trainmen standing about a trunk in the baggage section which
occupied the forward part of the smoker in which I was traveling.

I got up and looked closer, and was almost stricken dumb with horror
when I saw that it was my trunk, and that the men were talking as
though they suspected something wrong with it.

I immediately changed my plans about going North directly, and was in
a feverish state of excitement when we reached Grand Rapids. As soon
as the trunk was deposited in the baggage room, I went in as though to
claim it. As I did so, I noticed a stranger looking at me and on the
trunk in a manner which made me feel quite uncomfortable. I pretended
not to notice him, and thereby got a better chance to study him. I
soon concluded that he was a Secret Service man, and that I had been
“spotted.”

Realizing that some decisive and telling action was necessary at this
time, I stepped to the telegraph office and wired myself at the hotel,
as follows:—

“Holmes. Look after my trunk, which left Chicago this morning.

(Signed) HARVEY.”

The initial “H” was the same as that on my trunk, and when I got to
the hotel, I showed the clerk the telegram, which he held for me,
and engaged communicating rooms for Harvey and myself, with a bath
attachment. I sent a porter for the trunk, and after seeing it in the
rooms, I then learned the cause which attracted the attention of the
trainmen to it. My suspicions had been confirmed, for an awful odor
emanated from the trunk, and I then knew that the man had been dead
longer than the college attendants stated, and, also, that I had been
imposed upon.

Fearing that such a contingency might arise, I formulated a plan while
on the smoking car of transferring the body from the Chicago trunk to
another, which I should purchase.

After locking my room carefully, I started out to look for a suitable
trunk, but stopped long enough to tell the clerk that my baggage would
be on hand in the course of an hour or so. It was growing toward
evening, and I had but little time to spare.

After looking about for a short while, I soon got a used trunk that
suited my purpose quite well. I ordered the lock to be changed on it,
and while this was being done I made several trips to a couple of
plumbing shops and bought a considerable quantity of old lead pipe. I
had this cut up into suitable lengths, and made into packages. I made
several trips to the trunk store, and each time I placed a package of
the heavy material in the new trunk, after which I had it sent to my
room at the hotel. This was done to make it appear that it was filled
with my effects.

The day had been warm, and the night also promised to be sultry. No
time was to be lost in getting things in order and to guard against
surprises.

During my several trips to the trunk store I noticed the man I first
saw at the Grand Rapids Station was looking after me, and I was placed
on my guard.

As I said, the night was going to be warm; I knew that it would be but
a short time until all the floor I occupied would be permeated with the
odor from my friend in the trunk.

I went out again and secured a water-proof hunting bag, and carried a
considerable amount of ice to the room, which I placed in the bath tub.

I then took the lead pipe from my new trunk and laid it beside the
first one in the adjoining room.

While doing this work the atmosphere became so stifling that I had to
hoist the window. This window opened out on the roof of a porch, and by
the time that was done it had grown quite dark.

I decided to defer further work until after I had eaten.

As I entered the dining room I could see the eye of that mysterious
stranger watching me in the reflection of the mirror from the bar.

I was somewhat troubled at this, and I did not enjoy my dinner very
well.

After my repast, I lounged out to the office and then went to my room.

I went to the bath room first, drained the water from the ice, and
prepared a place for the dead man to lie in. When this was done to my
satisfaction, I went to the trunk my supposed friend was to occupy and
opened it. The usual balancing and cording precautions which I had
taken were all right, but the face that met my gaze was drawn, colored
and hideous, yet it somewhat resembled the outlines of my own when I
first secured the body.

The sight was disgusting, yet when I looked upon it, and realized that
at least $20,000 would come to me after a little further trouble, I
gazed on it as a very good investment which was about to mature.

The monetary possibilities of this work set me thinking, and yet I knew
I had in this instance to work rapidly. I loosed the cords, raised the
body, and carried it to the bath tub, where I sought to freeze it hard
enough for another day’s transportation.

There, in the twinkling light of a solitary gas jet, lay all that was
mortal of—I knew not whom.

I claimed him as my own, and as I studied the now rigid form, strange
questions arose and floated across my mind.

Who was he? What had he been? Was he a father, a lover, or brother? Was
his absence from home noted? Was he cared for? Or, was he, like myself,
a wayward son? Such thoughts troubled me but little before, and yet, as
he lay there on his frozen bed, I, seemingly fascinated by the awful
solemnity of death, did not seem able to tear myself away.

The gas flickered, a door slowly opened, and before I knew what had
transpired, I was given the opportunity of looking straight into the
eyes of the mysterious stranger—the Secret Service man—over the
glittering barrel of a death-dealing weapon.

Not a word was spoken, but our eyes instinctively turned towards the
object in the bath tub.

“Consider yourself under arrest, sir,” said the nocturnal intruder.

“I am at your service,” I replied, knowing that it would be useless to
try conclusions with that man in such a small room.

While he was getting some iron bracelets out of his pocket, I mentally
determined to have him in the street, glad enough to get away from me
and my rooms.

I was ready for him when he walked out into the next room; he keeping
his pistol leveled at me with one hand, and trying to get his handcuffs
out with the other.

By the merry little twinkle in his eye I read his character as though
it lay printed before me on an open page. It was part of my game, and
I intended to play my hand as well as I knew how. He seemed to hold a
good one, too, but as I had the greatest bower—money—I knew that it was
worth the while to play it as best I could.

Desperate, indeed, did my situation become when I saw that he had a
companion awaiting us in the room, and a glance at the window explained
how their entrance had been effected.

As we got into the chamber the man with the pistol, who was much larger
than his associate, looked at me and winked.

“John, go to the station house, and wait until I send for you; but do
not say anything until you get word,” my captor said to the other.

No sooner had the man called “John” gotten out on the porch roof than
the other turned to me with:——

“This is a nice sort of a business, and I have entrapped you neatly in
it. It looks very much like the rope for you.”

“My dear sir, you will let me explain, I hope. This man was my brother.
He has just died of a malignant and very contagious disease. He had
been sent to a medical college for dissection, and when I learned of
it, I determined to save the body from the demonstrator’s knife. Come,
look again, and see if you cannot discern a family resemblance?”

As I was talking, the man drew back, and, at my invitation, turned an
ashen color. His hands trembled, and as they dropped listlessly the
pistol fell to the floor and exploded with a loud report.

Critical as the moment was, it was time for me to act, and I made a
successful effort to get the weapon, and as I did so, I ordered him to
go to the window and save his life if it was of any value to him.

He lost no time, and as his form disappeared over the ledge of the
porch I fired a shot into the air.

This of course brought the landlord and several guests to my door,
which I opened in response to repeated knockings.

I was very much excited, apparently, and called out, “There, see, there
he goes.” The crowd of half-dressed men and women rushed to the window
and gave me a chance to close the bathroom door. Heavens, but I did
breathe more easily! The escape was a narrow one, but I succeeded in
allaying suspicion by saying that the man had attempted burglary, and
as I shot he jumped from the roof.

The figure of a running man was discernible in the darkness when they
were at the window, which had the effect of verifying my explanations.

After they had gone the landlord offered me the use of another room,
which I, of course, declined.

Now my real hard work was to begin. The man was apparently satisfied
that I had told the truth, yet he had a suspicious look which I did not
like.

As early as possible in the morning, I packed my own trunk with the
lead pipe, and to leave that of the fictitious Harvey, while I took my
dead friend from his frigid resting place, and repacked him in the new
trunk. Upon going to breakfast, I explained that I must go to a place
which was somewhat distant, on the early train; but would leave my
friend’s trunk in the room, as he was expected at any time.

Therefore I had the porter take the newly-packed trunk to the station,
where he bought me a ticket and had the trunk checked to my pretended
destination.

I timed myself to get to the station just as the train was going out,
and as the coast seemed clear, I boarded the smoker.

I knew if the detective missed me, he would go at once to the hotel,
and if he found my trunk there he would naturally wait around for an
hour or so, thus giving me a pretty good start of him.

When about thirty miles from Grand Rapids I got off to get a paper.
The newsstand was next to the Western Union Telegraph office, and as I
looked over the operator’s shoulder, he received the following message:—

“Look out for man and black trunk. Left here this A. M. Arrest and hold
him.”

I may have looked queerly, but I inquired in a natural way, how far it
was to ——, my destination.

“Forty-eight miles,” was the reply of the operator; and without raising
his eyes, he called a boy to take the message to the station policeman.

But he was too late. The train started, I swung on, and immediately
got hold of the baggage porter. I showed him my ticket, and asked him
to put my trunk off at the next station, which was but eight miles
distant. This he did, and it was a dismal place, indeed. When I got
off the train it was raining. It had been raining hard, evidently, all
night. The mud was hub deep on the lumber wagons, and the prospect of
stopping there was not a pleasant one.

I learned, upon making inquiries, that I could get to a little town
fifteen miles distant, which connected with another railroad, and to
do this I would have to drive. I determined to go, however, as the
detective, no doubt, would haunt every station between Grand Rapids and
my destination until he got some trace of me, when he would learn that
I had gotten away from him.

It was with difficulty that I secured a conveyance, which I did in
the evening, as I did not want a driver, because I knew the trunk had
become troublesome again on account of the odor of my dead companion.

Having carefully attached the trunk to the rear of a back-number
buck-board, a dismal trip was begun. As I said, I had considerable
difficulty in getting the rig, and as it was I had to leave a deposit
large enough to buy several of that particular kind.

After seven hours of the worst riding it has been my misfortune to
endure, I reached a small town from which a combination freight and
passenger train was about to leave. It was one of those accommodating
trains. I “saw” the conductor, who agreed to hold the train for half an
hour.

This delay was for the purpose of giving me a chance to freshen my
subject up a little. Ice was not procurable, and as there was no drug
store in the town, I went down to the grocery store, got the proprietor
up and bought several bottles of ammonia, which, when combined with
one or two other simple things, made a solution that rendered my quiet
friend quite acceptable so far as one’s olfactories were concerned.

This operation of attempted preserving was done in the privacy of
the baggage car, and all went well until we got about three miles
from town. Through the negligence of some section hands a rail was
left without the fish-plate being bolted on, and the whole train was
ditched.

The engineer was killed, and the conductor was badly injured, as also
were two or three passengers. I escaped through a window, and after
helping some of the injured who needed surgical attendance, I went to
the baggage car. It was a wreck. So was most of the baggage. My trunk
and one or two others were intact, and while awaiting the arrival of
the relief train and wrecking crew, my thoughts again got to wandering.

There was a score of us. Some were injured, one dead, and all of us
anxious. The morning was just breaking; the rain had ceased to fall;
and, as I looked away down the railroad, I could just distinguish a
cloud of steam and smoke, through the fog, which showed the approach of
a train.

Something seemed to tell me that I was about to be confronted with
some disagreeable occurrence, and, in anticipation of this premonition
becoming a fact, I quickly hauled my trunk to a little shed used by
workmen, and impatiently awaited the wrecker. Therefore, I was not
astonished when I saw that the first man to alight was my friend,
the detective of Grand Rapids. He also saw me, but seemed to pay very
little attention to me, as he knew I could not escape, for by this time
it was broad daylight, and no trains coming or going.

Finally he accosted me, and we entered into “an agreement” to have my
trunk taken to the junction of the road, which was done to my entire
satisfaction, and, I have every reason to think, to his also. Just what
that little agreement cost me I am not at liberty to say, for that
officer still lives.

It was a dark and dreary day when I got into the wild wildernesses of
Northern Michigan’s lumber tracts. I was soon established in a hut, and
it shortly became known that I was a lumber operator of considerable
means, and was regarded with much consideration by the hardy hewers of
trees and strippers of bark. The men were all honest, it seemed. So one
day I went out in the evergreen forest and failed to return.

A week or so later what was purported to be my dead body was found
pinioned to the earth by a fallen tree. Money and papers were found
in the clothes on the body which established my identity beyond the
question of a doubt.

Thus, by case No. 5, after a great deal of trouble and thrilling
escapes from the law’s officers, I added the neat little sum of $20,000
to my bank account by September 1st, as I had anticipated.

When I had finished with the trunk I presented it to a friend, but at
the time did not tell to what use it had been put.

Some years afterwards I met him at his home, and told him all about it.
Then he and his wife declared that often they had found it open—no one
having touched it—when both declared it had been closed and locked the
day previous.

One day in July, 1893, I met an old friend upon the street. I had not
seen him for nearly two years, and I noticed at once that he had not
prospered since I last saw him. I asked him to accompany me to lunch,
and upon inquiry, he told me that his only means of support at that
time consisted of what he could earn as a solicitor for the Fidelity
Insurance Company of Philadelphia, and he asked me if I could not carry
some insurance in his company, to which I replied that I was carrying
all I felt able to pay for.

I gave him, however, the names of several parties whom he was to visit,
some of whom he later insured. I invited him to come to the office and
accompany me to lunch whenever he was in that part of the city, and
later, at his solicitation, I abandoned the company in which I had been
insured, and allowed him to place a policy for me with his company
for two reasons: _first_, that he might be benefited by the premiums
I paid; _second_, upon his showing me the advantages they offered.
Considerably later, having exhausted all my resources so far as finding
him customers was concerned, we were standing within the Chamber
of Commerce Building, Chicago, when Pitezel, just returning from a
successful Southern lumber trip, came in; and not having seen my friend
for quite awhile, they talked for some time together, and finally he
asked Pitezel if he could not carry some insurance. Pitezel answered
that he did not care to do so then.

Up to that time Pitezel’s insurance record was as follows: Upon all
long trips, his instructions were to take out temporary insurance at
the time he bought his transportation ticket or mileage, making the
policies in favor of his family, and at my expense. He had occasionally
carried yearly accident insurance, and upon one occasion some regular
life insurance in the Washington Life Co. Soon after this meeting with
Pitezel, my friend asked me to try and induce him to take some in his
company. Pitezel was about to receive several hundred dollars, the
greater part of which I knew would, in a very few days, be wasted,
and considering the great help it would be to my friend during the
coming winter, I decided to induce Pitezel to insure, telling my friend
beforehand my reasons for doing so, and instructing him to place no
more insurance than Pitezel would pay cash for at the time.

Later, a policy was issued for $10,000, for which a cash premium was
paid. This policy differed very materially from one I should have
chosen, if any fraud had been anticipated at the time. After this I do
not think insurance was again mentioned between Pitezel and myself for
six months.

[Illustration: MRS. PITEZEL.]

My first intimate acquaintance with Mrs. Pitezel and her children began
in the fall of 1893, although I had often seen them prior to that,
especially the children, whom I liked and looked upon as remarkably
bright when they had come to me from time to time upon errands. At this
time Pitezel had gone to Indiana on some lumber business there among
the farmers, and to aid him in establishing a credit, had taken with
him some worthless checks to carelessly exhibit among his money, thus
having it appear that he was a man of considerable means and worthy of
credit in his business.

While under the influence of liquor he either lost or tried to use one
of these checks or drafts, resulting in his being arrested.

This necessitated my making three special trips to Terre Haute, where
his arrest occurred, and during this time a part of his family being
sick, it was also necessary for me to visit them often as well. In
November, 1893, I met Miss Williams by appointment at a hotel, where I
made some preliminary arrangements that resulted later, after several
more visits, in her accepting collateral security for all her real
estate holdings in Texas, they being valueless to her for the reasons
previously given.

The last of these visits took place in Detroit in December, 1893
(nearly six months after the death of her sister), since which time
I have not personally seen her. At the time of this visit a final
settlement was reached. I told her, after having reached such a
settlement, that I was very shortly to be married. This created so
severe a scene that she not only threatened my life, but that of my
prospective wife as well. These threats ceased only when I told her I
should, upon my return to Chicago, give to the authorities the details
of the tragedy that had occurred there in July.

The next day she seemed as pleasant as usual, and planned her own
future course, which consisted in opening a massage establishment in a
London hotel, Hatch to help her in conducting the enterprise.

About the middle of February I sent to her, from Fort Worth, $1,750,
which, when deducted from my previous indebtedness due her, left me
still considerably in her debt. This was secured by the Wilmette
property, the title to which it was agreed she should hold until all
was paid. I left Miss Williams in Detroit, apparently well pleased with
her business arrangements, and at least passably satisfied that the
many other matters between us had been settled.

Early in January, 1894, I sent Pitezel to Fort Worth, instructing
him to sell the real estate there which previously had been conveyed
to Benton T. Lyman, whom Pitezel was to personate, it not being safe
for him to act in his own name on account of his recent trouble in
Terre Haute, Ind. He did not succeed in readily finding a purchaser,
and later in the same month, having been married in the meantime, I
joined him there to aid him in his work. I had given Pitezel careful
instructions as to his conduct while away, but I found upon reaching
Fort Worth that he had not been governed by them. My first duty was
to remove him from the boarding place he had chosen to one in a more
respectable quarter, but the mischief had already been accomplished,
and he was known by that time throughout the town as a liberal,
free and easy drinking man, who, it was understood, had considerable
property.

A party owning property adjoining that which we wished to sell had need
of a portion of ours, but would not buy, depending upon renting it
at a very small figure, as he had been doing heretofore. In order to
force him to buy I directed Pitezel to withdraw his offer, and remain
wholly away from him, quietly survey our lot, and proceed to excavate a
portion of it, having it understood that he was about to erect a large
building, covering all of the ground. Our neighbor was fully as crafty
as ourselves, and not until we had caused elaborate drawings to be
prepared by an architect, and some foundation laid encroaching upon the
portion he needed, did he conclude to buy, and at a figure about twice
what it was worth. With a portion of this money, the old encumbrance of
$1,700, that had existed against the property, was paid. Then having
had some tempting offers from prospective tenants, a larger loan was
made and the building later nearly completed.

While the building was in progress there came to us a forlorn looking
object, begging for work, and out of charity we gave him some light
labor to do. He grew stronger as soon as he procured food. Later he
confided to me that he had recently been released from serving a
ten-year term in a Southern prison.

I had at first called him “Mascot,” which name clung to him thereafter,
though I think his real name was Caldwell.

Early in March Pitezel came to me one morning to say that the day
before while drunk he had been induced by some of the disreputable
associates he had formed at his former boarding place to marry a woman
of doubtful character, an adventuress some said, and that as soon as
he became sober had come to me. He threatened to shoot both the woman
and himself. I had him watched carefully for a few days, until I had
reasoned him out of this idea. A little later I sent him home to his
family in Chicago. He had in the meantime lived with this woman, and
they were known as Mr. and Mrs. Lyman.

Upon reaching Chicago he did some work there, and in St. Louis where
he afterwards went. He finally met me about May 1st, at Denver, where
I had gone to prepare papers with which to secure a loan of $16,000
upon this Fort Worth building. I needing his signature to the papers,
inasmuch as the property was (and still is) in his fictitious name,
Lyman, upon meeting him in Denver, I wished to proceed at once to
the Court House to have the necessary papers acknowledged, but he
told me he had, while away, devised a plan whereby he could not only
gain $10,000, but at the same time forever do away with any fear of
prosecution or trouble in consequence of his marriage in Fort Worth—a
matter which had perpetually worried him.

I had times without number listened to his visionary schemes for
obtaining vast wealth upon a day’s notice, usually in connection with
some new patent, until such matters had become a joke between us.

So I said to him, “Well, Col. Sellers, what is it now?” He replied
that it was one of my own inventions, and if I would go to the hotel
with him, he would tell me of it. He seemed so much in earnest that I,
although in a great hurry, went with him.

His plan was this (I should say here that several years before, while
making a Southern lumber trip with him, he had taken up some of the
tedious hours of the journey in telling me of his wild gold-mining
experiences, and, in reciprocation, I had told him something of my
medical experience, including a part of the frustrated insurance
scheme): He wished to hire an office in one of the highest buildings
in Denver, having it understood that he was to use it as a wholesale
book agent’s office; that he should buy an awning to protect the room
from the sun, and while placing it in position upon the outside of the
window it should appear that he had fallen into the area way below,
wishing me to have shipped to him from Chicago, or elsewhere, a body
which he could use to aid in the fraud.

I do not think we talked of the matter to exceed fifteen minutes. He
was accustomed to accept my judgment upon matters of importance without
much hesitancy. I proceeded to give him several reasons why his plan
was not a feasible one, principal among which was the fact that at the
present time insurance companies are too well equipped and too much
upon the alert not to detect this kind of fraud, nearly all of them
having a corps of private detectives. Among other reasons I gave him
was one he very well knew, that theretofore, when I had thought it wise
to indulge in business transactions that were not strictly legitimate,
I had always insisted upon two conditions being carried out:—

_First_, that such proceedings should be outside the regular beaten
track followed by ordinary disreputable schemers, for in consequence
thereof those engaged in them were closely watched. _Second_, that all
such acts should stop short of anything that was punishable by either a
large fine or imprisonment.

There was another reason I had for not entering into this fraud at
that time, if no others had existed, I did not tell him of it, namely,
that during the previous years he had been worth to me much more than
$10,000 per year, and I could not afford to have him place himself in
such a position as would necessarily be the case if this were carried
out where I could not further use him. His idea in regard to this had
been to go to South America and later have his family join him there.

Having dismissed the matter, I went on with my real estate work, and as
soon as the papers were executed, returned to Fort Worth, Pitezel going
back to St. Louis to attend to some work there.

Upon reaching Fort Worth, I found that some to whom money was owing
had filed mechanics’ and furnishers’ liens against the property, and
this so alarmed the party who was to have made the large loan that he
withdrew from his agreement, and this resulted in a large number of the
other creditors becoming alarmed, some two or three proposing to cause
my arrest for having obtained the material for the building under false
pretenses of payment.

I had never been arrested, and I had the same horror of it that I would
of being shot. Especially terrible seemed the methods prevalent in the
South, where I had seen, from time to time, convicts chained together,
with hardly any clothing, and if I could believe the reports our
“Mascot” had given us, with less food and more inhuman treatment than
was accorded the slaves of that region forty years ago.

I therefore raised what money I could, paying all of it, save $200, to
the poorer laborers who had worked for me, and immediately left the
city, intending to secure the loan in St. Louis or Chicago.

From time to time, during my residence in Fort Worth, I had bought from
different parties six good horses, paying for them, it is true, for
the most part with notes guaranteed by Lyman as the owner of the real
estate there. I make no claim that these notes have been paid, but I
do claim that the transactions were lawful, that no mortgage or other
encumbrance existed against any of the horses, but they were, however,
subject to attachment by any parties whom I was owing, and to avoid
this I instructed “Mascot” to take them to Denison, Texas, and ship
them from there to St. Louis.

Upon reaching Denison he shipped five of the horses, but failed to
accompany them himself, or to send $300 worth of other material,
including much of my clothing, one carriage, a watch I had loaned him,
and $80 cash given him to pay the freight upon the stock; nor did I
hear from him again until July, 1895, when, as an inmate of an Arkansas
prison, he was willing in exchange for his liberty to tell of matters
of which he could not have known even had they existed.

After reaching St. Louis, I immediately tried to negotiate the loan I
had failed to secure in the South. Pitezel was feeling much annoyed at
my failure there, for he had expected a rather more liberal payment
therefrom than he had received during the few preceding months, owing
to the fact that while he had been in Texas it had been necessary,
in order to appear that he was the owner there, that he should carry
the bank account in his name, and before he had known it, during his
drunkenness, he had been robbed little by little of nearly $1,000.
Therefore, when I told him that we should be short of money for some
time longer, he again advocated the insurance scheme, saying that it
could be carried out in the Southern Lumber Co.

He felt sure, and finally, against my better judgment, I told him
we would take a trip to the region he had spoken of, partly upon
lumber business and partly to look over the ground in connection with
the insurance work. He was as pleased as a child, and all his morose
feelings vanished at once. We first went down the Mississippi River to
visit a lumber tract that had been offered to me the year before upon
very easy terms, hoping to buy it, using some Chicago securities as
payment, and by selling at once to raise the money we so much needed
at Fort Worth. We found upon reaching our destination that this tract
had been sold. We then went East to the Tombigbee River in search of
another similar tract, and here Pitezel wished to have it appear that
while he was traveling upon horseback through the extensive swamps
he had met his death accidentally, or had been killed for what money
he was supposed to have carried. He was known in that locality under
his own name, having transacted a number of legitimate lumber deals
there the year before. After wandering with Pitezel for several days
through those swamps, being eaten by fleas and terrified by snakes, he
walking ahead, as he said, to drive them away, but, as I later found,
to escape their anger by passing out of their reach, leaving them for
me to contend with, I flatly refused to go farther with the scheme,
but told him instead that I would interest some of the planters in a
canning factory.

With the machinery which I was able to furnish from Chicago I felt
sure that, before sixty days, we could realize $15,000 in cash and
lumber therefrom. He would not hear to it, however, and opposed me
more strongly than I had ever known him to do previously. He told me
that at that time he was liable to arrest in Kansas, in Terre Haute,
Ind., and Fort Worth, Texas, and that since his domestic trouble some
years before in Chicago he had cared less than ever, and he had been
determined ever since he left Texas, where he had drank more heavily
than before (which also worried him), that he would leave the country,
and now, if he could not do so, he would, upon my refusal to go on, go
through with his scheme alone. His words were, “I can furnish a body,
and, the way I feel now, I do not care how quickly I do it.” Seeing how
downhearted he was I complained no more, but talked with him of other
things, and finally told him that I would next day go to Mobile, and if
I could procure a suitable body there, would return with it. If not,
I should go direct from Mobile to St. Louis, where he must join me,
and, after doing some work there, we would go to Chicago and organize a
company among certain lumber firms we knew, and return South later and
make what money we could by exchanging this stock and machinery for the
canning factory into lumber and other products. I therefore left him,
as he supposed, to go to Mobile. This I did not do, and have never been
in that city in my life. I returned at once to St. Louis and, after a
little delay, wrote to Pitezel that it had been impossible to obtain
what I needed South and for him to join me at once. Nearly two weeks’
delay occurred before he came. His wife had been receiving letters from
him that he was sick during this time.

Later, after his death, I learned that upon receiving my letter that
I could not do any more in the insurance matter he had made an effort
to take his life at the hotel of Henry Rodgers, at Perkinsville,
Ala., and for days, as a result of this ineffectual attempt, he was
sick there, as he was later at the Gilmer House, at Columbus, Miss. As
soon as I reached St. Louis I found that all efforts towards securing
a loan there were useless, and being nearly out of money, owing to
my having paid out so much before leaving Fort Worth, I had to look
sharply about for some immediate source of revenue. I finally bought
and took possession of a drug store in that city, paying for it with
notes secured by a chattel mortgage and some other securities. Owing
to the negligence of the firm of whom I bought, this mortgage was not
recorded, and upon Pitezel reaching the city I sold to him all my
right, title and interest (this being the wording of the bill of sale)
in the store, which he immediately mortgaged for a considerable sum.

For this transaction I was arrested and confined in the St. Louis
jail for several days until, although I perhaps could, by a legal
fight, have shown that I had a right to sell the store under these
circumstances, it became clear to me that it was safer to settle the
matter, which was done.

My arrest occurred on a Saturday evening, and from then until Monday
morning I was confined in the receiving portion of the jail, below the
level of the street, and these few hours of my first imprisonment were
far more trying to me than my subsequent experiences of like nature
have been.

Here, all through that long, hot Sunday, all classes of prisoners, both
male and female, were brought together, and allowed to indulge in the
most filthy and obscene talk.

And at the open windows, opening directly upon the sidewalk, all day
and far into the night, a crowd was standing, more than half of whom
were tiny children, eagerly drinking in each word that was said. The
next morning I had handcuffs placed upon my wrists, and was taken
into Court and later into the jail proper, where better discipline
was enforced. Here I was consigned to a very small iron cage (I know
no better name for it), one of about three hundred, ranged tier above
tier around a large area in which all, or nearly all, the prisoners
are allowed to exercise together during certain hours of the day. Here
were to be seen many noted criminals, who were soon pointed out to
me as “This is so and so, who is to be hung upon such a date.” (About
thirty murderers, one of whom was the prison barber, who if you paid
him ten cents, would shave you with a very dull razor, while if you
paid him more he would use a sharp one; and as I sat in his chair, I
could not help thinking that which ever one he used was plenty sharp
enough for him to commit one more murder with, if he chose, and I
therefore directed him to use his sharpest razor at a price above his
own figure, very much as I would have held out a tempting piece of meat
to a vicious dog which I feared was about to bite me.)

Or, “That is the notorious forger or confidence man,” as the case might
be. Among others was one, a noted train robber then serving an eighteen
years’ sentence, and who a short time previously had become more
notorious by a nearly successful attempt at escape from the prison. He
is a young man, whom, to meet upon the street, one would suppose to be
a bright mechanic or a farmer. He is very intelligent, and I took much
interest in talking with him. He told me of the case that had resulted
in his arrest; of his subsequent trial, and remarked that Blank & Blank
in St. Louis were his attorneys; to which I replied that but for the
fact of the senior members of the firm being absent on a vacation they
would have been my attorneys as well, I having first sent for them, and
finding this to be the case had employed Judge Harvey instead.

He afterwards asked me if, upon leaving the prison, I could not
contribute $300, which, together with some other money he could obtain,
would give him his liberty by bribing one of the keepers, making a
claim that he had successfully done so before. My answer was, that at
the present time I had less ready money than had been the case for
years previously, owing to my having invested so much in the South. I
told him if I could arrange to aid him later I would do so, but I made
no engagement with him to furnish me with an attorney for the insurance
work as has been claimed, for I was already acquainted with the firm.

The balance of my short stay in this prison was taken up by my reading
“Les Misérables,” a peculiarly interesting volume to me under the
circumstances, and I judge it was to all prisoners who cared for
reading, as was evidenced by the condition of the book itself,
which I obtained from the prison library. I was also entertained by
watching a huge negro being prepared to meet his death by hanging,
by having alternately administered to him spiritual consolation from
his confessors, large quantities of cigars to smoke, food to eat and
liquor or beer to drink. A so-called death watch was kept also, but
not so stringent but that he was allowed to go alone to the front of
the compartments occupied by his favorite companions, and talk at some
length with them.

Next morning, upon looking from my latticed window across into the
court yard, I saw him meet his death upon the gallows in the presence
of a large and morbidly curious crowd of people. If I had been in need
of any warning to deter me from almost immediately placing myself in a
similar position, I know of no stronger one that I could have received
than to witness this man’s death struggles, to see the crowd making
light of it, and almost before he was dead quarreling to possess small
portions of the rope which sent his soul hence, and, I think, of his
clothes. Gruesome relics they were, indeed.

Upon the day I was liberated from this place of confinement, I visited
first my own attorney and later Blank & Blank, in the same street, at
which time the following conversation took place. Entering the office,
and having explained who I was, I said:—

“I have called on you to perhaps make some arrangements that will aid
in securing the liberty of your client,” to which one of the firm to
whom I spoke, replied, “I guess you have made a mistake in the office;
I know nothing in regard to the matter.” I said, “I am sure I have made
no mistake in the office, and furthermore, have seen either you or your
brother talking to him at the prison. However, my visit to you was to
aid your client, and of no immediate value to me, and I have no desire
to force the recognition of your client upon you, and will therefore
bid you good day.” Upon my withdrawing to the door, he followed me, and
said, “Wait a moment; I will go down to the prison and see what my
client means; you come here again, shortly.”

I replied that I should be in Judge Harvey’s office, and upon his
return he could call there if he wished to talk further with me.
I would then accompany him to his office. He did call for me, and
upon reaching his private office was willing and ready to talk. Our
conversation resulted in my placing in his hands for collection nearly
$500 worth of good accounts, authorizing him to apply $300 of the
proceeds to the robber’s use. I also gave him my Chicago address, in
case he wished to write me.

As I was leaving his office he said, “My client wished me to ask you,
if he succeeds in gaining his liberty, if you will aid him in a certain
piece of bank work he wishes to do.” I replied that it was wholly out
of my line, and I should be of no more service to him in such work than
a dead man; moreover, my recent imprisonment had shown me the necessity
of being even more careful to avoid laying myself liable to arrest in
the future, but that I would furnish the chloroform and nitroglycerine
he needed upon my arrival in Chicago, and have it placed in a safe
place with a suit of clothes and other articles we had planned during
our interview, and possibly might aid him later in disposing of certain
bonds and stocks he expected to gain possession of; but that there
would be ample time to plan for that after he had gained his liberty,
for which I would watch the papers closely.

Upon this I left his office, and started for Chicago the same evening,
where I had previously sent Pitezel to commence arrangements among the
lumber men whom he knew for the formation of the stock company before
mentioned. I reached Chicago August 1, 1894, and upon calling upon my
attorney there and also my agent, both assured me that it was dangerous
for me to stay in Chicago, as there were then Fort Worth parties there
looking for me, and forming an alliance with some persons whom I was
owing to cause my arrest, and thereby force me to procure the money due
them.

My attorney instructed me to go elsewhere if I thought sufficient money
could be made to satisfy these debts and organize my company, and upon
my asking him where I should go, he told me that either New York or
New Jersey were favorable States in which to organize companies to do
business elsewhere. Having other business in New York I decided to go
there, though under a different name, lest the granting of a charter
to a company of which I was an officer should, by being published, be
noticed by the Fort Worth parties.

I suggested to Pitezel that he should finish some patents, one of
which I wished to use in this company, and it was later decided that
he should go with me to New York to act as one of the incorporators
and to work upon his patents in some small shop he was to hire for
the purpose. Before leaving Chicago he reminded me that his insurance
premium would be due before our return, and wished me to give him the
money to pay it before he went away, remarking that he still thought
I would be glad to fall back upon this plan of getting money after my
company had failed me. I told him that, owing to the stringency of our
money matters, I had allowed my own insurance to lapse and wished he
would do the same. He was not willing to do this, advancing, besides
the reason already given, that while it was safe for me to allow my
insurance to lapse, as I had other things with which to protect those
dependent upon me in case of my death, he had little or nothing. He
also knew that I had collected a considerable sum of money since
coming to Chicago, and could, if necessary, give him what was needed.
I finally settled the matter to his satisfaction in the following
manner: Upon the day his insurance expired I was to give him sufficient
money to take out a three months’ accident policy for $5,000; it was
supposed he at that time carried $1,000 of the same kind of insurance,
and I agreed to be personally responsible to his family to the extent
of $4,000 in case he died, this aggregating the sum of $10,000. He
was satisfied with this, it being agreed that at the end of three
months, when our money matters were in a more flourishing condition,
his regular insurance should be renewed. During our trip to New York,
in my talk with him, not having had much opportunity to plan and hold
genial conversation together since he left Fort Worth months before,
I noticed that he was not as pleasant as usual, was more inclined to
sit by himself and smoke and think and frown and worry. I spoke to him
of it, and asked him if he had encountered any new trouble at home, to
which he answered that he had not.

We reached New York about August 5th, I think. I went to the Astor
House and he secured a boarding place near Thirty-third street. I at
once commenced to look about for some small space in a shop where he
could carry on his work.

Up to this time, since I had sent Miss Williams the various sums
aggregating $1,500 from Texas, during the preceding winter, I had
received only two letters from her, both forwarded to me from New York
through a friend in Denver, who had acted as my agent in the matter.
About the time I left Fort Worth, I had written her asking that she
send me $600. I found this amount awaiting me at New York in Bank of
England notes, which I later converted into United States currency at
Drexel & Co., in Philadelphia and in New York.

For the first few days of my stay in New York, I was busy visiting
several large machinery stores and in doing some other work pertaining
to my company’s business of years before. Upon the morning of the 9th
of August, Pitezel reminded me that his insurance expired that day, and
requested that I aid him in placing his temporary insurance.

I had been waiting for him to make this announcement. He had a very
valuable, undeveloped patent, nearly finished, a machine for testing
eggs, which I wished to use at once. I therefore said to him, suppose
I pay you $500 cash for your share of the new patent (I by previous
contract already owned one-half of it), then you can use the money as
you choose, both for insurance and other matters. He answered that he
ought not to take less than a $1,000. I finally gave him $600 for it,
and upon his asking me which he should do, retain his old insurance
or take out the new, I at once advised him to retain the old, for two
reasons: _First_, it would help my old friend again. _Second_, if he
took the third insurance, long before the expiration of that time his
money would have been blown away, and I should feel obliged to give him
more.

He then said, “I will go and telegraph to the company in Chicago, and
see if they will keep my insurance in force until the money can reach
them.” I said, wire them the money instead. This was apparently a new
idea to him, for after understanding it he not only wired them what was
due, but also a small amount to St. Louis to his wife. I, as usual,
cautioned him to be careful of the rest of the money, and make it last
as long as he could. Besides this I had done all I could to cheer him
up, and get him out of the morbid condition he had been in, and he
voluntarily promised that for the following thirty days he would not
drink liquor.

He told me afterwards that so hard did he try to keep his promise after
I left him in New York that he went to the post-office there, and sent
by registered letter to B. F. Perry[1] in Philadelphia, nearly all the
money he had, so as to place himself beyond temptation for the first
hard days of his struggle. At this time I had come to Philadelphia
to meet my wife, to do some business with the Link Belt Engineering
Company, with some stationers and with the Pennsylvania Railroad, all
of whom were using a patent in which I was interested. Upon reaching
Philadelphia I found that this and other work would detain me some
time, and not knowing of Pitezel’s precaution already taken, and
fearing lest he should become drunk in New York, I wrote to him to come
here. This he did, and, deciding to make our headquarters here, I hired
some rooms for my wife and myself.

He immediately commenced to look about for a part of a shop in which
to do his work. My wife was taken seriously ill about this time, and
continued so during the remainder of our stay in Philadelphia. I was
not able to be away from the house more than a few hours at a time, and
therefore did not see as much of Pitezel as I otherwise should. About
the middle of August he told me he had hired an entire house at 1316
Callowhill street, it being but little more expensive than a shop. That
he had met another patent man who had promised to pay a part of the
rent, remarking at the same time that when I got ready to help him in
what he wished to do, he would buy out the other man’s business or move
elsewhere, and if I perfected my company and went South to unload it,
he, if he could make any money in his patent exchange, would have his
family come to Philadelphia for the winter, as under the name of Perry
he did not fear trouble.

I did not have anything to do with the leasing of the house, nor was I
in it to exceed four times prior to the day before his death.

Upon Saturday, September 1st, I called on him to execute some patent
papers to send to Washington, and at this time he certainly was doing
a good business. During the time I was there no less than twenty
customers called, some of them being agents he was supplying with
certain washing and cleaning compounds that he manufactured. He had
also surrounded himself with a great number of models of patents he
was trying to sell for other parties on commission. So busy was he,
that after waiting patiently for a long time, I told him I would go to
my house and would return next day to execute the work he wished to
do. Just before leaving he asked me to lend him $30 or $35, saying he
wished to use it to pay his rent that was then due and to place some
advertisements in the next day’s papers, explaining to me that all his
money was in two large bills, which he did not wish to change until
necessary, as, if once broken, he feared he would spend them faster.

I laughingly said to him, “Ben, you are sure they are not spent
already?” He answered, “Oh, no! I have them placed away safely
upstairs; I can go up and get them if you want me to;” and then started
as if to do so. I gave him the money, saying that I did not require him
to verify his statement.

That evening he came to my place of residence at about 8.30. I noticed
at once that he had been drinking, and spoke to him of it, though not
in anger, as it had always been my custom to wait until he became
sober before chiding him. He told me that he had received word that
one of his children was sick, and it might become necessary for him
to go home. I asked him which child it was, and also told him he had
better telegraph and instruct his wife to wire him if she thought it
was necessary for him to go. He then spoke of leaving his business, and
asked me what he should do about it if the man he was expecting to take
an interest with him did not come on at once. I told him I thought it
best for him to select the most trustworthy of his agents to leave in
the office for a few days, reminding him that I had to go to St. Louis
upon some legal business early in the week, and therefore could not aid
him. I then bade him good night, telling him I had to go to the market
near by before it should be closed. He said he would go with me. He
waited at the market while I made my purchases, and returned with me
almost without speaking. I then again said “good night.”

He said, “Can’t you come out again? I want to see you.” I told him
as my wife was not well, I could not very well be absent longer,
attributing his unusual request to his having been drinking; I also
reminded him that I was to see him early the next day. He said in
reply, “Then come out a moment now, and I will go home.” I did so, and
he said, “You will have to let me have some money in case I have to go
to St. Louis.” I said, “that will hardly be necessary; use what you
have, and if the child dies or other unforeseen expense arises, I shall
be in St. Louis during the week, and can then see to it.” He replied,
“Well, I will have to tell you; I have not got any money save what
you gave me to-day, and I have used part of that for liquor instead
of paying my rent with it.” I said, “Ben, this makes over $1,600 you
have wasted in debauchery and drink within the last seven months while
your family have needed it. I am done. I told you in Fort Worth if it
occurred again I should settle our business affairs, and thereafter
you would have to care for yourself. I don’t want to talk with you
to-night, but to-morrow I will go to your house, and I want to settle
up not only the patent work, as we had intended, but all our other
affairs, and in the future if I can spare any money it will be given
to your family instead of to you, but I will go to see them upon my
arrival in St. Louis, and will, if the child is dangerously sick, send
you money to go home with.”

He said they had no money then to live on. I said, “If I find this to
be so, I will give them some. It will not be the first time I have done
so, and far in excess of what would have come to them had you been
working elsewhere. For your own part, you will have to keep sober here
in Philadelphia in order to make a living, which I know you can do if
you try.” He was crying at the time. He then asked me if I would not
help him to carry out the insurance work, having it appear he had been
robbed there in the Callowhill street house. I replied, that inasmuch
as he was persisting in drinking, it would not be a month after it
was carried out before he told some one of it. He said, “You are in
earnest; you will not help me anymore; I can do nothing alone.”

I replied, “I am in earnest, and will talk it all over with you
to-morrow, and plan as best we can for the family,” and again bade him
good night, and as he reluctantly started away I asked him to promise
me not to drink again that evening, and to go at once to his home and
to bed.

He promised to do this after first going again to the telegraph office
to see if there were any messages for him. He then left me, and that
is the last time I ever saw him alive.

I wish to say, however, that while I thought it wise and for his
advantage for him to suppose he had got to care for himself in the
future, I had no intention of abandoning him, if for no other reason
than that he was too valuable a man, even with his failings taken into
consideration, for me to dispense with. I should have gone through
a form of settlement with him next day, and upon my return from St.
Louis, if I found him sober, have gone on as before.

The next morning I went to the Callowhill street house, reaching there
about 11 o’clock, entering with a key he had given me some weeks before
to use if I came there in his absence. I found no one in the front
portion of the house, and passed back into the kitchen; finding that
also deserted, I went to the stairway and called him by name; receiving
no answer, I went up the stairs so that I could look into the room
where he slept.

He was not there, and I was much worried, thinking that, instead of
coming home as he had promised, he had gone about the city and perhaps
had been arrested. Upon returning to the kitchen, however, I noticed
that there were evidences of a fire having recently been built in the
stove, and, therefore, did not think more of the matter, concluding
that he had gone to the post-office or telegraph office.

I then left the house, but before doing so I placed a chair in a narrow
passageway at the end of a counter, to denote to him, if he returned
before I did, that I had been there. I went to the Mercantile Library
and read the foreign papers for about an hour, went to a place on
Eleventh street where I had a box for my private mail, and then, buying
a Philadelphia Sunday paper, I returned to the Callowhill street house,
entering as before.

The chair was as I had left it. I sat down for a few minutes to read,
then went into the kitchen and rekindled the fire, so that he could
prepare us a light lunch as soon as he returned, while I was making up
the necessary papers.

The fire soon making the lower rooms uncomfortably warm, I went up
stairs and lay down upon his bed and resumed the reading of the
paper. While there I noticed an unusual odor and finally got up. Upon
going into the adjoining room I found perhaps two dozen small bottles
containing a certain cleaning fluid upon the mantel, some of which were
uncorked. This fluid contained some chloroform, ammonia and benzine
among other ingredients, all being of a volatile nature.

[Illustration: HOLMES BURNING PITEZEL’S CLOTHING IN CALLOWHILL STREET
HOUSE.]

I don’t know how long I stayed there, nor what time it was when I
finally thought it best to go home, and I then went down stairs to his
desk to write him a note. There among the paper I found a note written
in a cipher we sometimes used, which read, “Get letter in bottle in
cupboard,” or words to that effect. (This note being one that no one
could read without my aid, I carried it in the small watch pocket of my
pantaloons, until in Toronto, having a new suit of clothing made, from
which my tailor had omitted such a pocket, I placed the note in a tin
box of papers that later was taken by the authorities. The note is now,
or should be, in their hands.)

I went to the kitchen cupboard, which was the only one I had noticed in
the house, and there I found a whiskey flask, within which I could see
some paper.

To get at it I quickly broke the bottle, and upon opening the letter
I read, “I am going to kill myself, if I can do it. You will find me
up stairs. I am worth more dead than alive.” I did not wait to finish
the letter at that time, but went hurriedly up stairs. The only place
on the second floor I had not had occasion to visit that morning was a
small room under the stairway, and looking into it I found it empty.

I then ran up this stairway to the third story, a portion of the house
I had never before been in.

It consisted of two low, small rooms, each having one small window.
The door to one of these rooms was open. I instinctively turned to the
room that was closed. Thrusting open the door and stepping within, I
saw Pitezel lying upon the floor. I rushed to him, but before I had
remained longer than to remove a large towel that was wrapped around
his head, and not having time to find if he were alive, I was forced,
owing to the overpowering odor of chloroform, together with the shock
of coming upon him so suddenly and in such a condition, to leave the
room, falling upon my knees and crawling a portion of the way until I
finally reached the window in the adjoining room, which I opened, and
in a few minutes had recovered myself sufficiently to return to the
room where Pitezel lay, but again was forced to leave before I could
make a satisfactory examination.

This time I had opened the window in this room as well, and presently
was able to ascertain that he was dead. I then went to the hallway and
sat down upon the stairs. I do not know how long I sat there, nor what
I thought in the meantime. I had not yet wholly recovered from the
effects of the chloroform, and was dazed. This was not due to having
come suddenly upon a dead body, for my medical experience of years
before had rendered me accustomed to disagreeable sights and scenes—but
the man had been to me far more than an ordinary employee; one whom,
although most of our tastes were dissimilar, I had always liked and had
had fewer disagreements with than would likely have been the case had
he been my own brother. And to come upon him thus had unmanned me.

I know the thought never came to me while sitting there that it might
be dangerous for my own safety, the street door being then unlocked.
After a time I returned to the room and made a careful examination.

He lay upon his back, his lower limbs fully extended, one arm folded
upon his chest, the other thrown out at his side.

His head was slightly raised by means of a coarse colored blanket,
closely folded. He was fully dressed, except his coat and vest which
hung on a chair beside him. The pockets of his trousers were turned
inside out, and in the waistband was a letter within an envelope
addressed “C. A. P.”[2]

If asked to express an absolutely true opinion as to how long he had
been dead, I should say not more than six hours.

Upon the chair was a large gallon bottle laying upon its side, so
arranged that it would nearly empty itself, it being held in position
upon one side by a hammer and upon the other by a small block of wood;
from the bottle, and connected thereto by a perforated cork in which an
ordinary quill toothpick had been inserted, there trailed a long piece
of small rubber tubing, terminating at its free end in the towel I had
removed upon first entering the room. This tube was constricted midway
by a piece of cord tied about it, so that the flow of liquid would be
slow.

Owing to the time that had elapsed after his death all the chloroform
that could escape from the bottle, in the position in which it lay, had
passed through the tube, filling his mouth and, as I later learned from
the Coroner’s physician, his stomach as well; this one fact alone being
sufficient to prove to any scientific person, or physician at least,
that any one having a medical training would not, if obliged to use
chloroform for such a purpose, carry it to such an extent if he wished
it to appear later that the man died as the result of inhaling the
vaporous fumes of chloroform and benzine, that had exploded in a bottle
held in the victim’s hands.

The excess of the liquid had then run out upon the floor and on the
blanket underneath his head. The only other articles in the room
besides those already enumerated were some small pocket belongings, a
knife, memoranda book, match box, containing some of our patent stamps,
and perhaps twenty small coins; all these were placed on the chair
beside the bottle. Upon the window-sill was a small handful of tacks
with which he had fastened some newspapers upon the sash in lieu of a
curtain.

By this time, owing to the excoriating effect of the chloroform his
face had become somewhat discolored, and I went to the rooms below and
procured a wet towel, and after covering the face with it I started
down the stairs fully intending to call in some of the neighbors. Then
came the thought that, instead of filling the house with a crowd of
curious people, it would be better to go direct to the Coroner.

I know this thought was in my mind as I passed down the stairway, for
I distinctly remember wondering in what part of the city the Coroner’s
office was located, whether at the City Hall or elsewhere, and if it
would be open on Sunday.

Reaching the kitchen I picked up the letter which, in my haste, I had
let fall before going up stairs in search of him. The substance of the
letter, beside that already given, was that he had tried to take his
life in Mississippi during the previous June, and now with his drinking
habit growing so much stronger day by day, he could not hope to make a
living without my aid. He wished me to so arrange his body in one of
two ways that it would appear that his death had been either accidental
or that he had been attacked by burglars and killed, giving the details
of how I was to carry out either course:—

First, that his family should not at present know of his death;[3]
second, that the children should never know he had committed suicide
(this he also repeated in the letter left for his wife); that the
insurance money should be used to place the Fort Worth building in an
earning condition, and that I should exchange some Chicago property we
owned for some house in a city with good school advantages; that none
of the money should be so placed that relatives could borrow it away
from his wife. He spoke of our close connection for years, and that
he could depend upon my aiding him now and in the future, ending his
directions with the words:—

“Do enough with me so there won’t be any slip-up on the insurance; I
shan’t feel it.” The letter was poorly written, and it took me some
minutes to decipher it, and upon finishing it, I sat down for a time
and re-read parts of it. This gave me time to consider my own position,
and as soon as it came into my mind, but before I had decided to carry
out his instructions, I went into the front office and locked the
street door.

The thought that troubled me most at that time was, that under no
conditions, whether the insurance part was carried out or not, was I
the one to discover his dead body. I was here in Philadelphia under
an assumed name. A few years earlier I had stopped at some hotels and
met people under the name of Holmes. Some years before that I had done
business here under still another name, and at another time, earlier
yet, I had visited relatives here under my true name.

And now at this time, to be called as a witness before a Coroner’s
jury, would almost certainly cause me to be identified by some one;
and if under the name of Holmes, it was more than likely to be seen
in the papers by some Fort Worth people, and would probably result in
my arrest upon the charges there, and my arrest at this time I was
satisfied would mean death to my wife.

Again, I had an engagement in St. Louis for the following Thursday
morning, to fail to keep which would result in the loss of a
considerable sum of money, and also prove a source of great annoyance
to my attorney, who was personally responsible for my appearance there.
Besides this, Pitezel was dead; nothing I could do here would aid him,
while in St. Louis I could be of the utmost benefit to his family, by
forestalling the announcement of his death reaching them through the
newspapers, by seeing them personally, and also caring for the child
that was sick, if need be. This portion of the matter was settled in
my mind at once, then came the question whether I should do anything
to aid in the deception of the insurance matter or simply remove the
letter he had written to his wife, lest it contain matters that should
not be made public and go away. One of his plans I did not entertain
for a moment, the one involving striking him upon the head severely
enough to crush his skull. Had my own life depended upon it, I could
not have forced myself to strike his dead body even had I been sure
there was no suicide clause in his insurance policy. I should have
preferred to have told his family at once of his death, contrary to his
wishes, in preference to doing anything to mislead the authorities,
involving, as it necessarily must, some mutilation of the body.

I had never seen the policy, but from my friend the insurance agent’s
statement that it was similar to mine, I judged it contained such
a clause. Nor did I know whether or not the suicide clause was
inoperative in Pennsylvania as it is in many other States. (All these
things I most certainly should have found out previously if I had been
intending to immediately carry out the fraud.) After considerable
deliberation, I went to the room in the second story that he had
partially prepared, uncorked the small bottles I had previously found
there, and also found the pipe he had filled with tobacco, the top of
which was slightly burned as though he had just lighted it before his
accident occurred.

[Illustration: CALLOWHILL ST. HOUSE WHERE B. F. PITEZEL’S BODY WAS
FOUND.]

He did this part of the work previous to his death, knowing that I
did not smoke or knew little of filling pipes intelligently enough to
deceive any one. Having placed the room in the condition necessary
(breaking the large bottle, placing pipe upon the floor, etc.), I moved
his body as carefully as possible to this second-story room. I found
that the chloroform had given the side of the face and neck and part of
the chest quite the appearance of having been burned, and this made my
task the easier, although it seemed terrible enough in any event.

At last I forced myself to burn the clothing upon one side of the body,
smothering the flames when they reached the flesh, and in this way
produced partially successful results; then hastily gathering together
several small articles that I wished to take away with me, I placed
the room somewhat in order, and after going again to the room where he
lay to see him, as I then supposed for the last time, I at once left
the house, disguising myself to some extent by wearing one of his
hats, for I had been fully alive to the necessity of care after I had
first had time to think of the matter. Among the things taken from the
house was a bottle of chloroform, which he had previously bought in
Philadelphia, and prepared to send to Chicago to be placed with the
clothing and other things for Hedgpeth’s use.

In going out of the house I was careful to leave the door both unlocked
and open, in order to call attention to the condition of affairs within
as soon as possible. Upon reaching the more pure air of the street I
was seized with a feeling of nausea and dizziness, resulting probably
as an after-effect of the chloroform-laden air within.

I knew my general appearance must have been that of an intoxicated
person. To become relieved of this feeling somewhat if possible, I
decided to walk a portion of the distance to my residence, and while
doing so decided that it was best, my wife being well enough, to leave
Philadelphia at once, thinking that Pitezel had no doubt spoken of me
to some of his newly-made friends, and perhaps told them where I lived.
I, therefore, went to the Broad Street Station and ascertained that
a train would leave in half an hour (so I know now that I left the
Callowhill street house, at about 3.45 o’clock, as the train referred
to was the regular 4.30 Western train); I found that another train left
for the West at 10.25 P. M.; and although my wife was not able to do
so, I took her as carefully as I could to this train and left at that
hour.

I have often since that day tried to analyze the feelings which I had
at the time of Pitezel’s death. I felt it to be a terrible matter, and
certainly could not have deplored it more had he been a relative, but I
did not then, nor have I since felt the great horror concerning it that
I experienced at the time of Nannie Williams’ death in Chicago, which
was wholly unprovoked and for which I felt that I was the indirect
cause; while in this case, his death occurred as the result of his own
premeditation, in consequence of his having allowed himself to slowly
drift into pernicious habits for which he was more than any one else
to blame. Upon reaching Indianapolis, I was occupied until Wednesday
noon, September 5th, in arranging comfortable quarters for my wife, at
which time I started for St. Louis, reaching that city about 7 P. M.,
having bought upon the train a St. Louis _Globe-Democrat_, giving in a
Philadelphia dispatch an account of the finding of Pitezel’s (Perry’s)
body in the Callowhill street house upon the previous day.

After a short delay I went at once to Mrs. Pitezel’s place of
residence, about an hour’s ride from the centre of the city, hoping to
be in time to tell them of the matter myself. Upon reaching the house,
however, I found all in a state of commotion.

The neighbors were there, a physician had been summoned, and it was
some time before I could obtain a suitable opportunity to talk with
Mrs. Pitezel. I found her in a very nervous and over-wrought condition,
and I thought it best to palliate her fears for a time, and, therefore,
said to her, “Perhaps Ben is not dead. There may be a mistake in the
person, as I saw him alive last week.”

[Illustration: HOLMES’ “CASTLE” CHICAGO.]

To which she answered, “Oh, no! I am sure it is he, for I have been
writing to him under that name and at that address.” Just at this
moment Dessie, the oldest daughter, called me to one side and said,
“Do you think papa is really dead?” I replied that I feared so, but
that her mother should not be told until we were certain of it. She
said, “I don’t think he is. Last spring, when I was sick and he was
leaving me, he told me that if I ever heard that he was dead not to
believe it, as some work he was going to do might require him to have
people think so for a time.” I asked her if he had told her mother of
this, and she said, “No; her father had told her not to tell any one.”
As soon as a favorable opportunity occurred, I said to Mrs. Pitezel,
“Did Ben ever say anything to you about not worrying if you heard of
his death?” She replied, “Yes;” and, after stopping a moment, added,
“If he has gone and done that without letting us know, leaving us to
worry ourselves to death, I could almost wish he was dead. Is it the
insurance matter?” “I guess it is,” I replied, in such a tone that she
would think that I knew it to be so. She then asked if he would get
the money all right, and I told her that it would be paid to her, if
anyone. She asked, “Where is Ben now?” I replied that it was his plan
to go South at once. She said, “Well, I do not want him writing to me;
all his letters for me must go to you; and the children need not know
but that he is really dead, for they would certainly tell of it; they
are young, and will soon get over the worry.” I asked if the insurance
policy was there in the house, and she said, “I do not know; I will
see; he ought to have given it to you if he was going through with it
so soon; it may be in Chicago among some things stored in a warehouse
there.”

I did not allow her to look for it at that time, as she was too ill
yet from her shock to do so, but instructed her to look for it next
morning, and if well enough, to bring all the papers she had to my
attorney’s office. Some question then arose as to whether she could
find this office, and she remembered that at the time of my arrest
her husband had called there and had brought home one of their cards,
which she said was still among some of his papers, and with this she
could find her way.[4]  At about 9 o’clock, the family being more
quiet at the time, I returned to the hotel for the night, and I feel
sure that Mrs. Pitezel at the time of this visit, which was the first
confidential talk I had ever had with her, had no previous knowledge of
an intention to perpetrate a fraud upon this company other than a vague
idea that under certain conditions and at a more remote time it might
have been carried out, which was the exact condition of affairs as they
had existed upon the day of Pitezel’s death.

She is not a woman of extraordinary gifts, and any simulation on her
part at this time would not have deceived me. The next morning I
went to Judge Harvey’s office and found that owing to his absence my
case had been postponed. I left word there for Mrs. Pitezel, if she
called during the day, to wait for me, and I went to the offices of
another attorney and spoke of the insurance claim and told him if it
was promptly paid I could use some of that money. He said insurance
companies are slow and it will probably be some time before it is
settled. He asked how large an amount it was, and upon my stating it
was $10,000, he said, “You will need an attorney in fixing the papers;
can’t I do it for you?” I replied that I was about to consult Judge
Harvey. He said, “Let me have it; I have just settled a fire insurance
loss and had first-rate success, besides you are really my client, as
we sent you to Judge Harvey because my partner was away at the time.”
After returning to Judge Harvey’s office and not finding him there, I
saw him again and told him that the claim was a false one, that the
man was, in reality, not dead. He made a number of inquiries as to
the details of the fraud and finally said, “Well, if you have any one
to attend to it here it had better be me, for neither Judge Harvey
or my partner would dare to take hold of it. I do not belong to this
firm, although I have an office here with them. You will notice my
letter-heads appear with my own name alone; still I can avail myself
of their judgment in important cases, and on account of this supposed
death occurring under a fictitious name, you will find you need help.”

I then explained that Mrs. Pitezel was to come into the city that
morning, if she was able, with the papers, and he remarked, “Well,
she must not know that I have any knowledge that the claim is not a
legitimate one.”

It was then arranged that he should write some letters to the company’s
office in Chicago, to ascertain if Pitezel had, in reality, paid the
premium as he had stated, there being no receipts showing this had been
done, and also to write to the authorities in Philadelphia.

I asked him in regard to his fee, and he stated that it would depend
upon how much work had to be done, but that being a young attorney he
would make it a reasonable sum. Later, in going out of the building, I
met Mrs. Pitezel and explained to her that this lawyer would take care
of the case for her, and that she should not have him know that she
was aware of his knowing the true state of the case. In other words,
she, while in his presence, was to appear and speak as though it were a
genuine loss.

So, at this stage of the case, I knew Pitezel was dead; Mrs. Pitezel
and the attorney each supposed him to be alive, but, by a separate
agreement each had voluntarily made with me, both were to deceive each
other in this respect, making a most unique case of conspiracy, if
conspiracy it was.

I was not present during all of the attorney’s first interview with
Mrs. Pitezel, but she authorized him to write the necessary letters,
and I told her that he had made satisfactory arrangements with me in
regard to his fee, which I would be responsible to him for.

I then gave Mrs. Pitezel some money for her immediate wants and
left the city, intending to return again in ten days, at which time
my case was to be called in Court. Before going away I told the
attorney he could address me at Indianapolis at any time. About five
days thereafter I received a letter from him, stating that he had
received an answer to his letter of inquiry sent to the Philadelphia
authorities, in which they stated that the man referred to was only
known to them under the name of Perry, and would be buried as that
person unless some one identified him at once as Pitezel. He also
stated that Mrs. Pitezel instructed him to ask me to return to St.
Louis and aid her if I could do so.

This I did at once, and upon meeting him he told me it would be
necessary for some one to go to Philadelphia at once, and wished me to
furnish the money for him and one of the family to make the trip. I
told him that until the first of the following month I could not well
do this, but suggested a person with whom Pitezel had formerly dealt
that I thought would advance the necessary sum, if it was agreed that
it should be returned to him with interest as soon as the insurance was
collected. The attorney later negotiated such a loan, receiving $300.

At this time I saw Mrs. Pitezel, and she not being strong enough to
take the trip, it was decided that the daughter, Alice, should go.
This choice of the children being principally due to arrangements
previously made by Pitezel, that if Miss Williams came to this country,
and returned to her old occupation as a teacher, that Alice should live
with her for a year to go to school. I had received a letter from Miss
Williams that she had decided to do this, and at the time of Pitezel’s
death had asked her to come to settle in Cincinnati, thinking thus she
would break away from her old life, making it safer for me to be also
where she could help in regard to some Texas papers, which I had found
must at any hazard, be duplicated. Therefore, a few days later, when
Alice left St. Louis, it was with the full understanding that she was
to stay East with Miss Williams, or go with her to Cincinnati, if all
located there.

At the time I was about to leave, having made these arrangements, I
received a letter that had been forwarded to me from Chicago, asking
for my assistance in identifying Pitezel, it being known to the Chicago
office that he had been in my employ. To intelligently answer this
letter, I went to the attorney’s office, at which time I first closely
examined the insurance policy. I then wrote to the company as accurate
a description as I could give of him.

At this time the attorney said, “Why don’t you go to Philadelphia,
also?”

I replied that it would be an unnecessary expense, and I wished to go
to Cincinnati at that time to arrange for a house for the family. He
said, “I had better wait until the money was paid,” and I replied that
the family would have to have a house whether the money was paid or
not. Finally it was decided I should go to Philadelphia via Cincinnati,
which I did, writing to the company from the latter place that I had
business calling me toward Philadelphia, and I would call upon them in
a few days, and if possible aid them in identifying the body. Later
in the same day I met Alice _en route_. The next day, early in the
afternoon, I called upon the Insurance Company in Philadelphia.

I was introduced, after a little delay, to Colonel Bosbyshell, one of
the officers. He talked with me for some time regarding the case, and
finally, having asked me a good many questions as to Pitezel’s general
appearance, said, “Well, I think that it is either a case of mistaken
identity or a fraud. The man found here, and who has been buried under
the name of B. F. Perry, was a man who weighed forty pounds more than
Mr. Pitezel, both according to your judgment and according to his
application for insurance; and moreover, this man had red hair while
Pitezel’s was black. An attorney and some of Mr. Pitezel’s relations
are expected here at any time, and I wish you could stay and aid us in
clearing up the matter.”

He then left the office, and in a few minutes returned with some money,
which he tendered me, saying they would be glad to have me stay at
their expense. I replied that I would not take the money, but having
other work to attend to, I would call from day to day, and if I was put
to much expense or loss of time, I would ask them to pay me, otherwise
no charge would be made, explaining further that Pitezel was indebted
to me, and if the claim was a genuine one I would be willing to devote
some time to it in order that I could collect my money, which I had no
doubt his wife would pay.

That afternoon I saw our attorney, he and Alice having arrived in the
interim. I told him of my interview, and he at once said, “We shan’t
collect a dollar. They have either substituted a body for the one you
used, or your choice was so poor it had not deceived them.” He was in
favor of abandoning the case and returning to St. Louis.

[Illustration: ALICE PITEZEL.]

Finally it was decided that he should see the company the next day,
but he insisted, as he said, for his own safety, that if we met at
the company’s office he should not have it appear he had ever seen
me before. The next day, about half an hour after I called at the
insurance office, the president of the company, who I had met the day
before, and our attorney entered the room where I was seated, and the
following conversation took place:—

Mr. ——, the president, then introduced me to our attorney, saying:—

“This is Mr. Holmes, of Chicago, who carries insurance in our company,
and who formerly was well acquainted with Mr. Pitezel.”

Upon our shaking hands, he said, “I am glad to know you, sir.”

After some general conversation, I said, “The officers of the company
inform me that you have certain letters and other papers in Mr.
Pitezel’s handwriting, and I think, if agreeable to you, I can identify
them if belonging to him.”

Our attorney then turned to the president, saying, “Who is this man?
Before I show any papers or have anything more to do with one who is
apparently an outsider, I wish to know more about him.”

The president then said in a conciliatory manner, “Oh! I think you can
depend upon Mr. Holmes acting independently and for the interest of all
in the case. He is a man formerly in business in Chicago, and for whom
Mr. Pitezel worked for a long time, and if any one is able to give an
accurate description of him, Mr. Holmes should be able to do so.”

“My inquiry was a precautionary one,” said our attorney, “I am willing
under those circumstances that Mr. Holmes should examine the papers and
aid us if he can.”

During that afternoon our attorney entered into an agreement in writing
with the company, stipulating, that in order to establish his claim,
certain marks of identification should be found upon the body, which
it had been arranged to have disinterred the next day. Among those
marks should appear a large wart, or mole, upon the back of the neck,
jet black hair, a cowlick upon the forehead, a peculiarly decayed
condition of the teeth, a bruised thumb nail and a scar upon one of
the lower extremities.

That evening, quite late, our attorney came to me freshly terrified,
and again ready to abandon the case. He had met a man named Smith, who,
in conversation with him, had stated that while in Pitezel’s place of
business he had seen a man come in and hold some conversation with him,
who he had understood was a friend then living in the city. Smith had
stated that the friend had not come forward at the time of his death
and he thought it strange, and also remarked that if he ever saw the
man again he would know him.

Mr. Smith was to be at the Coroner’s office next day, and was also to
be present at the time the body was viewed. I told him that from what
I remembered of the man Smith, I did not think he was a very close
observer or overburdened with general intelligence, and I would take
the chances of his recognizing me, rather than give up the case at
that stage of it. Next morning we all met at the Coroner’s office. My
judgment had been correct in regard to Smith. He noticed me only as he
would have done any stranger, and upon being introduced to him, and
being in his company and holding a general conversation with him, I met
with the same result.

It was decided at the meeting at the Coroner’s office that later in the
day those interested should go to the cemetery where the body would be
exhumed for identification. This was done, there being in the party
the president and two others, representing the insurance company, a
physician and a Deputy Coroner representing the city; our attorney,
Alice Pitezel and myself, besides Mr. Smith before referred to.

Upon reaching the cemetery we were told that the body had already been
placed in a small house and was ready to be seen.

I felt, that there being two other physicians present, it was not
necessary for me to take part in the identification, unless called upon
to do so; and had, upon first arriving together with Mr. Perry, taken
the daughter to a distant quarter of the enclosure. The physician made
the examination of the body, which lay in a well-lighted room; and,
after taking abundant time for this purpose, came out of the building
and announced that all marks of identification were wanting. After
some further conversation, the president said to our attorney that they
were satisfied before they came there that such would be the case, and
a general movement was made preparatory to leaving the place.

The attorney asked me what I thought should be done, and upon my
answering him, he told the president that he would like to have me
examine the body as well. I asked the doctor if he would object, and he
said “No,” but that I would not find it a pleasant task.

I entered the building, and hardly had passed the door before I
was positive that the doctor had been mistaken in the color of the
hair. Upon a close examination, all the marks were easily found: the
wart upon the neck, equal in diameter to that of a lead pencil, and
projecting fully a quarter of an inch from the surface; the cowlick,
the bruised nail, the teeth decayed exactly as had been described; and
lastly, the scar an inch and a half in length upon the foot.

I could do no less than call the doctor in, and one by one he
grudgingly admitted their presence; and that there should be no
further question as to the identity of the man, I asked him to remove
the wart for microscopical examination, some of the hair, the nail
and the scar. He said he had no implement with him that he cared to
use for this purpose. I had only a very small lancet, but I removed
the necessary portions, and later turned them over to the Coroner’s
representative.

I then endeavored to have a decision reached at once in order to save
the necessity of the daughter seeing the body, feeling it to be cruel
to have her do so, and if possible to prevent it. The president would
not agree to this, but it was finally arranged that she should see only
the teeth. All other portions of the body were therefore excluded from
view, and I led the child into the building.

It was a terribly hard thing that I had to do, for she was but a
delicate child of perhaps fourteen or fifteen years, yet she was
courageous and very willing to do what she could.

Upon reaching the body she said, “Yes, those are papa’s teeth, I am
sure of it.” I at once led her away, but I found the impression left
upon her tender mind would remain as long as she lived, and have always
felt it to have been a wholly unnecessary requirement upon the part of
the company.

Without regard to what the reasons were, the doctor’s report was
destined to cost me dearly, as will later be seen in this history. This
ended the examination at the grave-yard, and we all returned to the
city.

Even at that time the officers of the company would not express
themselves as willing to allow the claim, but later in the day they
reluctantly admitted that they were satisfied with the identification.
Upon reaching the Coroner’s office again, the Coroner very kindly
offered to take my testimony the next morning, which was Sunday, in
order that I could leave the city without further loss of time. After
making this arrangement, I went to the insurance company’s office
where I was reweighed, remeasured and in other ways readjusted my own
insurance, and later went to an undertaker’s office, and made every
arrangement to have the body properly buried in a good locality, well
satisfied to be able to perform this final act for my friend.

The next day at 4.30 P. M., having previously gone to the Coroner’s
office, I left Philadelphia, taking Alice Pitezel with me. I had not
heard from Miss Williams as I felt sure I should do, informing me of
her expected arrival in New York, and thus not hearing, I addressed her
there, asking both she and Hatch to come to Cincinnati as soon as they
conveniently could, stating my reasons for asking them to do so.

Alice did not like to return to St. Louis on account of having told
every one she knew before leaving that she was going away for the
winter, although she would have been very glad to have seen her mother;
and upon reaching Indianapolis I told her she could choose between
returning to St. Louis or remaining there for the few intervening days
while I went to St. Louis and returned with some of the rest of the
family upon our way to Cincinnati, it having previously been arranged
with Mrs. Pitezel that this move should be made at once to save
commencing another month in St. Louis, where she was paying rent.

Alice having decided to remain in Indianapolis, I took her to Stubbin’s
Hotel and left her there in charge of those whom I had become
acquainted with during my previous stay in that city. The next day I
received a telegram from the attorney, stating that the company had
paid him the insurance, after deducting several hundred dollars for
expenses, which, I think, was wholly unjust towards Mrs. Pitezel, the
whole amount, if any, being due her.

I then returned to St. Louis, where, owing to my absence, my own
case had again been postponed, and I therefore decided to return to
Cincinnati.

Taking the two children, Nellie and Howard, I started for that city
via Indianapolis, telegraphing to the hotel to have some one accompany
Alice to the train in the morning to join us. This was done, and at
about 8 A. M. we reached the Cincinnati station where Hatch met us. It
was the first I had seen of him since early in December of the previous
year.

Miss Williams had remained in New York, being unwilling to go to
Cincinnati where she had previously played, and therefore was known to
some people.

Being in haste to commence my work among the real estate men, I gave
the children into Hatch’s charge, and he took them to a small hotel
near the station. But not liking the surroundings, I returned to
the Hotel Bristol. I spent a very busy day, but was not successful
in finding property to exchange for Chicago property, and at last I
thought it safer to rent a house for a time, and then, by advertising
my property, find something more suitable for the children’s wants. I
therefore hired a house, paying one month’s rent and six months’ water
tax. I also made arrangements for its being comfortably furnished.

Miss Williams not having come, I looked around for some trustworthy
person to care for the children until their mother could reach them.
Mrs. Pitezel having a desire to visit her parents before going
elsewhere, did so.

Not finding such a person as I wished, and not liking to leave the
children without proper attention, I decided to take them with me to
Indianapolis, where I expected to be engaged in some real estate work
for the following two weeks. This I did, Hatch accompanying us, and
then going on to Chicago from whence he returned in a few days.

We reached Indianapolis about October 1st; the children stayed one
day at English’s Hotel, and then I engaged permanent board for them
at the Circle House, my wife and myself being at another hotel near
by, so that I could visit the children each day and know they were
properly cared for. This form of life was new to the children, and
they thoroughly enjoyed it, going about the city either by themselves,
Hatch’s or my own company.

I shortly afterwards returned to St. Louis, and, upon entering the
attorney’s office, he said, “Well, I am glad you have come; my partner
had been wishing that you would return.” I said, “Why?” He replied,
“Because he wants to get this matter settled up and get our fee out of
it. You know how close work it was to get the company to believe the
claim was straight, and something may occur to make them change their
minds. But, I said, “Why has he to be considered, even in that event?”
He replied, “Because, in a case as big as this, he will have to be
considered; besides, if it had not been for his letter of introduction
to Superintendent Linden in Philadelphia, the money would not have been
paid.” I then told him that I had not yet seen Mrs. Pitezel, but we
would arrange the settlement when I did so, and I would have her come
in and sign the necessary papers later. “Well,” said he, “what do you
think we should receive?” I said, “I have no idea; you must set your
price, not I.”

He then said, “Well, usually in these insurance cases the attorneys get
fifty per cent. of the claim. I have asked three disinterested lawyers
about it, and they say I ought to have that much, they not knowing it
as a fraudulent claim, which makes it all the worse.”

My answer was, “Well, if it comes to taking $5,000, which, from your
own statement to me, is more money than you ever before earned in your
life, you will have the opportunity to keep the balance as well.”
After some further conversation, he offered to choose an attorney if I
would choose one, and leave the fee to their decision, and with this
understanding I went away to return the next morning. When I returned
he met me with the announcement that his partner would not agree to his
proposition. I then said, “I wish to see him if he is the principal.”
At that time I had never been introduced to him. He left his office in
a few minutes and returned and conducted me into his partner’s private
office. He was seated at his desk, apparently much too busy to leave
his work for so small a matter as the settlement of a $5,000 fee.

Finally he turned upon me and, in an over-bearing, bull-dozing manner,
said, “What is all this trouble about? Don’t you expect to pay your
attorney after you have hired him?” I was angry at his insolent manner,
and at once told him that I would have no words with him. If they
wished to receive $500 for their services (reminding him that had it
not been for my presence in Philadelphia they would not have collected
the claim, as he had shown so very little tact in treating with the
company—so much so that they had been twice upon the point of ordering
him from their offices) then that amount could be deducted, but no
more.

He then said, “I will allow no man to come into my office and dictate
to me in regard to a fee after the work has been done for him, and as
for $500 it is an insult to offer it.” I then reminded him that I was
not making it as an offer to him, one of the most prominent lawyers of
St. Louis, but to his partner, a recent law graduate, to whom a $500
fee would be a large one, inasmuch as his expenses upon the trip had
been elaborately provided for.

He said, “Well, we will take $3,000 for this work and nothing less.” I
replied, “It cannot be paid.”

He said, “Then there is no further use for us to discuss the matter.”
Turning to his partner, he then said, “Go to the bank and get a New
York draft for what you have left; I am going to return the money.” I
said, “Very well, sir, nothing could be more to my advantage than this,
and upon Mrs. Pitezel receiving the money direct from the company I
shall tender to you your fee of $500.”

He replied, “You will never have a chance to do this; when the money
is sent back I shall at the same time write a letter to my old friend,
Captain Linden of the Philadelphia Police Department, stating that
since my return we have found out that the claim is crooked and cannot
handle such money, and that we think it our duty to aid him by placing
him in immediate possession of all the facts pertaining to the matter;
moreover, you are wanted in Fort Worth, Texas, and I shall at once
cause your arrest before you can leave the city.”

I replied, “You could only cause me trouble in regard to the insurance
matter at the cost of your partner’s disgrace.” He said, “It is not so;
it would be the word of our firm, which is well known throughout the
country, against your single statement, and you a man that has already
been under arrest once and will be again inside of an hour.” This so
angered me that I said, “You can send back the money, you can arrest
me, but you cannot intimidate or browbeat me. I will spend ten years in
the penitentiary before giving in to you now.”

Upon this I left the office. Mrs. Pitezel was seated in the outer
room, having come in in the meantime. I asked her to come at once
to Judge Harvey’s office, and upon her hesitating to do so, when he
asked her to remain a moment, I told her to make no settlement that
involved a greater reduction than $500 from the amount the company had
paid. Upon my doing this I left the office, and waited a long time for
Mrs. Pitezel; and when she met me she was in tears and said that they
would not let her leave the office until she allowed them to deduct
$2,500 from the insurance money, and that she had also signed a long
typewritten agreement of some kind. She then had the remainder of the
money, about $6,000, with her, the lawyers having previously paid some
bills upon her giving them a written order to do so.

Some days previous to this I had made arrangements that the amount of
money to be used at Fort Worth should be paid at a bank at St. Louis
in exchange for a note her husband had executed while there.[5] Mrs.
Pitezel went to the bank and lifted this note, and of the balance
gave me $225 for my expenses, as she supposed. As a matter of fact,
the $5,000 thus paid upon the note came to me, I having months before
had to satisfy the claim by the use of other property. That afternoon,
some time later, I left St. Louis, intending to return to Cincinnati
and complete the arrangements there for the home of the Pitezel family.
Before leaving St. Louis, however, I arranged that Mrs. Pitezel and
the two other children should go to Galva, Ill., upon their intended
visit to Mrs. Pitezel’s mother, and also made private arrangements
to be informed of any movements that should be made by the attorneys
detrimental to my interests.

Upon my returning to Indianapolis I found that both the children were
apparently enjoying themselves. Hatch had received a letter from Miss
Williams (to whom he claimed he was married) asking that we both meet
her in Detroit. This meeting was delayed, as I had some more real
estate work to do in Indianapolis which had been neglected, owing to
the insurance work. While attending to this work I received word that
the attorneys were intending to make trouble for me, and almost at the
same time word came from Chicago that some Fort Worth detectives were
again there, and had heard of my being in Cincinnati, Indianapolis and
St. Louis.

After consulting with Hatch, who was very much worried lest if I were
arrested it would implicate him as being with me, and perhaps Miss
Williams as well, we concluded that we should go away at once. Finally
I decided to abandon the Cincinnati house, and have the Pitezel family
locate elsewhere, as the attorneys knew of my former trips to that
city. I therefore wrote Mrs. Pitezel at Galva, advising her to change
her plans and go to Detroit.

Up to this time, all that I had done for Mrs. Pitezel she had been
aware of, but I did not now think it prudent that she should know
of the probability of trouble arising from the insurance company.
I preferred having her locate in some large city at that time, and
explain to her afterwards about her husband’s death as he had requested
me to do, and also of the necessity of remaining quiet until I could
ascertain if any real danger existed.

Quite early upon the morning of October 10th, I went to the children’s
hotel, and found them eating their breakfast. I told them we were going
away that day, and went with them to their rooms and instructed them
to divide their belongings into three separate packages, they having
previously been contained in a very old trunk, which was not in a
condition to be taken further. There was left in this trunk some old
clothing, among which was a suit of heavy clothes which had belonged to
Pitezel.

I then asked the children whether they would go with me to Chicago,
and then to Detroit, or go with Hatch. Howard Pitezel chose to go
with Hatch, while the girls desired to go to Chicago, hoping, while
there, to have time to visit some of their former acquaintances. Having
some purchases to make before leaving, I therefore, after telling the
girls at what time to meet me at the station, left the hotel, having
instructed Howard not to leave until Hatch should come, in order that
he could direct him to come to the station before my train left. I met
Hatch and Howard later upon the street. This was the last time I ever
saw the boy Howard, at which time he was both well and contented. The
first few days after his leaving home he had been homesick.

[Illustration: HOWARD PITEZEL.]

While I was in the barber shop at the station upon this same morning,
I asked Hatch to go to the hotel and have the nearly empty trunk taken
to the station and have it checked to any destination he might choose,
there being nothing of value in it, and it not being desirable to have
it left at the hotel. Upon reaching Chicago, I took the two girls to a
hotel, as I had business in a distant part of the city. I stayed during
the one night I remained there at a new hotel upon the west side of
North Clark street, less than a block north of the Lincoln avenue car
junction.[6]

Not deeming it prudent, owing to the late news I had heard at
Indianapolis, to go to my attorney’s office, I had both him and my
agent meet me elsewhere, and arranging my work as quickly as possible,
I left Chicago upon Friday, October 12th, going directly to Detroit,
taking the girls with me. During the latter part of this trip my wife
was upon the same train, she having left Indiana that morning in
response to a request from me to do so.

Anticipating this, I had made arrangements with Hatch before leaving
Indianapolis to be at the Detroit Station to take charge of the
children. Upon our reaching Detroit I at once took my wife to a hotel
about one mile from the station, and as I was leaving the train I saw
Hatch helping the girls from the car in which they had traveled. About
a half hour later Hatch met me at the Western Union telegraph office in
response to a note I had given to Alice for him.

It was very late at night, and I returned with him to the hotel, where
he had taken the girls, to see that they were all right, and while
going there he told me that he had been delayed twenty-four hours at
some junction between Indianapolis and Detroit, so that he had only
reached Detroit that afternoon, and Miss Williams not wishing by any
accident to meet my wife had gone to Buffalo to visit some theatrical
friends, taking Howard with her. I did not think strange of this, for
I knew Howard had known and liked Miss Williams the year before, when
she was in my office in Chicago. The next day I engaged permanent board
for both myself and wife, and also for the children, in two separate
portions of the city, as I expected to remain there for some time, and
enlisting Hatch’s services, we proceeded to look for a house that, if
possible, could be bought in exchange for Chicago property, and by so
doing save money.

If this could not be accomplished, then a house that should be rented
for a few months, until such a trade could be made. A small house was
found so favorably located, with school advantages for the children,
that I thought it best to pay the small deposit required, five dollars,
to hold it for a few days.

On Sunday morning Mrs. Pitezel came to Detroit, and I did not think it
wise to tell her positively that she was to settle there until I should
have heard again from both St. Louis and Chicago. During the interval,
I had her board at a hotel; nor did I think it wise to tell her the
other children were in the city, until I knew that no further move
was to be made, lest she not understanding the danger of arrest—if
such danger I should find still existing—she would be unwilling to go
elsewhere, unless she supposed the children and her husband, or both,
had already gone.

I had brought with me a package of papers from Chicago, which I did not
care to carry in my own trunks, and it was arranged to conceal them
in the house lately rented in Detroit. I took them there in company
with Hatch, and proceeded to place them above the ceiling of the upper
story, when he suggested that in case of fire they would be lost, and
volunteered to prepare a place next day in the basement for their
safe-keeping. And this he did by first buying a new shovel, and then
making a small excavation in the earth, not using this shovel, as it
afterward appeared, but another found in the basement.

Upon the morning of October 17th I received startling intelligence
from both St. Louis and Chicago, and, upon holding a consultation, it
was with reluctance that we decided to leave Detroit and go either to
Canada or Europe; for I felt that any move, without regard to expenses,
was better than to have Mrs. Pitezel arrested and myself as well.
This day was a very busy one. Before Mrs. Pitezel left St. Louis I
had bought a large trunk, which I loaned to her to carry part of her
personal effects to her new house. When it was decided to make a move
into other lands, I arranged with Hatch that, while I was busy about
other matters, he should take the trunk to his room and repack it,
and exclude a multitude of worthless articles, after having told Mrs.
Pitezel that this was to be done.

It also became necessary to go to a city called Ypsilanti upon that
same day to get a package of valuable papers I had ordered forwarded to
me there, and, being so busy about other matters, I requested Hatch to
make the trip for me. He hesitated considerably about doing it, saying
he must see to repacking this trunk. I told him that I could better
take the time to do this than to go to Ypsilanti. He replied that I
could not well take it to his room, as I was not known to the people of
whom he rented. I told him I would arrange it otherwise, and he then
started for Ypsilanti.

At about one o’clock I found an expressman, and accompanying him to
a feed store near by bought a flour barrel with the address of a
party in Hartford, Conn., upon one end of it. We then drove to Mrs.
Pitezel’s hotel and had the trunk taken to the depot. There, upon the
platform, I took such worthless articles as Mrs. Pitezel had placed in
a separate part of the trunk and put them in the barrel, and leaving
the trunk at the depot had the expressman take the barrel to either
the United States or American Express Company’s office, and ship it
to Hartford, Conn. At about 2 P. M. I went to a livery stable on ——
street, and hiring a horse and buggy drove to the house that had been
rented and took the two girls with me for a drive. I entered the house
and procured the papers I had previously left there. I also left a note
instructing Hatch to the effect that if he came there from Ypsilanti
with the other papers, not to bury them. I then drove to Hatch’s room
and left a small note, and this accounts for the note being later found
in the house where I directed the authorities to search.

Earlier in the same day Hatch and I visited several large stores, and
at one obtained a $500 and two $200 bills, which, together with other
small bills, making in all $1,000, which sum he took to Miss Williams
to pay upon what was due her on the Fort Worth transaction. Before
leaving Detroit, Hatch brought to the depot the new shovel wrapped in a
paper, and wished to put it in the trunk, but upon my remarking that it
seemed more useless than things I had just taken out to make more room,
he said he had paid for it and did not care to throw it away.

The next morning my wife and I left Detroit for Toronto at 10 o’clock.
Mrs. Pitezel and the two children started two hours later. The next
morning Hatch took the two girls, Alice and Nellie, to the train and
they made the journey to the same city alone twenty-four hours later,
and over the same road I had come, while Hatch came to Toronto by the
way of Buffalo, where he stopped to see Miss Williams.

I reached Toronto early Thursday evening, October 18th, and went at
once to the Walker House. After taking dinner, I went to the station
and met Mrs. Pitezel, taking her to a hotel near by, and returned to
the Walker House for the night. Next morning we breakfasted at about
8.30. I visited Mrs. Pitezel at her hotel about a half hour, and then
with my wife visited several fur stores, purchasing a fur cape and
returned with her to the Walker House for the mid-day meal. Immediately
thereafter we went for a long country drive, and did not return until
about 6 P. M. I ate dinner and then, as upon the preceding evening,
went to the station. This time I met the two girls, Alice and Nellie,
with whom Hatch had started from Detroit that morning, as stated.

[Illustration: NELLIE PITEZEL]

Upon their arrival I placed them in an omnibus running to the Albion
Hotel, in care of the runner for that house, and returning to the
Walker House had hardly time to prepare for the theatre, which I
attended that evening with my wife. The next morning, after eating
a late breakfast,[7] my first occupation upon this day was to go to
the Hotel Albion and visit the children. I found them in their room,
greatly interested in watching the immense open market across the
street. I remained with them until almost, if not quite, 10 A. M. I
then went to the post-office, making a few calls at some haberdashers
on the way. I reached the post-office not later than 10.30, when I met
Hatch, in accordance with an arrangement made before leaving Detroit.
He had visited Miss Williams at Buffalo, upon the trip to Toronto; and,
in answer to my inquiry, stated that the boy Howard was well, and that
he had wanted to come to Toronto with him, but he had thought it best
for him to wait and accompany Miss Williams if she came.

He then left me, as he stated, to find for himself a private room,
agreeing to meet me at the same place at 2 P. M.

Now, in this short time between 10.30 A. M. and 2 P. M., it appears
from the testimony recently taken in Toronto at an inquest, that a
visit was made to a real estate agent then in a distant part of the
city; a call was made upon the owner of the house at Vincent street
of sufficient length to arrange for renting the property, and to
enter into a detailed description of the family supposed to be the
future tenants, and become well acquainted with the owner; then to
take possession of the house, to call upon a neighbor and make
their acquaintance as well, and, presumably, to eat a lunch at some
restaurant, and buy a small amount of furniture for the house just
hired. Add to this the almost certain probability that the lessee had
visited other houses as well, it being hardly possible that he could
have found a house at once so well adapted to the purpose as this seems
to have been, and there is little time left for other work before 2 P.
M. of the same day.

My movements during these same hours were as follows: Leaving Hatch at
the post-office, I went to Mrs. Pitezel’s hotel, fully one mile away,
stopping upon my way at the telegraph office for fully fifteen minutes,
while a search was instituted in a different part of the building
for undelivered telegrams. After making a short call at the hotel, I
returned to the Walker House, went again to the fur store where our
purchase of the day previous had been made (one of two stores located
very near each other about two blocks west of the post-office and north
of K street). Here fully one-half hour was taken up in the work done
there, which included the purchase of two storm garments. We then went
to King street, made several calls at furnishing stores and one large
dry goods store, and then, after spending some time in selecting a good
pocket compass, returned to the Walker House for lunch; to do which,
and to write two letters, certainly occupied fully an hour, probably
more.

I then went again to the Albion Hotel, stopping to buy the children
some fruit and toys upon the way. At the appointed hour, I went to
meet Hatch at the post-office. He was late in keeping his appointment,
and I made several purchases in that neighborhood, and I think at this
time selected the material and was measured for a suit of clothes at a
custom tailor shop, upon the west side of Young street, near junction
of the street leading to the post-office.

Upon meeting Hatch, I told him I was to be absent from the city on
Sunday, and asked if he could see to the children while I was away,
and if they wished to go for a street car ride, he would accompany
them. This he agreed to do, and after making some further plans with
him for the following week, I went to the Hotel Albion again and told
the children of the arrangement made for their ride, then went to the
furnishing store on King street kept by a man named Dickson, I think.

When I found the grade of goods I had been in search of, and after
purchasing some, I returned to the Walker House with hardly time left
to be shaved and go to Mrs. Pitezel’s hotel, to let her know I was to
be out of the city the next day, and to catch the 4 or 4.30 train for
Niagara Falls.

At this time my wife’s trunk and the large trunk from Detroit, were
both at the Toronto Depot, and I asked that they be checked to Niagara.
I remarked to the baggage agent that I had no need to take the large
one, save to avoid storage. He asked how long I desired to leave it
there, and I replied that was uncertain, but perhaps a week. He asked
for a half dollar and said that there are no further charges if it
was taken away in a week’s time. The trunk never left the Toronto
Depot during my stay there. Sunday, October 21st, was passed by us at
the Falls, returning to Toronto by the way of Hamilton in the early
evening, at which time I went to the Palmer House.

During Monday I was busy about the city, returning to my hotel
often during the day. Part of the time I was with Hatch searching
for a suitable location in which he and Miss Williams could open a
respectable massage establishment, if they all settled there, which was
the real object of the Toronto trip, as I have reason to believe.

During the day he asked me if I would not spend Tuesday night with him
in and about the city. I gave him to understand that I might do so.
Tuesday morning we met, as had become our custom, at the post-office
between 10 and 11 o’clock.

I received additional and disquieting messages from the West, and by
noon-time we had made up our minds that the conditions favorable to the
business we had hoped to find did not exist in Toronto, and had decided
to go to England instead. Hatch particularly favored this plan, as they
had had a prosperous business there during the foregoing year, and he
at once wrote Miss Williams to that effect, and for her to meet the
two girls at Niagara at as early a day as possible, which she was to
appoint by letter.

She was to take the three children to London, while Mrs. Pitezel took
the others there a little later on, or as soon as we could become
settled again.

When Hatch again urged me to stay with him during the night, I finally
told him that since my terrible experience of the year before, which
the indirect results of my loose living had been Nannie Williams’
death, and more particularly since my marriage, I had endeavored to
live a clean life, and thought best not to deviate in this instance.
I returned to the Palmer House not later than 4.30 P. M. Later, in
thinking the matter over, I thought, inasmuch as he had helped me so
much during the preceding weeks, it seemed like ill-treatment towards
him, and decided that if he brought the matter up next day I would
spend a part of the evening with him.

Acting upon this decision, I told my wife next morning, Wednesday, that
I might not return until late, but later in the day I reconsidered my
former plan and returned to the Palmer House at about 2.30 P. M., and
my wife being absent and the room locked at the time, I threw some
flowers I had just bought into the room through the open transom, my
wife finding them upon her return a short time later.

During the day I had been buying a quantity of small articles to
send to my relatives in New Hampshire, and had gotten them together
temporarily at the furnishing store previously mentioned. At noon-time
I had eaten lunch with the children and in the afternoon Hatch had
taken them for a drive. In the evening I accompanied my wife to the
theatre, enjoying myself far more than the case would be had I been
going about the city together with Hatch and a guilty conscience.

On Thursday, October 24th, the day when it is reasonable to suppose the
two girls were killed, I was busy about the city during the forenoon.
The girls came to the post-office at about 10.30, and either went with
Hatch for a drive or a streetcar ride, they having been in Hatch’s care
more than with me while in Toronto, for the reason that their hotel
was so distant it encroached upon my time to ride to visit both them
and Mrs. Pitezel and do what work I wished. That morning we heard
that Miss Williams would meet the girls at Niagara upon the arrival of
the afternoon train. They ate lunch with me between 1 and 2 o’clock,
Hatch being elsewhere at the time. The girls returned to their hotel
afterwards for a few minutes to change part of their attire for some
that was warmer, which I had bought for them in anticipation of their
sea voyage. Later they joined me again and I bought them a number of
presents. I also bought Miss Williams a small brooch, which I gave to
Alice, together with a note, which she was to deliver personally to
Miss Williams.

My object in sending it in this way was that Hatch knew of our former
relations, and I had avoided sending by him as he then claimed she was
his wife. About half an hour before train time, which I think was 4.30
P. M., we were upon Young street. I sent the girls to a restaurant or
bakery near by to get some lunch prepared to take with them upon the
train, instructing them to then come to a large store which I pointed
out to them, where I would await their arrival. I then entered this
store and bought some small articles for the children, having in my
hands at the time some underwear I had previously purchased to send to
Howard, the boy, when I heard a familiar voice, and turning, saw Mrs.
Pitezel and the other two children.

I quote from her recent statement, made in Toronto, as to what took
place between us then, and state that it could only have been on this
day, for while there I asked her if she could get ready to leave
Toronto that evening:—

“I am convinced that my two children were right here in Toronto while I
was here,” said Mrs. Pitezel. “One day while I was shopping in a large
store here, I suddenly saw Holmes. He said you wait here a little while
until I return. I believe my children were right there in that store at
the time, and Holmes took them out some other way so I should not see
them.”

As a matter of fact, they were at the bakery before spoken of,
and I can only wish now that they had been with me, and met their
mother, though at the time I should have considered it an unfortunate
circumstance for the same reasons that obtained in Detroit.

I at once left the store and took the children to the depot, where
Hatch met me with some bundles of goods he had bought. I took the
children to the ladies’ waiting room and giving Alice $400, directed
her to go into the private waiting room and fasten it securely within
her dress, and later give it to Miss Williams. I also gave each of the
girls a small amount of spending money. I wrote a telegram, directing
it to myself at the hotel opposite the Palmer House, for Alice to send
me early next morning from Niagara, if anything happened to prevent
Miss Williams meeting them as had been agreed upon.

I also gave them explicit directions as to where to stay, and told them
that I would surely go to them at once if any trouble arose. I then
asked if they were afraid to go alone. Alice answered, “Oh, no; I wish
you or Mr. Hatch were going along, though.” The train came so quickly
that I had little time to bid them good-bye, and therefore got upon
the train and accompanied them perhaps a mile to a station where the
train slowed up; Hatch going still farther, at his suggestion, to see
that the conductor took their tickets and agreed to transfer them at
Hamilton to the right train.

I sat in the seat with Nellie during this time, Alice being in the seat
in front. They spoke of their prospective voyage, gave me messages for
their mother and the baby, and asked how long it would be before we all
came to London. I told them to help Miss Williams all they could, and
especially cautioned Nellie about quarreling with Howard, which she was
apt to do when they were together, finally telling them that upon my
arrival there the three who had not quarreled would receive a present
of considerable value.

My opportunity to leave the train having now arrived, I hastily bade
them good-bye, and started to leave the car. Little Nellie followed
me to the door, and said, “Don’t forget about baby,” and reaching
up kissed me good-bye, and ran back to the seat again. With all
truthfulness, I most earnestly state that under the circumstances, and
at this time, about 4.30 P. M., Thursday, October 25th, I last saw
these children.

I immediately returned to the Palmer House, telling my wife we should
leave the city next morning, and said to her that if she had any more
purchases to make, she should attend to it at once, as certain of the
stores closed early. For the next hour I was busy collecting my various
purchases about the city, and taking them to the depot to place in the
large trunk, and at not later than 6.30 Hatch was again at the depot,
and stated that the conductor had taken the children in charge before
he left the train. He then left me, agreeing to meet me early next
morning at the hotel to learn if the children arrived all right. I then
returned at once to the Palmer House and ate dinner.

Without delay I went to Mrs. Pitezel’s hotel, and assisted her in
packing her trunk and having it taken to the train before 8 o’clock,
the larger trunk going upon the same train; but Mrs. Pitezel and Dessie
remarked to me later that they saw that trunk upon their arrival at
Prescott early next morning, and a day later the Custom’s officer at
Ogdensburg, during his inspection, came across the shovel Hatch had
insisted in placing in it at Detroit, remarking that he did not know
but that it was dutiable on account of being new.

If this trunk had been at the Vincent street house there would have
been no necessity of one’s going to the neighbors to borrow a spade
with which to conceal the evidence of the terrible crime committed
there. I returned to the Palmer House before Mrs. Pitezel had
started—not later than 8.15 P. M.—and during the evening aided my wife
in her preparations for the next day’s journey; and only left the
hotel before taking the train next morning at 8 o’clock, for about two
minutes, to step across the street and ascertain if the girls had met
Miss Williams, as was reasonable to suppose as no telegram was there.
Hatch was waiting for me at the hotel, and said he should wait one or
two days in Toronto to get his mail and to buy some dutiable goods to
take across the border.

I did no smuggling while upon this trip, nor was I even absent from my
hotel any evening or night, save when accompanied by my wife to some
place of amusement; nor did I ever leave my hotel before 8.30 A. M.,
save upon this last morning.

Thus it will be seen that this is not an unimportant statement, for
according to a witness named Rodgers, if his testimony at the inquest
at Toronto is correctly reported, he saw the two children at 1 P. M.,
Thursday, and that early next morning a spade that had been previously
borrowed had been returned to him.

In an informal talk upon this subject, Mr. Rodgers has several times
stated that this occurred quite early before working hours.

The hackneyed expression that “a spade is a spade” may be true, but I
feel that it but poorly expresses the full value and significance of
this particular article. Again, Mr. Rodgers states that “Some time—in
one published account some days later—the keys were left with me;
I fully believe that the children met their death and were buried
during the night, Thursday, October 25th; the spade returned before 8
o’clock—for Hatch was at that time at the hotel—that during the day
their clothes were slowly burned”—and this, while I was journeying
towards Prescott, Canada, a railroad trip of about eight hours, and
where I registered at the Imperial Hotel not later than 4.30 P. M. that
day.

It may be asked how at this late date I can fully remember what
occurred upon one certain Saturday, nearly a year previous to the
writing of these pages, to distinguish it from the preceding day or any
other day that is less important? Upon first hearing of the children’s
death, I was no more in a position to be positive in regard to this
particular day than any other, until after thinking of the matter for
hours and days together, as I believe only a man can force himself to
think when he feels that perhaps his life depends upon such exertion, I
arranged the facts in my mind in something like the following order:—

Being first sure, from some written memoranda, that I arrived in
Toronto upon Thursday, October 18th, upon the next day, which was
Friday, I was sure that no purchases had been made, save the fur
garment referred to, because this took up the entire morning, and
our ride occurred the same day, which fact was firmly impressed upon
my mind by remembering that the livery conveyance came to the Walker
House. This could not have occurred on any other day, as next afternoon
we were going to Niagara, and at all later dates we were at the Palmer
House. I also remember that the second purchases at the fur store,
that of the storm coats, were made upon the day following our previous
purchase; this being further strengthened and impressed upon my mind by
remembering that upon my return from Niagara the day following these
purchases, a delay had occurred of several hours at Hamilton. The
weather being such as to require it, I went to the baggage car, and
after considerable conversation with the baggage man, was allowed to
open our trunk for this garment.

This date brought to my mind that the compass had been used while at
Niagara, showing that that, too, was bought upon the day previous. This
in its turn made me think that the purchase of the compass had occurred
while passing from one furnishing store to another, looking for the
special grade of underwear I wished, and which was bought later in the
day, showing me clearly that at least a dozen other calls had been made
at different other establishments for a like purpose, and which must of
necessity have occurred prior to the purchase which ended my search.

My suit of clothes was promised to be delivered to me upon the
following Tuesday, if possible, and upon Wednesday at the latest, and
I was required to call once in the meantime to have them fitted. If
instead of Saturday I had been measured Monday, and told to call the
next day to be fitted, they could not have been promised to me upon
Tuesday, and so on in regard to the other visits made after this day,
until I became so thoroughly convinced that I have not yet verified
them by tracing the several stores, not knowing their names; but I
fully believe that the order books and delivery slips of at least three
responsible establishments will show that I must have been transacting
business in their stores at the very hours when it had been sworn I was
in remote parts of the city paying friendly visits to the owner and
neighbor of the Vincent street house.

From there the remainder of my journey was by private conveyance,
hired for that purpose, and through a blinding snow storm. My pen
cannot adequately portray the meeting with my aged parents, nor, were
it possible, would I allow it to do so for publication. Suffice it to
say that I came to them as one from the dead, they for years having
considered me as such, until I had written them a few days before.

That after embracing them, as I looked into their dear faces once more,
my eyes grew dim with the tears kindly sent to shut out for the moment
the signs of added years I knew my uncalled-for silence of the past
seven years had done much to unnecessarily increase.

For the next two days I tried to feel that I was a boy again, and when
I could go away by myself for a few minutes, I would wander from room
to room, taking up or passing my hands lovingly over each familiar
object, opening each cupboard and drawer with the same freedom I would
have used twenty years before.

Here I found some letters written to my mother when I was a boy,
and later as a young man; then as a physician, giving her careful
directions regarding her health; then the letter written the day
before my supposed death, all bearing evidence of the many times she
had sorrowfully read them. There also I found toys that years before
had seemed so precious to me, and old garments carefully laid away,
principally those which I had worn, and which I felt sure mother had
purposely caused to be placed separately, thinking me dead, for if such
had been the case it would have been the first death in our family.

And, moreover, I had always been looked upon by the others as “mother’s
boy.” When I went to the room where, times without number, I had been
given such faithful teachings, and prayed with so earnestly, and had I
been the earnest Christian my mother had then entreated me to become, I
could have prayed for guidance beside the same dear old chair in which
she had so often sat with me. I could not stay here, I felt it was too
sacred a place to be entered now, and with tears in my eyes, that come
again as I write, I reluctantly closed the door and went away.

Later, I visited what had been my own room, finding it much as I had
left it twenty years before. Many of my old school books were here,
but my most precious though worthless possessions I had carefully
placed elsewhere; and now I took them, dust laden, from their places
of concealment. First, a complicated contrivance that when finished
was to have solved the problem of perpetual motion, then a piece of a
wind-mill so arranged as to make a noise when in operation sufficient
to scare the crows from the corn field; going further I came to some
small boxes containing almost everything from a tooth, the first I
remember of having extracted, to a small bunch of very tenderly-worded
notes and a picture of my little twelve-year-old sweetheart. These
experiences were repeated next day when I drove to the old farm my
grandfather had owned during his life-time. Here mother had lived as
a child, a girl, and a young woman, and accompanying me she no doubt
saw many things as dear to her. I, too, had lived here for a time, and
could not leave the place until I had found my “marks” denoting my
height at various times—the first of which was less than three feet. I
also explored the yards and barns. Here many changes had taken place;
even my initials that had been deeply cut in one of the large elm trees
that grow so slowly had become obliterated. This touched me deeply,
seeming so much in keeping with what had in reality occurred to the
name itself; and feeling that I must find one unchanging remembrance,
I went to a huge boulder upon a hill near by, having to cross the
brook with much difficulty that in earlier years had offered no
impediment to the progress of my unclad feet.

Reaching the rock I raised my voice, uttering the same words I had used
as a child, and listened for the echoing answer. It did not come; it,
too, was dead, owing, no doubt, to the woods upon the surrounding hills
having disappeared meantime. Returning I found my brother had come in
answer to my request that he should visit me. He was accompanied by
several sturdy boys whom I had never seen, and in whose faces I could
see my brother and myself of years ago; but when, in conversation, they
spoke to and of their father as “Arthur,” his given name, I could but
wonder if he thought of what would have been our portion had we ever
addressed our parents in like manner. The day before I came away father
told me of what disposition he had made, when he thought me dead, of
the portion of his property that would have belonged to me if I had
lived, and told me that he would rearrange it. This I begged him not
to do, and a good occasion having thus been brought about, I had him
bring from his trunk of private papers the several promissory notes
that he had guaranteed for me years previous, and later had paid, and
after adding the interest, I insisted upon his taking the money so
represented. The next day, after a leave-taking nearly as pathetic and
hard to bear as my meeting had been, I left them. I have seen neither
of them since, nor do I ever expect to do so. Each prison mail delivery
I receive with trembling hands, expecting it to be an announcement of
their death, caused by this great sorrow and shame so cruelly forced
upon them.

The morning following my return to Burlington I visited the post-office
and received my mail. It had been handed to me and I had stepped to
a small desk to open some of it when, glancing toward the delivery
window, I saw what seemed to me to be the entire office force staring
with all wonder at me. I knew instantly that I was in danger, and this
was made more sure to me by the manner in which they at once sought to
dispel this feeling by dispersing from the window. I at once resumed
my reading, for I felt that it would be hazardous to have them know
I was aware of their acts. As soon as I could do so safely I went to
Mrs. Pitezel’s house and told her I had been hastily called to Boston
and New York; that she should remain in Burlington until I should
return or send for her prior to her going to the children. At this
time (when I knew that momentarily there was a possibility of officers
coming to the house for me) she reminded me that the supply of coal
was nearly exhausted and, not wishing to go upon the street to order
more, I accompanied her to the basement and, after removing some of the
decayed boards from the floor of the coal bin, I shoveled together a
considerable quantity of coal that had accumulated there. It was this
circumstance that later, when she was suffering so acutely in Toronto,
she distorted into the statement that she believed I was then preparing
to take her life. The dispatches I had received in my Burlington
mail left no doubt in my mind that detectives were following my
movements, although I could not determine then how they had undermined
my apparently safe plans. Later I found that, by making absolutely
erroneous statements to the Post-Office Department at Washington, they
had been given the right to examine all of a certain line of mail
matter, thus accomplishing their purpose.

Having made these arrangements with Mrs. Pitezel, I left Burlington
Tuesday morning, November 13th, and reached Boston the same evening at
the Adams House. The next day I secured some rooms in a quiet street
for my wife and myself, and proceeded at once to arrange for Mrs.
Pitezel’s departure for Europe. But that evening while writing some
letters at the Parker House, a careless shadower, in his earnestness
to learn their address, allowed me to know that I was being watched.
As in Burlington, I tried not to have it known that I had observed
it, but from that moment I knew I was in their hands. After leaving
the hotel and entering several crowded stores to ascertain the number
and vigilance of my followers, I adopted the only feasible plan I
considered was left open to me. I wrote Mrs. Pitezel a letter, asking
her to meet me upon a certain day at Lowell, Mass., intending to see
her and instruct her as to taking the trip alone. After throwing off
my followers, I sent this letter to Burlington by express, including
tickets and full directions for their journey. I then returned to my
rooms, intending to tell my wife of my threatened trouble and the
causes that had led up to it. I could not do it.

We had been married less than a year, and during that time I had
endeavored to shield her from all annoying influences, and to cause her
such great unhappiness now, until I absolutely knew it was upon me,
was impossible. The next day I was continually shadowed, and finally
returned to my room, and while my wife was absent made a small opening
in the now famous trunk.[8]

I then went to a relative, living in a suburb, intending to ask him
to aid me in making my escape, by means of the trunk, if absolutely
necessary. Here again my courage failed me, when I had visited him,
lest it should involve him in some difficulty, and I returned to my
room resolved to meet whatever was in store for me.

Saturday P. M., November 17th, I left the house intending to send
two letters, if possible. I had proceeded hardly a block when I was
surrounded by four greatly excited men, two of whom said, “We want you,
you are under arrest, and it will be useless for you to try to escape,
as there are four of us.” I said, “I shall make no effort to escape.”
We were near the police headquarters, where I was at once taken into
Inspector Watts’ private office. I knew that no time would be lost in
sending to my room to search my belongings, and I therefore asked that
my wife be called to me, preferring to tell her myself of what was in
store for her. The request was granted, and in a few minutes she was
ushered into the room.

Of this scene I also cannot write. No one was present save Inspector
Watts, and I can never forget or fail to appreciate his efforts to make
it as easy for her—for us both, for that matter—as was possible. Before
she had left me I told her what had brought about my arrest and also
my right name. Only true-hearted, loving wives, who have been made to
suffer in the same way, can know what the blow meant to her. They also
alone can understand her feelings expressed to me in a letter months
afterwards, from which, sacred though it is to me, I quote these words,
“Our idols once shattered, though cherishing the broken fragments as
best we may, can never be the same.” After she had returned to our
rooms I had a long conversation with Inspector Watts, a representative
of the Insurance Company and a Pinkerton detective. I found I had been
arrested upon the charge of stealing horses in Texas; that I was to
be held upon this charge until requisition and other papers could be
obtained from Pennsylvania in order to have me tried in that State
upon the charge of conspiring to defraud the Insurance Company in
Philadelphia. I at once waived the necessity of requisition papers, and
told them I was ready to go with them.

I was then closely questioned regarding the whereabouts of the Pitezel
family, and knowing that Mrs. Pitezel would in a few days be in Lowell
with no one to plan and care for her, and fearing lest she should see
an account of my arrest and become alarmed thereby, I thought it best
to tell them where she was, asking them to meet her upon her arrival.
They thought it best to go to Burlington, and it was there arranged
that they should escort her to Boston, but it was agreed not to place
her under arrest. I told them that Pitezel and the other children were
in the South, not wishing to deviate from Mrs. Pitezel’s understanding
of his condition until I could see her. In my interview with Mr. Perry,
the company’s representative, it was agreed that in consideration of
my aiding them in clearing up the case, that I could depend upon the
company’s influence and aid in selecting a suitable location for a home
for my wife in Philadelphia. That my name, then only known to a few
persons, should be withheld, allowing me to appear before the public as
H. H. Holmes, thus shielding my relatives from disgrace. That I should,
upon reaching Philadelphia, see and talk with Mrs. Pitezel, and plan
for her future, and that my wife should visit me upon my arrival there.
No one of these promises was kept save to obtain a boarding place for
my wife, and that principally that they could use their best endeavors
to so prejudice her against me that she would not care to visit me.

Upon the following Monday evening I started for Philadelphia in company
with Detective Crawford, being chained to him, in fact. Upon this trip
my wife came into the car in which I was traveling to visit me for a
few minutes, and while there saw Mrs. Pitezel and her two children for
the first time in her life—they being then in the same car. Nor had she
even known of the existence of such a family until my arrest in Boston.
She had known of Pitezel in Fort Worth as a man working for me by the
name of Lyman.

Upon reaching Philadelphia I was placed in a darkened cell in the
City Hall, and here, figuratively speaking, the thumb-screws were
applied. I was not allowed to see or hear from my wife, save that
she was seriously ill. Mrs. Pitezel and the two children I knew were
in the same place of confinement, but only by hearing their voices
or the cries of the child, as I was not allowed to speak to them.
After a time I was taken to the photograph department and weighed and
measured, a process which has been too often described for publication
to be of interest, save to say that so scientifically is it done that
a person once placed under the ban in this way has little chance of
ever escaping recognition. Later my photograph was also taken with
what must have been a magical camera, judging from the thousand and
one different reproductions from time to time appearing in print.
Returning to my cell, Superintendent Linden visited me and advised me
to see no attorney, and wishing to retain his good-will, if possible,
I for a time gave heed to this. He also urged me strongly to tell him
Pitezel’s exact location. Upon Friday, October 23d, I was committed to
prison upon the conspiracy charge, but before I went I made a detailed
statement of our attorney’s connection with the case, for I had found
that he had been the cause of my trouble, and was then standing back,
as he had said he should do, relying upon his reputation as a member
of an influential firm of lawyers, to escape trouble himself. What
followed during the next weary months of my life I feel that I can best
express by copying from my prison diary, kept during this time, which
now lies before me. I give such portions as relate more particularly to
my case, stating first, however, that during all my life I had always
been active and had taken much out-of-door exercise, and that on this
account, together with worrying about my wife’s safety, and financial
affairs, it seemed for a time after my imprisonment commenced that I
should die from the effect thereof.


MOYAMENSING PRISON DIARY.

Saturday Evening, November 24, 1894.—A week ago to-day I was placed
under arrest in Boston, and after a preliminary hearing was brought
here to Philadelphia, where I was confined at City Hall police
headquarters. Yester-*day P. M. I was placed in a crowded conveyance
filled with a filthy lot of humanity, and after what seemed to me an
endless drive reached the county prison, located at Tenth and Reed
streets, which is known as Moyamensing. I was assigned to a thoroughly
clean, whitewashed room, about 9 x 14 feet in size, lighted by one very
narrow grated window. The entrance to the room is closed by a small
latticed iron door, beyond which is still another solid door of wood,
which, when closed, excludes nearly all sound, and thus renders the
room practically a place of solitary confinement. A register furnishes
furnace heat, and one sixteen candle power electric burner gives light
during a part of the evening, it being turned off promptly at 9 P. M.
The superintendent of the prison came to my door for a few moments this
morning, and spoke to me of some of the prison rules and regulations.
My attorney, Mr. Shoemaker, also called on me, also assured me that
my wife should see me on Monday, and that she was no longer seriously
ill, to hear which makes my heavy load seem lighter. I have now had
three meals served to me since coming here, and can judge something of
what my food will be if I have to stay here any length of time. For
breakfast a plentiful supply of plain coffee and a quantity of coarse
white bread; at the noon hour a small pail well filled with soup,
thickened with barley and a few beans, and containing a large piece
of beef; at 5 P. M. I was agreeably surprised at receiving a liberal
quantity of cocoa, made, I judge, from cocoa shells—a most healthful
drink for one in such close confinement. This was accompanied by
another piece of bread, which completed the day’s rations. One thing
is certain, even if not a great variety, the quantity is sufficient,
and is cleanly cooked and served.

Sunday, November 25, 1894.—A long, still day, doubly hard to bear,
inasmuch as since my marriage it has, owing to our long talks, reading
and driving, grown to be a day of delight to me. At 3 P. M. the outer
door to my room was opened about four inches in order to admit the
sound of the religious services held at that hour and lasting until 4
o’clock, which consists principally of singing, some of which is quite
good.

November 26, 1894.—My wife came to see me at 9.30 this morning. I had
not been allowed to see her since my arrival in Philadelphia, and
it required all the courage I could command to go to her under such
humiliating circumstances. Our meeting took place in the presence of
one of the prison officials. She has suffered, and though she tried
heroically to keep me from seeing it, it was of no avail; and in a few
minutes to again bid her good-bye and know she was going out into the
world with so heavy a load to bear, caused me more suffering than any
death struggles can ever do. Each day until I know she is safe from
harm and annoyance will be a living death to me. I am promised that
for the present she shall visit me two times a week, each week, not to
exceed fifteen minutes in duration. If she can bear the humiliation of
coming here it will be a Godsend to me, but I shall not urge her to do
so against her will.

Tuesday, November 27, 1894.—My attorney called to see me to-day. He
only is allowed to visit my room and converse with me alone. Our time
was principally occupied in planning to furnish bail for Mrs. Pitezel,
who must be set at liberty at all hazards. I am threatened with arrest
upon the charge of murder, if I give bail myself, which is only another
form of saying that I must stay here until it is their pleasure to
call my case for trial; for if charged with murder, bail would not be
accepted. Had letters sent to Miss Williams. The other two children
are here in Philadelphia, and I am assured are well cared for. Was
agreeably surprised to-day to find that unsentenced prisoners are
allowed to receive eatables, at their own expense, from outside the
prison, and I shall make arrangements to have this brought about. I
also can have all newspapers and periodicals I wish. Money here in the
prison, aside from these uses, is absolutely without value.

November 30, 1894.—My wife came, looking brighter and stronger. This
time a seat was given her outside my door, though a keeper was present
during the entire interview. I can see only too plainly what an effort
it is for her to come into this terrible place, for she sees more of
the prison in passing in and out than I do myself, and to one of her
sensitive nature it is a most trying experience. Was instructed to-day
that, after I have completed several important business letters I am
writing, I must restrict all of my correspondence to one letter a week.
All mail is inspected in the prison office. I think my weight is twenty
pounds less than at time of my arrest; but I am getting more used to my
unnatural surroundings and to my bed of straw, and am sleeping better.
The great humiliation of feeling that I am a prisoner is killing me far
more than any other discomforts I have to endure. I notice quite a
difference, however, between my wooden stool and a comfortable office
or rocking-chair, but still feel that I have much to be thankful for,
as thus far I have been allowed to wear my own clothing and to keep my
watch and other small belongings. The escape from wearing the convict
garb I greatly appreciate.

December 3, 1894.—I have commenced to write a careful and truthful
account of all matters pertaining to my case, including the fact that
Pitezel is dead and that the children are with Miss Williams, and as
soon as I have completed it I shall ask my attorney to place it in the
hands of the authorities that they may verify what I have written.

I feel that I could very easily have carried out the statements I made
relative to his being alive and the substitution of a body if there was
anything to be gained by it, but Mrs. Pitezel, at all events, should
know of it before the children return, lest the question arise as to
where he was, and give occasion for the prosecution to feel that other
motives than this had caused me to conceal the true state of affairs.

December 25, 1894—Christmas. I shall receive no presents, and caused
only a few flowers to be sent to ——, as I feel that any reminder of a
year ago to-day would make it harder for her to bear. Nor will I trust
myself to write at length to-night. I did not have a dinner sent in
to-day. To-morrow will also be another sad anniversary, and a day hard
to bear.

January 1, 1895.—The New Year. I have been busy nearly all day in
prison formulating a methodical plan for my daily life while in prison,
to which I shall hereafter rigidly adhere, for the terrible solitude of
these dark winter days will otherwise soon break me down. I shall rise
at 6.30, and after taking my usual sponge bath shall clean my room and
arrange it for the day. My meal hours shall be 7.30 A. M., 12, and 5
and 9 P. M. I shall eat no more meat of any kind while I am so closely
confined. Until 10 A. M. all the time not otherwise disposed of shall
be devoted to exercise and reading the morning papers. From 10 to 12
and 2 to 4, six days in the week, I shall confine myself to my old
medical works and other college studies, including stenography, French
and German, the balance of my day shall be taken up with reading the
periodicals and library books with which —— keeps me well supplied. I
shall retire at 9 P. M. and shall as soon as possible force myself into
the habit of sleeping throughout the entire night. Received a most kind
and tender letter from my wife, filled with encouraging words. But each
day seems to make it harder to bear.

January 9th.—We have abandoned for the time being all hopes
of procuring Mrs. Pitezel her liberty. The insurance company,
misconstruing our motives, are determined to keep her under their
control. Efforts are being made to keep me from making satisfactory
settlements of my business matters, as well as trying to induce my wife
to abandon me. Came across these two lines in my reading to-day:—

  “I only know the sky has lost its blue,
   The days are weary and the night is drear.”

They so thoroughly described my own condition that I cannot refrain
from copying them to-night.

January 25th.—Had a long, quiet talk with my wife at City Hall to-day,
where I had been taken to be interviewed by the authorities. I feel
better and stronger to-night than for many days. Caused advertisement
to be sent to Miss Williams, and also sent out a large number of
business letters, there being no restriction against doing so while
there.

In February Mr. Shoemaker started West and South to settle up my
business matters for me; I expect him to be absent fully two weeks.
Owing to the interference of the insurance company, property that I
would have refused $50,000 for three months ago, some of which I would
not have sold at all, will have to be sacrificed, so that not more than
one-half that sum will be realized for it.

March 1st.—Commenced to-day to arrange for my trial. Mr. S. P. Rotan is
to act with Mr. Shoemaker as associate counsel. Thus far I have devoted
but little time to this work, but shall now give my 10 to 12 study hour
to it each day.

March 11th.—Read Trilby, and was much pleased with parts of it. My wife
also brought me some very nice flowers, speaking so strongly to me of
our former life that I have had to put them from my sight.

March 23d.—The days are fast lengthening; the sun shone into my room
for a few minutes to-day for the first time since I came here.

May 16th.—My birthday. Am 34 years old. I wonder if, as in former
years, mother will write me. Was at the City Hall and pleaded with the
Assistant District Attorney again that my present case be abandoned and
that I be at once tried upon the charge of killing Pitezel, as I feel
that I cannot too soon have this matter settled, inasmuch as they so
boldly accuse me of it. This they flatly refused to do, saying I only
wished to avoid serving a sentence upon the minor charge. Then the only
satisfaction I could obtain when I urged that the conspiracy charge be
tried at once in order that Mrs. Pitezel may be set at liberty was,
“Don’t you worry yourself about Mrs. Pitezel; we will care for her and
will also give you all you want to do before we are through with you.”
Have retained Mr. R. O. Moon as special counsel.

May 21st.—My case was called in Court to-day, and I entered a formal
plea of “not guilty.” The trial was postponed until a later date. On
Monday, May 27th, my case was called for trial. I went to the City
Hall, where the Court was held, in the same kind of conveyance that
had brought me here over six months before, and was conducted by two
officers into the Court room, and placed in a small enclosure in the
centre of the room. After a little delay, the Court was called to
order, Judge Hare presiding. Little time was lost in securing a jury,
as those first called, almost without exception, appeared to be both
intelligent and honest. After administering the oaths, the District
Attorney arose and addressed the Court. Theretofore I had not looked
upon my case as serious, for after I had placed before the authorities
my written statement, some months earlier, stating that Pitezel was
actually dead, some of the prosecution and the insurance company had
openly stated that they believed it to be true, and knowing myself
that his death had actually occurred, it left little, save the charge
of conspiracy, to be disposed of; but when the prosecution drew into
the case matters altogether foreign to the conspiracy charges, I felt
that it could not help but influence the jury. The authorities had
also brought Mrs. Pitezel into Court, and had seated her in a prominent
portion of the room, and later, while giving his testimony, one of
the witnesses led the Court to understand that with a knife I had
proceeded, in a cold-blooded manner, to mutilate the body of Pitezel at
the time of examination for the purpose of identification. I saw that
the prosecution were determined to magnify and dilate each point that
could be turned in their favor.

During the afternoon session I learned that a subpœna had been
issued requiring my wife to appear in Court, contrary to a distinct
arrangement that I had previously made with the insurance company that
she should not be used as a witness or annoyed in regard to the case,
and I felt that I would rather serve a longer term of imprisonment than
thus humiliate her. At the close of the Court for the day I learned
that the prosecution were prepared to place upon the witness stand
the doctors before referred to, who had seen the body at Callowhill
street, both of whom would swear the body found there could not have
been Pitezel, a matter I could not disprove, and that evening, after
considering all the proceedings of the day, I resolved to ask my
counsel to allow me to change my plea, relying upon them to show the
Court when I should, at a later date, be brought before the Judge to
be sentenced, that while there had existed an agreement to perpetrate
a fraud under certain circumstances, there was no active conspiracy at
the time when Pitezel’s death had occurred, and that the death being
genuine, the insurance company had not been defrauded. This, together
with the fact that I should save at least a week’s valuable time to
the Court by ending my trial as I did, I hoped would cause the Judge
to reduce my sentence to one-half the fullest extent, thus allowing me
to go to Texas in October, 1895, which would be in season to attend
to my business matters there before they would seriously suffer from
the delay. Before leaving the Court the Judge stated that I should be
allowed the six months I had already been in prison, which I could not
but appreciate, as it was wholly discretionary with him. Later during
the day I was called before the District Attorney, in his private
office, and there made a statement as to the probable whereabouts of
the children, telling them as truthfully as I knew all the facts I
could think of that would aid them in the search, and later gave them
the cipher I had formerly used in communicating with Miss Williams. I
then returned to my prison room at Moyamensing.

Upon the 18th of June I was taken to the Court House as a witness in
the case against Howe; but a long continuance being taken, I was not
called upon to testify. Shortly thereafter one of my attorneys, after
careful preparation, went to London, and did considerable hard work
for me in endeavoring to locate the missing children by searching for
the old addresses given me by Hatch; and the assertion made by the
Assistant District Attorney that I had deceived my counsel and sent him
upon a search I knew to be useless, is simply one of many statements
he has made both to me and for publication that are painful evidence
of the want of discernment and good judgment one had a right to expect
from the occupant of so important a position.

Later in June Detective Guyer called on me, and, in a long conversation
with him, I made a most honest endeavor to place him in possession
of all the facts I could think of that would be instrumental in
facilitating the proposed search, which I looked upon and welcomed as
one of corroboration of the same statements I had previously made,
feeling that upon his following my movements from place to place, and
finding that I had not misled him in any way, he would return more
free to believe other statements that were not so easily verified; and
I do not think I need to state to any intelligent reader that had I
known of the death and burial of the little ones in the Toronto cellar,
and wished to conceal the same, I should have avoided all mention of
other houses where furniture had been brought and, in one instance,
an excavation made, and I feel that if Mr. Guyer were called upon for
a truthful statement, he could not fail to say that but for my aid,
freely given him at this time, together with detailed statements and
drawings previously made relating to those places where I had forgotten
the exact location, his search would have been a failure, inasmuch as
he would have had no incentive to prosecute a similar investigation in
Toronto.

On the morning of the 16th of July, my newspaper was delivered to me
at about 8.30 A. M., and I had hardly opened it before I saw in large
headlines the announcement of the finding of the children in Toronto.
For the moment it seemed so impossible, that I was inclined to think it
one of the frequent newspaper excitements that had attended the earlier
part of the case, but, in attempting to quickly gain some accurate
comprehension of what was stated in the article, I became convinced
that at least certain bodies had been found there, and upon comparing
the date when the house was hired I knew it to be the same as when the
children had been in Toronto; and thus being forced to realize the
awfulness of what had probably happened, I gave up trying to read the
article, and saw instead the two little faces as they had looked when I
hurriedly left them—felt the innocent child’s kiss so timidly given and
heard again their earnest words of farewell, and I realized that I had
received another burden to carry to my grave with me, equal, if not
worse, than the horrors of Nannie Williams’ death.

I think at this time I should have lost my senses utterly had I not
been hurriedly called to prepare to be taken to the District Attorney’s
office. I went there securely handcuffed and accompanied by two
officers for further safety, and not until these extra precautions
were taken did I realize the new and terrible change that had occurred
affecting the entire aspect of my case. Upon reaching the City Hall the
Assistant District Attorney met me. I was in no condition to bear his
accusations, nor disposed to answer many of his questions. I felt it
right that he should know that I had already seen the morning papers,
and upon his demanding that I tell him where the body of the boy could
be found, I answered, that in the light of the Toronto development,
I had reason to think he would be found buried in or about the house
that had been hired in Detroit. He then accused me of killing him in
Detroit and destroying his body by burning it in a furnace that was in
the cellar. This I denied, and moreover felt sure and told him that the
body could not have been destroyed there in that way by any one else,
as I had been in the house upon two occasions and knew that if human
remains had been cremated there even at a considerably earlier date the
odor would have been noticeable. I did not see the District Attorney at
this interview and was very soon taken to the prison again.

For the next forty-eight hours I reasoned and thought, studying
minutely each step of our journey from the time Hatch had joined us;
but what seemed utterly incomprehensible to me then, and even now, was
how any sane man would take such awful chances, even if he had no other
scruples to restrain him, yet I well knew it could have been no one
else that committed the crime, for in that event the non-arrival of
the children would have been known to us. I knew also that the small
sum of $400, that was given to the girls just previous to their death,
could have been no incentive for the commission of the act, and was
forced to look further for the motive. I could only think that it had
been done at Miss Williams’ suggestion and in furtherance of her threat
of the previous year, which, owing to friendliness at a later date, I
had believed wholly abandoned, probably also intending to give color
to a theory (if later for her safety such had to be advanced) that I,
and not she, had killed her sister, pointing to these disappearances
that had occurred at a time when I was known to have had the children
in my charge as corroborative of the same, though I felt sure that her
hellish wish for vengeance for the imagined desertion of the previous
year was much the more potent of the two motives.

Finally I commenced at the time I had first asked them to come here,
and following carefully each step and conversation we had held, I
became certain that when Hatch had first met me in Cincinnati he could
have had no matured plans. Then going over our route I could see no
change until after reaching Indiana. He had gone away for a few days
to Chicago, as he then said, but, as I now believe, to Detroit, to
consult with Miss Williams, as it occurred directly after he had first
known I was liable to be arrested. He then commenced taking more
interest in the children, taking them about with him and buying them
presents. It was at this time, also, that he took a private room,
saying that inasmuch as I was liable to be watched, it was unsafe for
any of us to be at a hotel. It was then that he had his beard removed
from his chin[9] in the barber shop at the Indianapolis depot, each
act being a trifle in itself, yet taken together showed to me that
then was when the change had commenced. Following still further, I had
at first wished to go to Chicago alone, thinking it safer to do so
than to be accompanied by the children. I had asked him to take them
all to Detroit with him, to which he replied that if this was done it
would keep him from looking about for a house there for Mrs. Pitezel,
which we were anxious to obtain as quickly as possible; that he could
take the boy with him easily, for he could accompany him about the
city in his search. This, together with the girls’ desire to go to
Chicago, led me to carry out the arrangement in this way. Then came
our arrival in Detroit, two days later, when Hatch stated that the boy
had gone with Miss Williams to Buffalo, and that he had been delayed
twenty-four hours _en route_ to Detroit at some junction where a wreck
had occurred, thus accounting for his having made no search for a house.

Then of another circumstance, which ordinarily I should not have
considered more than a coincidence. While in Cincinnati, Alice and
the boy had disputed as to which should wear an old watch that had
belonged to their father. Alice advancing her claim of superior
years, Howard, that he was the boy of the family, accompanied by the
remembrance that his father had promised it to him when he grew older.
I settled the matter by taking the watch in charge and buying each
of them a small nickel open-faced watch and chain. This left little
Nellie with a broken heart, and as soon as I noticed her trouble, I
told her that before our journey was ended I would also buy one for
her, or something else equally pleasing to her, if she preferred. The
day after our arrival in Detroit she came to me much elated, saying
Mr. Hatch had bought her a watch. Upon looking at it, it proved to be
of the same make and design as the one Alice had, and I now believe
it was the same watch I had given Howard some days before. Then in
Detroit occurred the buying of the spade and his insisting upon taking
it to Toronto, giving the weak excuse that he had paid for it and did
not wish to throw it away, when he could have sold it at a second-hand
store much easier than to have taken it so far to the depot to place it
in the trunk. Then, the letter from Miss Williams, asking that I pay
the $1,000 due upon the Fort Worth property then, instead of later, as
she wished to use a part of it; it seeming hardly probable, if this had
been the real reason of requiring the money at that time, that so much
trouble would have been taken in trying to convert the money I gave
into a $1,000 bill.

The only other circumstance I could then think of was his almost
querulous objection to my buying a jacket in Detroit for one of the
girls, and later heavier clothing in Toronto, he saying that Miss
Williams could better understand their needs, and his efforts to borrow
$500 from me in Burlington, and also that Alice had told me in Toronto
that Mr. Hatch had given her a letter or a postal card to write for
him, as he had no writing materials at his room. I asked her what it
was about, and she answered, as near as I can remember, that it was to
a Mr. Cooke about a house that he did not need longer and about a sale
of furniture or that it had been sold. If I thought sufficiently of
the matter at the time, I supposed it referred to the Detroit house,
as this was the only one I had reason to think he had engaged, and I
think it will be later found that at Logansport or Peru, or some other
junction town in Indiana, a house was hired upon October 10th or 11th,
while I was in Chicago, and the body of the boy shipped from the hotel
in Indianapolis in accordance with the report that a large trunk was
that day shipped to an unknown destination, and the remains buried
similarly to the Toronto case, and that this was the true cause of his
delay in reaching Detroit.

Some days later I told the authorities that such was my belief, giving
them my reasons for thinking so, and for my pains I was severely taken
to task for having previously stated that I thought he would be found
in or about the Detroit house. From this I have been characterized by
them as a supreme falsifier.

With the one exception of the statements made at the time of my arrest,
and adhered to until I knew Mrs. Pitezel could be no longer saved from
worriment by so doing, I know of no material misstatements made, save
that the children were in England, which I most honestly believed to be
true.

The next day I saw an account in the papers of my wife’s coming here in
answer to a telegram from the District Attorney’s office. This said to
me far more than was printed in the paper. I knew she must have been
intimidated to have come at this time and in answer to a summons from
them. My fears were confirmed a few days later when I learned from a
trusted source that such was the case, and that the threat had been
made that if she made any effort to see or communicate with me she
would be arrested and held as a witness. (It will here be remembered
that our prison interviews were invariably held in the presence of
a keeper.) And upon the other hand if she remained away from me and
aided them, all her expenses would be paid by the prosecution or the
insurance company.

I knew that the latter would have no weight with her, but I feared that
the threats they made would cause her to worry until she became ill,
and I therefore felt justified in resorting to almost any means to see
her and try and quiet her fears. With this in view I wrote the District
Attorney that if I could have an interview with him, my wife being
present, I would endeavor to make it plain to him where they could
expect to find the remains of the boy. This interview was promptly
accorded me and, upon being taken into his private office, I met my
wife, and it needed but one glance to know what she had been and was
then suffering, which caused a feeling of almost uncontrollable anger
to take possession of me, both towards the authorities for unjustly
causing her hard lot to be made worse, and towards myself that for the
sake of business gains I had ever allowed myself to enter into the
petty transactions that had been the cause of all her troubles. My
first inquiry, as could naturally be expected, was as to her physical
condition and if she was in comfortable quarters and free from actual
restraint. I also told her that until the world at large ceased to look
upon me as a murderer I should not in the presence of others greet
her as was my usual custom. If at this time my wife shrank from me as
though in fear, as was given out from the District Attorney’s office
for publication, I, in my blindness, did not see it, and in the days
and nights that followed until I again heard of her welfare almost
my only source of comfort was the remembrance of the few kind words
she had said, and, what was even more to me, that she had worn both
her engagement and her wedding rings, and as many of the gifts I had
presented to her during our happier days as she could without exciting
undue notice, choosing those that would convey to me from their
associations the kind thoughts she knew she would have no opportunity
to say in words.

This was particularly plain to me, inasmuch as it was wholly contrary
to her usual custom to appear thus attired at that early hour of the
day, and in so public a place, and until she tells me that such is
not the case I shall hold to the belief that she is yet loyal to me.
There were present at this meeting, beside the District Attorney,
Mr. Shoemaker and Supt. Linden, and for a part of the time Mr. Fouse
and the Assistant District Attorney. I endeavored to state to them,
in as few words as possible, the circumstances of Hatch’s delay of
twenty-four hours, and the letters sent from either Detroit or Toronto
about a house. They at once branded my statements concerning Hatch as
untrue, and said that he was a mythical person, asking me to name any
one who had ever seen him. In reply I said, “I do not consider that
you have any more grounds for doubting the fact that he was at these
places than to doubt that Mrs. Pitezel or these children were there,
because they did not happen to meet. However, you need not rely upon my
statements.”

Last November or December Mr. Perry, a representative of the insurance
company, came to the prison, in company with another witness, to
question me about some other matters pertaining to the case, and while
there said to me, “Who was the man you met at the Burlington depot you
seemed so surprised to see, and immediately went to the telegraph
office and took up a message you had previously written?”

I told him it was a man named Hatch, a friend of Miss Williams, who
was not connected with my case in any important way. I also stated
in further answer to the District Attorney’s question that I felt
sure that the barber in the Indianapolis depot would remember his
coming there with me, it being so unusual an occurrence for me to be
accompanied by any one; that the proprietor or clerk of the small hotel
where he had taken the children upon their arrival in Detroit would
remember him, and probably the woman where they boarded during most of
their stay in that city, as he accompanied them to the train the day
following my departure for Toronto. That Mrs. Pitezel will remember
his calling at her house at Burlington, and upon her going to the door
he made some trivial excuse and went away, having expected to meet me
there. And that my wife will remember my leaving her upon the steamboat
landing at B. for a moment to step across to the depot to speak to him,
and upon two subsequent occasions while in that city of recognizing
him upon the street, she remarking upon my knowing any one there, and
parties who have lately testified that they knew of my visiting Miss
Williams in New York in 1888, and later in Denver, will know that it
was Hatch and not myself, as I never was in Denver until January, 1894,
and never saw Miss Williams prior to January, 1893.

“Call him Hatch, Jones, or Smith, if you will, but you have known for
months that there was such a person at certain places during the trip
with whom I communicated, and with whom I was seen, and whose existence
you cannot now ignore.”

I then tried to explain to them that for want of time alone, even if I
were the bloodthirsty villain they were inclined to make me appear, I
could not be guilty of the Toronto murders, and begged them to allow me
to go there before by any chance evidence that could now be obtained
should become unavailable to me. To this the District Attorney replied,
“I shall not do it; I shall try you here.” What more could be said?
If a man as broad-minded as I knew the District Attorney to be, both
from common report and from my own observation, would not consider so
important a statement, what could I expect from others having a less
thorough knowledge of the case? I was much disappointed, both at not
being allowed to go there, and at the harsh and unjust way he looked
upon the matter, and the feeling was increased a few minutes later when
I asked to be allowed to provide for my wife’s support while here, by
having him tell me that he did not consider it any part of my business
at the present time to either know of or care for her welfare; and some
weeks later by his refusing to allow my relatives and business agent
to visit me at the prison, and by a number of trivial matters like
withholding my newspaper and intercepting and keeping letters that,
after reading, he could see did not pertain to, and could not influence
my case in any way, saying that if I were given hardships enough and
kept long enough away from others, I would confess these crimes.
Feeling it was useless to prolong the interview, and noticing that my
wife was suffering intensely, I brought it to a close as quickly as
possible. I bade her good-bye and was again handcuffed and taken to
prison.

During the previous days the part of the Toronto matters that had
seemed the most unaccountable to me was how Hatch could have returned
to the depot so soon after I had left both him and the children upon
the train, and what excuse he could have given to them to forego their
journey. This information my interview had supplied. In questioning me,
Superintendent Linden had said, “Who was that light young man standing
upon the corner of the street near the house where the children were
killed, that you spoke with at some length and then went away to hire
an expressman?” I hesitated in my answer to him, and finally told him
that I had not met any one there, but if he knew that such a meeting
had taken place it was of the most vital importance to my case. There
had instantly come into my mind when he had asked this question a
remembrance of two years previous, but owing to their scoffs at the
possibility of Hatch’s existence, I felt it wise to refrain from
speaking of it to him until I could hear from those by whom I could
prove the statement I would have liked to have made at the time.

One day in the spring of ‘93, soon after Miss Williams’ trunks,
containing her theatrical costumes, had been brought to our rooms in
the block in Chicago, returning from the city one afternoon, I met
upon the stairway leading to my office a jauntily dressed young man,
whom, as I passed, I asked to cease smoking his cigarette within the
building, and a few minutes later was being saucily laughed at in my
office by Miss Williams. So clever had the deception been, both in
clothing and change in facial expression by aid of her color box, that
upon her wishing to do so, I allowed her to accompany me upon a trip to
Aurora, Ill., and later to St. Joseph, Mich., costumed in this manner.
That both of these trips, made under these circumstances, actually
occurred, I am able to prove by competent and disinterested persons,
and I feel sure that Miss Williams was in Toronto, probably meeting the
children at Hamilton, and returning with them, and keeping one with
her while the other was killed; and next day, while I must necessarily
have been hundreds of miles away, inasmuch as I registered at Prescott
at 4 P. M., she, if any one, met Hatch near this house, disguised in
this manner. On August 15th, Mr. Cops, a Fort Worth attorney, obtained
permission of the District Attorney to interview me, and, after
questioning me for a time, said he would like to tell me his theory of
how I had killed my Chicago victims, which was that while they were in
my office I had in some way induced them to step inside the vault and
then caused their death by suffocation. He said, “Why, Holmes, it is
the plainest case I ever heard of, even the footprints of one of them
are to be seen upon the door, where in their desperation they had tried
to make their escape.”

I asked him when he believed the last of these deaths had occurred
there. He replied, “Probably in July, 1893. In fact, if you could
show me that Minnie Williams was alive after that date, I would be
much inclined to believe that she was alive now and that she killed
her sister, as you say, for, if alive, only that could have been a
sufficient motive to induce her to conceal her whereabouts for so
long from her Texas friends.” I said, “Will you grant me that I am
not guilty of taking life there since I left Chicago about January 1,
1894, for Texas.” He replied, “Yes, I think that would be safe from
the evidence I have gathered in Chicago.” I said, “In August, 1893,
a fire occurred in the building, causing the destruction of many
valuable letters and papers, and upon the building being repaired I
bought this vault, in October or November, 1893, from a safe and vault
company whose offices were one block west of La Salle street, between
Madison and Adams, in Chicago. The purchase was made in the name of the
Campbell-Yates Company, and in December, 1893, it was put in place and
plastered by a workman named Kriss.

“A very few days thereafter I left Chicago and have never been in the
rooms since. There was never any other vault in the building, save one
upon the first floor that for years had been under the entire control
of tenants occupying the drug and jewelry store in which it is located.
I cannot give you the name or exact address of this company, but it
is plainly printed upon the door of the vault, and upon your return
to Chicago, if you care to do so, you can satisfy yourself of the
truthfulness of my statement regarding it.” He said, “Until I can do
this I cannot believe it to be true, but if I do find that such is the
case I shall be inclined to return to Fort Worth and abandon my case,
and upon the strength of what you have told me, I will say to you that
I have lately learned that there has been found at Fort Worth among
mail that was sent to you after you left that city, a London letter
from Miss Williams, but being so sure in my own mind that she died
nearly a year previous to that time, I have supposed it to be a clever
forgery sent there by you to mislead those who found it.” I told him
that Miss Williams had sent me three letters there which were forwarded
by Mr. John L. Judd, my Denver agent, 1609 Lawrence street, that city,
to whom he could write to or visit to corroborate my statement. That
two of these letters I had received and had supposed the other had been
sent to the Dead Letter Office and destroyed; that if he would take
the letter to Mr. —— and others in Fort Worth, who knew her writing,
they would at once tell him it was not a forgery. A few days later
I heard of the explosion and fire at the block in Chicago, and felt,
as has lately been the case whenever I hear of any loss of life,
strange disappearances or other misdemeanors not easily accounted for,
throughout the United States—anywhere in the world in fact—almost
thankful that the strong doors of my prison room make it impossible for
such acts to now be ascribed to me.


                         OTHER DISAPPEARANCES.

A Miss Van Tassand to the best of my knowledge I never saw. Certain it
is that I hired no fruit store in Chicago, nor did I have a person of
that name in my employ at any time.

A Mrs. Lee, said to have disappeared some time in 1893, I do not know
of ever having seen.

Cora Quinlin is said by the newspapers to be alive. No insurance of any
kind was ever caused to be placed upon the life of this child by me nor
did I know that such had been placed by others.

A Miss Cigrand was sent to me by the National Typewriter Exchange in
Chicago in May, 1892. She worked faithfully in my interests until
November, 1892, when, much against my wishes, she left my employ to
be married, as I understood at the time. Some days after going away
she returned for her mail, and at this time gave me one of her wedding
cards, and also two or three others for tenants in the building who
were not then in their rooms; and in response to inquiries lately made
I have learned that at least five persons in and about Lafayette,
Ind., received such cards, the post mark and her handwriting upon the
envelope in which they were enclosed showing that she must have sent
them herself after leaving my employ. While working for me she had
also acted as the secretary of the Campbell-Yates Co., a corporation
in which I was interested; and in 1893 certain papers relating to
the business of this company that had been overlooked required her
signature, and after considerable delay she came to the office in
November, which was about one year after she left my employ. She
accompanied me to lunch at Thompson’s restaurant, where I had eaten
regularly for years, and where during the previous year she had often
eaten with me. Here the man known as Henry, who for a long time has
been head usher in this establishment and knew us both well, remarked
to her, as he gave us our seats, “It is a long time since you were
here.” She replied, “About one year.” A few days later she met me
elsewhere in Chicago, at which time Arthur S. Kirk, a member of the
well-known soap manufacturers, Kirk & Co., and two employees were
present, and upon my recalling to Mr. Kirk’s memory certain business
transactions I had with him at about this time, he, as well as his
employees, will remember the circumstances, and be able to fix the
exact date and give an accurate description of Miss Cigrand.

Before leaving Chicago, she expressed a desire to re-enter my employ,
stating that unless more kindly treated she should not longer live with
her husband, but should either return to office work or re-enter the
convent, where she had been educated, or some other similar institution.

She also told me that she had written her people, but should not visit
them until she could give them financial aid, as she had been in the
habit of doing before her marriage, and I think she will let me know
her location and present name before I am made to suffer for her
disappearance.

Miss Mary and Miss Kate Dunkee are both acknowledged by the
Philadelphia authorities to be alive. Charles Cole is also known to be
alive.

The Redman family, the child or its abductress, I never saw, and know
nothing of the case save from the accounts published at the time.

Robert Latimer, a former janitor, a Mr. Brummager, once in my employ as
a stenographer, also a Miss Mary Horacamp, from Hamilton, Canada, are
alive, as shown by letters recently received from friends or relatives
of each.

Miss Anna Betz, formerly of Englewood, Ill., whose death I have been so
persistently charged with during the past year, the claims being made
that it had been caused by a criminal operation performed by me at the
instigation of ——, of Chicago, for which I received a release of the
sum of $2,500 that I owed him, I was but little acquainted with, and if
her death was occasioned in such a manner I certainly am not the cause
of it, and checks given upon my order by F. W. Devoe & Co., of New
York, will show when and how my indebtedness to Mr. —— was canceled.

The same charge concerning a domestic named Lizzie is untrue, although
I have no means of verifying it save that it has been proven that she
was alive and in Chicago some months after I left that city, early in
1894.


                     PHOTOGRAPHIC IDENTIFICATIONS.

In 1883 there were conducted within my knowledge a series of
experiments illustrative of the unreliability of photographic
identifications, and other similar experiments have often been made.
These consisted in calling upon ten students who had witnessed two
skillful sign writers executing some work upon a street window to
later identify them from photographs. An open album was first handed
to the student who was told to choose which one of two pictures before
him was the party in question, they all made a prompt decision as to
one or the other being the person they had seen, the fact being that
neither of the pictures were of these men. To another group of ten
that had also seen the painters under like circumstances was given
a frame containing forty photographs, they being instructed that the
picture of one of the men they had seen was among the number. Only one
chose the right picture, and none looked for or found more than one,
although without their knowledge pictures of both were plainly before
them in the group. The result of the entire number of experiments was
that over 95 per cent. failed in their efforts at identification. In
my own case by means of pictures, a man in Milwaukee is or was ready
to make oath that I was in that city, accompanied by the two children,
at a time when the Philadelphia authorities know we were elsewhere. A
woman in Chicago is equally positive that I was several days at her
boarding house with Miss Williams and the two children, at a time when
the authorities know I was in Cincinnati, Ohio. In the same manner
two Detroit parties are ready to swear that Miss Williams was in that
city, accompanied by a man answering my description of Hatch, at a time
when I know he was with me in Indianapolis. In all these instances,
and in the Toronto identifications, I believe that the parties have
been honest in the statements made, but it must be remembered that they
have been led to understand that no other decision was possible. A good
example of the methods employed was furnished some months ago when at
police headquarters here. I was taken before some twenty or thirty
people by a detective who, when near enough for them to hear, said,
“Mr. Holmes, these people are witnesses in the case for which you are
to be tried here, and I wish to see if they can identify you.”


                               MOTIVES.

Had my early life and associations been such as to predispose me
towards such criminal proceedings, still the want of motive remains.
I can show that no motive did exist. Those who knew me personally can
see that it could not have been avarice, for whenever I possessed even
a small surplus of ready money, those whom I was owing or friends in
need of same could always receive the most or all I possessed. Any
ungovernable temper is excluded, for I do not possess it. Appetence
cannot be ascribed as a motive, age and other circumstances to a great
extent excluding same. The principal motive thus far ascribed, namely,
that I had first involved my alleged victims in, or made them parties
to, dishonest transactions can be excluded, from the fact that all such
transactions are matters of recent date, and almost without exception
they are found to have done nothing criminal. Either one of the
foregoing I should prefer having my supposed shortcomings attributed
to than the only remaining motive I can think of, namely, insanity, to
which, either hereditary or acquired, I can plead not guilty, and be
substantiated in so doing by a sufficient number of medical experts,
whose testimony cannot be lightly overlooked.

Of the three more important cases, first that of the Williams sisters.
Nannie Williams was wholly without means. The following account will
show that had I given Hatch the $500 he wished to borrow of me in
Burlington, there would have been little due Nannie Williams; nothing
in fact, if I had included various small sums paid her from time to
time, of which no account was kept. It should also be borne in mind
that she still holds the title to the $10,000 Wilmette property, which,
on this account, is valueless to me.

                      RECEIVED OF M. R. WILLIAMS.

  April, 1893, Cash,            $2,500
  April, 1893, Real Estate,      7,000
  August, 1894, Cash,              600
                                 —————  $10,100

                         PAID M. R. WILLIAMS.

  May, 1893, Cash,              $2,500
  July, 1893, Cash,              1,000
  December, 1893, Cash,            750
  January, 1894, Fort Worth
    Incumbrance,                 1,725
  February, 1894, Cash,          1,750
  October, 1894, Cash,           1,000
  October, 1894, Cash,             412
                                 —————   $9,137
                                          —————
                                           $963

Shown by cashed drafts and checks endorsed by M. Williams, and other
forms of evidence.

In the case of Benj. F. Pitezel, the motive is said to have been the
money to be derived from his insurance, and more than this from his
Texas real-estate holdings. In regard to the former, I can only
reiterate that he was worth more to me each year he lived than the
amount he was insured for, and each year he was becoming more valuable
to me; therefore, why should I take his life? His real estate was not
of one dollar’s value to him, and could only be of value to me after he
had signed certain papers, the want of which I felt within thirty days
after his death. This is also true of his patents and other belongings.
The claim that I designed to kill the six other members of the Pitezel
family to avoid being held accountable for the small sum of $5,200,
seems too unlikely a motive to call for a denial, and, excluding this,
it will be hard to find another, when the care and attention I have
given them for years is considered.

In conclusion, I wish to say that I am but a very ordinary man, even
below the average in physical strength and mental ability, and to have
planned and executed the stupendous amount of wrong-doing that has been
attributed to me would have been wholly beyond my power, and even had I
been able to have performed it, a still greater task would have been
the successful elaboration of a story at the time of my arrest that, if
untrue, would have provided for the many exigencies that at that time I
could not have known would have occurred later in the case; and I feel
justified in asking from the general public a suspension of judgment
as to my guilt or innocence, not while the various charges can be
proven against me, but while I can disprove them, a task which I feel
able to satisfactorily and expeditiously accomplish. And here I cannot
say finis—it is not the end—for besides doing this there is also the
work of bringing to justice those for whose wrong-doings I am to-day
suffering, and this not to prolong or save my own life, for since the
day I heard of the Toronto horror I have not cared to live; but that to
those who have looked up to and honored me in the past it shall not in
the future be said that I suffered the ignominious death of a murderer.


                              FOOTNOTES:

  [1] The name he had assumed for the purpose of aiding me to organize
      our company.

  [2] Mrs. Pitezel’s initials.

  [3] Before going to Denver when he had felt so sure of carrying out
      the plan, I afterwards learned that he had spoken to one of his
      family about his sudden disappearance at any time not
      necessitating them to worry.

  [4] At the time referred to a daily paper had stated that these
      lawyers were to act as my attorneys, and upon Pitezel’s calling
      upon them, they had given him this card, and also directed him to
      the attorney they had recommended to me in the same street.

  [5] The claim so persistently advanced that this note was a forgery
      is untrue; it was still in existence a short time ago, and if the
      prosecution will produce it the signature can speak for itself.

  [6] In any instance, when not registering under my own name, my
      handwriting will substantiate my statements.

  [7] At the risk of being tedious, I have entered into a minute
      description of our stay while in Toronto, especially as it applies
      to Saturday, the 19th, and Thursday, the 25th of October, as they
      seem vital dates in the case.

  [8] The tacks used later to replace the portion removed were taken
      from the carpet in the room, and have been compared with those
      still there to make good my statement that here was where the
      mutilation of the trunk occurred.

  [9] In answer to a recent question from the authorities, if, after
      Hatch had thus changed his appearance, he looked like myself, I
      answer, No, at least not to a sufficient extent to be mistaken for
      me by one who knew us both.


                         Transcriber’s Notes:

 - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
 - Blank pages have been removed.
 - Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.