Part 3 (1/2)
It was five o'clock in the morning when the train drew up at Island Pond. On the platform stood Robert Pinkerton, carrying a requisition from the governor of Pennsylvania on the governor of Vermont for the arrest of Donahue, Collins, and Proctor, charged with robbing the United States Express Company of forty thousand dollars, at Susquehanna, Pennsylvania. The first man to leave the train was the ”shadow,” who informed his chief that Proctor was sound asleep in berth No. 12. Donahue and Collins, he said, had left the train long before it reached the last station on the Canadian side, so that the plan for their capture had fallen through. Mr. Pinkerton went aboard the sleeper at once, and going to berth No. 12, pushed aside the curtains. He could not see distinctly for the darkness, but borrowing a lantern from one of the trainmen, let the light fall on the face of the person within, and saw it was Proctor, slumbering in complete unconsciousness that his hour of reckoning had come. A gentle push in the ribs awakened him with a start. Recognizing Mr. Pinkerton, he said with admirable coolness:
”You have spoiled the whole business. If you had not come in here to arrest me, I would have had those men across the line next week.”
When he said this, Proctor supposed that Donahue and Collins were asleep in an adjoining berth; but, even to save himself, he never thought of betraying them, which goes to show that he was a ”stancher”
man than Donahue and Collins had been led to believe. For some time he endeavored to maintain his old character with Mr. Pinkerton; but on the way to Susquehanna, realizing the hopelessness of his case, he acknowledged the deception he had practised, and his full responsibility with the others in the Susquehanna robbery. He also admitted his previous criminal record.
At Susquehanna, Proctor was placed in jail to await trial, and there Mr. Pinkerton visited him some time later. Something in the prisoner's manner convinced the detective that all was not as it should be, and he urged the sheriff to put Proctor in another cell and search his clothes and his cell thoroughly. This was done, and there were found a number of keys that fitted the locks of various doors in the jail, and also a large key fitting the gate from the jail-yard into the street.
Proctor's rare mechanical skill had enabled him to make these keys in his cell, from impressions furnished him by a woman who had been allowed to visit him. Being a good talker, Proctor had won this woman's sympathy, and had also made a strong appeal to her self-interest by promising, on his escape, to share with her a large sum of money he had buried.
At his trial Proctor pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to twelve years' imprisonment in the penitentiary at Cherry Hill, Pennsylvania.
Here, again, he was caught in the act of making keys to aid him to escape. He laid various other plans for regaining his liberty, indeed, but all were frustrated. His imprisonment worked no reform in him.
After he had served out his sentence, some burglaries committed in Maine brought him again under arrest, and, having been identified as a convict from the Ma.s.sachusetts State prison, he was taken back to that inst.i.tution, to serve out his unexpired sentence.
The United States Express Company had not relaxed its efforts against his a.s.sociates after Proctor's capture. Donahue and Collins returned to Montreal, well satisfied with the work they had done, and thinking themselves safe from pursuit. But President Platt instructed Robert Pinkerton to take every measure possible against them, and it was decided that as Donahue could not be reached and punished for the robbery at Susquehanna, he should be made to suffer for the early robbery at Quebec already referred to. Donahue's complicity in this robbery was proved by the discovery of a part of the stolen goods in his hotel at Fort Erie. Through the efforts of the express company and the Pinkertons he was now arrested, and on trial was convicted and sentenced to five years' imprisonment in the Kingston penitentiary.
After his conviction Donahue told the detectives that he was a fool to have had anything to do with such a dangerous project as an express robbery, but that the opportunity at Susquehanna was so tempting that he could not resist it. After his arrest the express company attached all of his property, and, although they did not succeed in getting a judgment against him, they fought him in the courts until his wife, acting for him, was obliged to mortgage all their possessions up to the last dollar, so that they never derived any substantial benefit from the stolen money.
As for Collins, he remained a fugitive from justice for some time after the conviction of Proctor and Donahue. Several years later, however, seeing himself constantly threatened by the express company and the detectives, he decided to placate his enemies by stepping out from the ranks of the law-breakers and trying to lead an honest life.
And he has succeeded, as the Pinkertons have reason to know; and his case goes to prove what is borne out by wide experience, that even the most desperate criminals are sometimes capable of genuine reform.
The Pollock Diamond Robbery
There were thirteen men in the smoker of a train on the Sioux City and Pacific Railroad when it drew out of Omaha at six o'clock on Friday evening, November 4, 1892, and started on its eastward run. Among these thirteen, sitting about half-way down the aisle, enjoying a good cigar, was Mr. W. G. Pollock of New York, a traveling salesman for W.
L. Pollock & Co., of the same city, dealers in diamonds. In the inside pocket of his vest he carried fifteen thousand dollars' worth of uncut diamonds, while a leather satchel on the seat beside him contained a quant.i.ty of valuable stones in settings.
On the front seat of the car, just behind the stove, sat a stolid-looking young man, who would have pa.s.sed for a farmer's lad. He seemed scarcely over twenty, having neither beard nor mustache, and a stranger would have put him down as a rather stupid, inoffensive fellow. Compared with Mr. Pollock, he was slighter in build, although an inch or so taller. As he sat there staring at the stove, the pa.s.senger in the seat behind him, J. H. Shaw, an Omaha well-digger, a bluff, hearty man of social instincts, tried to draw him into conversation; but the young fellow only shook his head sulkily, and the well-digger relapsed into silence. Presently, as the train was approaching California Junction, the young man on the front seat rose and started down the aisle. Curiously enough, he now wore a full beard of black hair five or six inches long. No one paid any attention to him until he stopped at Mr. Pollock's seat, drew a revolver, and said loud enough for every one in the car to hear him:
”Give me them diamonds.”
Then, without waiting for a reply, he s.h.i.+fted the revolver to his left hand, drew a slung-shot from his coat-pocket, and struck Mr. Pollock over the head such a heavy blow that the bag of the slung-shot burst, and the shot itself fell to the floor. Then he said again: ”Give me them diamonds.”
Realizing that the situation was desperate, Mr. Pollock took out his pocket-book and handed it to his a.s.sailant, saying: ”I have only a hundred dollars; here it is.”
Pus.h.i.+ng back the pocket-book as if unworthy of his attention, the man coolly aimed his revolver at Mr. Pollock's right shoulder and fired. Then he aimed at the left shoulder and fired. Both bullets. .h.i.t, and were followed by two more, which went whizzing by the diamond-merchant's head on either side, missing him, perhaps by accident, but probably by design, as the men were not three feet apart.
By this the other people in the car had disappeared under the seats like rats into their holes. To all intents and purposes Mr. Pollock was alone with his a.s.sailant. The latter evidently knew where the diamonds were secreted, for, ripping open his victim's vest, he drew out the leather wallet in which they were inclosed, and stuffed it into his pocket. Wounded though he was, Mr. Pollock now grappled with the thief, who, using the b.u.t.t of his revolver as a cudgel, brought down fearful blows on Pollock's head. The latter, however, getting into the aisle, fought the robber up and down the car; but a crus.h.i.+ng blow at last laid him senseless on the floor.
With perfect self-possession and without hurry the thief walked back down the aisle to Mr. Pollock's seat, and took one of the two leather bags lying there, by mistake choosing, though, the one that did not contain the mounted diamonds. Then he went to the end of the car, pulled the bell-rope, and, as the train began to slacken its speed in response to this signal, jumped off the steps, rolled down a bank fifteen feet high, and disappeared.
Sharing, apparently, in the general consternation and terror inspired by the young fellow, the conductor, instead of holding the train to pursue the thief, signaled the engineer to go ahead, and no effort was made for a capture until the train reached California Junction, several miles farther on. Meanwhile the panic-stricken pa.s.sengers recovered, at their leisure, their composure and their seats. Had but one of his fellow-travelers gone to the a.s.sistance of Mr. Pollock, the robber might easily have been overpowered. As it was, he all but murdered his man, plundered him of his diamonds, and escaped without the slightest interference. When his pistol was picked up, near the spot where he left the train, it was found that in the struggle the cylinder had caught, so that it would have been impossible to discharge the two chambers remaining loaded. Thus eleven able-bodied men were held in a state of abject terror by one slender lad, who at the last was practically unarmed.
At California Junction the wounded diamond-merchant was carried from the train, and that same night taken back to Omaha. Mr. Pollock, being a member of the Jewelers' Protective Union, a rich and powerful organization, established some years ago for the protection of jewelry salesmen against thieves, was ent.i.tled to its aid.
When the detectives reached the scene of the robbery, the robber had vanished as completely as if he had been whisked off to another planet. To be sure, farmers in the neighborhood brought rumors of the stealing of horses, of a strange man sleeping in the woods, and of a desperate-looking character seen limping along the road. But all this came to nothing, except to establish, what seemed probable, that the diamond-thief had fled back to Omaha. A patient and exhaustive search in Omaha resulted in nothing. The man was gone, and the diamonds were gone; that was all anybody knew.
What made the case more difficult was the uncertainty as to the robber's personal appearance; for some of the pa.s.sengers testified to one thing, and some to another. The black beard was a cause of confusion; only one witness besides Mr. Pollock remembered that the man wore such a beard. Mr. Pollock, however, was positive as to this particular, and it seemed as if he ought to know. It was also impossible to decide, from conflicting statements, whether the robber had a mustache or not, and whether it was dark or light in color. The fact is, the pa.s.sengers had been so thoroughly frightened at the time of the a.s.sault that the credibility of their testimony was much to be questioned.
Mr. Pollock reported that for several weeks previous to the robbery he had suspected that he was being followed. He also reported that on the day of the robbery he had been in the shop of the largest p.a.w.nbroker in Omaha, and that while he was there two noted Western gamblers had entered the shop and been presented to him as possible customers. He had made a trade of some diamonds with one of the men, and, in the course of the negotiations, had shown his entire stock. While the trade was in progress a negro on the premises had noticed, lounging about the front of the shop, a man in a slouch-hat who suggested the robber. From these circ.u.mstances it was decided that the robbery might be the work of an organized gang, who had been waiting their opportunity for many days, and had selected one of their number to do the actual deed.