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Show r I JITe Repentance j l A TRUE STORY OF THE SECRET SERVICE ; By COL. II. C. WHITLEY Fo States Secret Service I I r -3 John. He now bPcame dazed with fear and excitement. He left the home of his boyhood on foot and maLe hi.s way to Philadelphia, where he chanced to meet his step-father who was a member of a gang of counterfeiters. John was easily persuaded and he suffered suf-fered himself to be. led along step by step until he was deep in the mire. Our Civil war had brought a great change In the finances of the country. Wild cat banks had gone out of existence ex-istence and a new kind of money was in use. There was a great deal of counterfeiting going on and John Hartz was one of the number engaged in It. Like the most of the men of his stamp he was unsuccessful In accumulating ac-cumulating wealth. A counterfeit beer stamp made its appearance in Philadelphia and I found it necessary to visit that city The night was dark and stormy and It was about the portentous hour of 1:00 a. m., when ghosts are said to stalk abroad in ghastly white array, that four detectives left their comfortable comfort-able quarters in the hotel with the expectation ex-pectation of making an important arrest. The man they sought was invisible in-visible during the day time and a difficult dif-ficult man to encounter at night. He had frequently been heard of but had seldom been seen by the government detectives. When the officers reached the appointed place they scattered and took up their positions where they would attract as Jittle attention as possible. Their mysterious mission had been fully explained; a deal was expected to be pulled off. One of the detectives was rotund of person. He had, through one of the counterfeiting gang, been Introduced as a beer dealer deal-er who said he was willing to take his chances with bogus stamps, and he had bargained with one of the counterfeiters coun-terfeiters for five thousand counterfeit counter-feit lager beer stamps, and was to receive them at a certain hour at a designated place. When the man put in an appearance appear-ance to make the delivery he was to be arrested. This individual, owing to the darkness of the night, was unable to see the detectives stationed about, and he walked with his carpet bag in i the slightest information. I had of j fered him his liberty and $1,01)0 it money as an inducement, but he stub bornly refused. He seemed to havt deluded himself into the idea thai treachery amoug a gang of criminals was much worse than the unlawful deeds performed by them. I learaed from the prisoner that he had a family. When this was mentioned men-tioned he shuddered a little. Coming to the conclusion that I could learn nothing from him I was ready to lock him up. Before doing this I suggested the idea of taking him to see his wife and children. Early in the morning I procured a carriage, and after a 20 minutes' drive we stopped in front of a large tenement house which we entered, ascending the stairs to the second floor. Knocking at a door to our right we were after some delay admitted by a woman wearing a calico wrapper, and we entered the room which was dark and dismal as a tomb. Two or three broken chairs, a rickety table and a mattress spread upon the floor and covered with ragged quilts, constituted consti-tuted the furnishings. Peeping from beneath the tattered covering I saw the bright eyes and curly heads ol two young children. "Is this your home, Mr. Hartz?" 1 inquired. . "This is where I stay," he replied, I saw at once that I was up against a species of affliction for which I had no ready-made speech of condolence, and I was just a little embarrassed. There was a depth of seriousness in the affair that I had rarely met with. I was confronted with the genuine woes of humanity and at a loss for the moment to know just what to do or say. After deliberating a short time I came to the conclusion that it was best to explain all to his wife. She looked like an intelligent woman and I proceeded to acquaint her with the facts concerning her husband's arrest ar-rest and the punishment that was sure to follow. I likewise pointed out the door through which he might escape. I demanded a clean breast without reserve. I was to know all the particulars partic-ulars in regard to the conspiracy, and he was to act in good faith and to assist as-sist the detectives in plans to capture cap-ture the engraver and all others connected con-nected with the affair; besides, he was, if It became necessary, to go upon up-on the witness stand and testify against his confederates. Counterfeiters Counterfeit-ers as a general thing are treacherous towards one another when in a tight place; it is anything to save them- 4 y.wwp T was sometime in the fall of 1S59 that a stranger strang-er came trudging along the turnpike. He was short and fat. His round red face was covered with a stubby growth of blonde whiskers. He wore a broad flat blue cloth cap and a long brown , linen l duster a little out of season. sea-son. A bundle tightly rolled roll-ed in black oilcloth was strapped to his back. He stopped In the middle of the road. Looking about, his eyes rested upon a weather-beaten sign board upon which had once been painted the picture of a black bear resting upon its haunches. For more than a hundred years this Blgn board had been swinging to and fro as if beckoning and inviting passersby to enter the little Inn that was standing some 15 or 20 feet back from the road. It took Mr. Herman Weisgar-ber Weisgar-ber several minules to decipher the Inscription beneath the faded picture. When he had succeeded, as he thought, he muttered audibly, "Dish ish do blace. Der black bear vas inn, und I shust myself vlll walk In mit him." Bracing up a little and stroking his chin he stepped with a lengthened stride Into the little front room that Berved as an office for the Black Bear Inn. Here he found himself in the presence of a pleasant-faced woman who smiled coquettishly. He greeted her in his own tongue, In which she replied, and the conver- One day a drover came along the pike with a long string of oxen and stopped at the Black Bear Inn, and engaged a pasture for his cattle over night. The drover was new in that part of the country, and for safety he handed his pocket book, containing several hundred dollars, to John Hartz for safe keeping, in the presence of Welsgarber. Shortly afterwards when the drover was out attending to his cattle, Weisgarber suggested the idea to John of changing the good money in the pocket book for an equal amount of counterfeit that he had on hand. John was easily persuaded. He thought his step-father knew best. In the morning the drover received his pocket book and proceeded to count Its contents.' He at once saw that the bills were of a different kind than those he had been carrying. He pulled a counterfeit detector from his pocket and examined them. Having satisfied himself that they were bad, he charged John with having substituted substi-tuted them. The accused man's face turned red and he began to stammer, but his step-father who was standing by, came at once to the front and commenced com-menced to talk in German to John. Turning to the drover he protested in badly broken English that the young man was honest and hadn't even opened the pocket book. Between the two the drover got a tongue lashing for his accusation that so completely upset him that he was none too sure that he ever had any. money. He was now in a bad fix; a long waj's from eation was now carried on briskly in the German language. It was a buxom bux-om widow on the one hand and a rascally ras-cally counterfeiter on the other. He was a long-time rogue, but she was honest and unsuspicious. With her the world was good, with him it was dog eat dog and the devil take the hindmost. The widow Hartz was altogether al-together too unsophisticated to penetrate pene-trate the dark recesses of the hollow-hearted hollow-hearted man that had by chance come suddenly into the affairs of her life. She judged him by her own heart and little dreamed of the misery so Boon to follow her chance acqualnt-i acqualnt-i ance with Herman Weisgarber. Her husband had died about two years before. At this time her heart was centered on her son, a young man nearly twenty years of age. John Hartz, thanks to the training of his father, was honest and industrious. The Black Bear Inn and the little farm adjoining was a sacred inheritance inheri-tance from his paternal grandfather. The Inn waa now somewhat out of date, but was still doing its part towards to-wards furnishing the mother and son a living and a little to lay up for a rainy day. John's father had taught him to stand firmly for the right in Ell things. Mr. Weisgarber's gray blue eyes were shining brightly beneath his overhanging brows as he stood explaining ex-plaining to the widow Hartz regarding himself. The word tramp, now so aptly applied to the tie-path tourist, had not been coined in that day and men of his like were little understood. He said he was just out on a pleasure tour und that he traveled on foot as a matter of choice. He was moving selves. With John Hartz it was different; dif-ferent; he preferred to sacrifice himself him-self rather than to give away hiscon-federates. hiscon-federates. When the wife was made acquainted acquaint-ed with the proposition that had been made to her husband she appealed to him in language that seemed irresistible. irresist-ible. He hung his head. There was an expression on his face that was indefinable. in-definable. A fresh link in misery's chain had now reached his heart The scene was absolutely painful and I soon saw that he was weakening. A man's character varies in accordance accord-ance with the position in which he is placed. Criminals are human, like our selves, and if we would learn the dangers lurking in our pathway, we should know how they chance to stumble and fall. Some men are weaker and more prone to. vice than others. There is a never-ending battle bat-tle between right and wrong. I never yet found a man so bad that there was not something in his character upon which to base a hope. I never yet saw a man that was so good as to be free from danger. There is a thread of gold running through the character of the worst of men; the difficulty is to reach it. ' The prisoner's eyes fell and were filled with tears. We have no pity for leisurely along that he might better enjoy the lovely scenery and pure mountain air. His words were well , chosen and deeply impressive as he cautiously worked his way up to the point of offering to remain for a time and assist in the work about the Inn and farm. He had a smooth tongue. The ' turn-pike, winding its way along up and down the sides, over and across the Allegheny mountains was then the popular highway , for drovers and wagoners upon their way to and fro between Eastern Pennsylvania Pennsyl-vania and Pittsburg. The people along this route were principally Germans. Ger-mans. Some of them could neither read nor speak English. ,They lived mainly on what they produced and had little occasion to spend their money. Almost anything that looked like money would pass. In those days much of the paper money in circulation was of the wild sat kind. Between the counterfeit and genuine issue there was but little lit-tle choice. One passed from hand to hand almost as readily as the other. Herman Weisgarber, as he called himself, had for many years been dodging dodg-ing about from place to place making ma-king a living by shoving the queer. Under pretence of his inability to understand un-derstand the English language he was , able to deceive the officers and es- f cape arrest. It was always "Nlcht- veratehe" with him. "He shust didn't know notting 'bout baper monies." To the widow Hartz he appeared a man of honor. She measured his character by her own and could see no farther. Six months had scarcely passed from the time she met him until he became her husband. When John Hartz came in contact with his step-father he was hones', axifl had he followed in the footsteps of his own father he would have remained re-mained so. It did not take long to prove that he waa susceptible and easily drawn Into ways that were dark and forbidding. Step by step he was led along and craftily Initiated into the mysterious doings of counterf.-lt-Hra ! home with a pocket book full of counterfeit coun-terfeit money as his only wherewith to pay his expenses. After everything had cooled down, Mr. Weisgarber, in a burst of generosity, gener-osity, was good enough to loan the drover one or two hundred dollars to pay his way until he could reach Strasburgh, a little town at the foot of the Three Brother mountains. The drover was silenced but not altogether convinced. His money was all right the day before, but he wasn't, quite sure it was of the right stamp when he handed it over to the young man for safe keeping. Here was an exemplification exem-plification of the little difference between be-tween the truth and a lie well stuck to. Time rolled on and John Hartz' career in crime became more and more firmly fixed. One day the sheriff came with a warrant for the "Flying Dutchman," which meant Herman Weisgarber. "Gott en Himmell! Vot ish dish?" he exclaimed. A long explanation ensued and the sheriff was greatly puzzled regarding his duty. He was convinced that the accused man was innocent, and he thought it might be a safe thing to leave him at his home and go back to the county seat and report before making ma-king the arrest. When he reached there he was told to return at once and bring his man. When he got back to the Black Bear Inn Mr. Weisgarber was out. He had saddled up and rode away and might not return for several days, perhaps never. But the good-natured sheriff didn't see it that way. He would come back again, or he might present himself voluntarily at the sheriff's office. The mother had now experienced enough to satisfy her that she had made a great mistake and that she was tied to a bad man. Her life became be-came a burden to her. One day she suddenly disappeared. After a long search she was found dead with a . rope tightly drawn about her neck I hanging to a stout hook in the smoke ! house. The scene was too much for hand bravely up to the officer in waiting wait-ing at the place agreed upon. On a given signal the detectives hurriedly closed in. The counterfeiter counterfeit-er did not readily submit and the officers offi-cers soon found they had tackled a rough customer. For some minutes the scuffling and twisting was furious and he was not fairly subdued until a pair of glistening handcuffs was slipped upon his wrists. The cold steel took the fight out of him and he was at once escorted to the Bingham house. ) It was one of the kind of conspiracies conspir-acies that are a direct fraud upon the government, and I was very anxious to reach its source, which particularly meant the engraver of the plates from which the stamps were printed. I was not a little surprised when I learned that the wholesale dealer we had caught was John Hartz. This was the first time I had met him. He had for several years maintained a reputation among the detectives as a person who could not under any circumstances be made to squeal. I could well afford to turn him loose if he would furnish the information leading to the capturing cap-turing of the important men behind him. The squealer in cases of this kind is usually the most powerful adjunct to the detective art. While these officers offi-cers have little respect for him they are delighted to avail themselves of his services. I was well acquainted with the most prominent feature in the prisoner's past career. He laid claim to the possession of a principle to which he had steadfastly adhered. He had been arrested several times for passing counterfeit money and had on all occasions persistently refused to squeal on his confederates. He preferred rather to sacrifice himself than to assist the government in any manner. I had up to that time never met a man under like circumstances that could not by some means be Induced In-duced to squeal, but I pounded John Hartz up one side and down the other until broad daylight without eliciting the tears shed by criminals, iney are deserved, but they are tears just the same, and sometimes come from a heart unjustly pierced. His wife now approached him and said, "Where is the money to come from to pay the rent for this miserable room we are living in? How am I ,to obtain food and clothing for our children when you are in the penitentiary?" Accustomed as I was to scenes of this kind my1 heart was deeply touched and my hand went almost involuntarily involuntari-ly to my pocket. -I pulled out a roll of bills. It was the government's money. Peeling off five twenties, I handed them to the woman. "Take this, my good woman, I cannot save your husband, hus-band, but I will give you something with which to supply your immediate wants. Buy these children some clothes." . I handed her an additional twenty. The counterfeiter and his wife stood looking earnestly Into each other's faces. Both seemed well nigh brokenhearted. broken-hearted. He stepped towards me as he said: "You are the only decent man I have ever seen in the detective business and I am going to tell you all about it." I have seen crime In its many phases and have noted the effect of a long term of imprisonment upon men as they received their sentence, but John Hartz appeared as the most repentant criminal I had ever met. He had been caught red-handed and could have been easily convicted, but the result of his confession and assistance was many times more important to the government. It led to the breaking up root and branch, of an extensive group of dangerous counterfeiters. The engraver, procurer and six others were arrested with the evidence of their guilt in their hands. All were convicted and sentenced to serve various va-rious terms In the penitentiary. My promise to Hartz was religiously kept He was Buffered to go at large. What became of him I am unable to say. (Copyright, 1910. by W. Q. Chapman.) |
