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State Library of Iowa

1917 Yearbook

1917 Yearbook


1917 Yearbook


welding. I touched a bell and an orderly arrived. "Jones summon Captain Burns."
Burns presently appeared. Having outlined
to him the clues, I gave him his orders.
"Detail detectives Brown, Doves, Bates and
O'Shaunessy to shadow the suspects." "Yes,
sir." "Place a strong guard over the Hogan
residence." "Yes, sir." "Place detectives in
all railways and ferry depots and upon all
roadways with orders to arrest all suspicious
characters." "Yes, sir." "Furnish all these
men with descriptions and photographs of
the suspects." "Yes, sir." "Get an order
from the governor to have harbor-police to
patrol the water front vigilantly. And above
all, let these things be done with utmost
secrecy. Go!" "Yes, sir."
In an instant he was gone, and I retired
with the utmost confidence that the thieves
would be seized with the goods on them.
Next morning in came Burns ushering before him two downcast figures, Ike the
Slasher, and Slippery-fingered Joe. A search
revealed all the stolen documents and money
and without difficulty or loss of time they
were convicted, and conveyed to a more safe
prison, at Ft. Leavenworth, for a period of
eighteen years. And so ended the marvelous
episode of the Hogan mystery with its horrors and intrigues.
The solving of this mystery was a simple
one. Visiting the place of the robbery, I
studied the manner in which the crime had
been perpetrated. The findmg of finger
prints on a smoothly finished table showed
that suspicions I had entertained even before visiting the scene of the crime were
correct. It was then a simple matter to
spread out my men in places where these
suspects would surely go. They were seized,
as we have seen, in a railway depot, purchasing tickets for a remote part of the
globe. Being brought to my office and
searched revealed that they were the thieves
I had many times sent to the rest house.
Great was the praises of the newspapers,
with their headlines declaring the greatness
of so humble a personage as myself, while
my acquaintances admired and marveled
over the mysterious powers and wonders of
my profession.
This was my last appearance in the field
of crime, although my backing and brain
work was the cause of making a success of
a beginner. I have since lived with a worldwide reputation, a comfortable fortune, and
a loving wife and family.
Silas Parker put his hand idly into his
pocket and remarked, "Now this guy Wilson—" but a shrill whistle interrupted him.
Bijah Jebens, the village storekeeper,
looked at the clock and jumped up from his
seat before a checkerboard in excitement.
"Gosh! It's a quarter to three, that must
be the 2:10 North-bound. Instantly the
circle of sages who perpetually discussed the
affairs of the nation in Jebens' store rushed
for places of vantage at the windows or door
where they might see the fast mail rush by
the station half a block away.
It did not dash bv, however. For the first
time in 27 days by the exact count of Pete
Schroeder, it began to slow up as it ran
around the bend and at last came to a dead
stop. By this time everyone in the eleven
buildings on Smithville's main street were
watching the train to see what would happen. Presently a well dressed young man
alighted from the platform of the rear car.
He appeared to be in his early twenties,
and was as we said before well dressed. In
fact from a Smithville point of view he was
scandalously dressed. His brand new straw
hat was without doubt a crown make and
must have cost upwards to eight or ten dollars. The nifty blueish-black suit with the
athletic suggesting cut must have been made
by Souinhiemer himself and was probably a
''Varsity 15", as described in Si Parker's
catalogue from the city. The well fitting
collar, red and white checked tie, and "English" shoes gave him a look of decided superiority over anything Smithville had ever
seen before.
The newcomer's face was not incongruent
to his clothes. He had brown hair, greyish-
blue eyes, and a rather firm mouth and nose.
There was not a hint of a beard or mustache
but his eyebrows were well defined and his
general appearance that of a gentleman.
After looking coolly about him, he picked
up his satchel and walked slowly down the
street towards Bije Jebens' store. He made
arrangements to be driven in Bije's hack to
the Art Halloway place, seven miles down
the Stocktown road and then loitered impatiently about the store until the hack drove
up to the door. He carried all attacks on
his identity with the air of a practised
After Sam, Bije's negro delivery boy,
drove the stranger down the main street, Si
Parker turned to the members of the loafing
"Say da ya know who that boy is? That's
one of Art Halloway's grandsons. I'd know
a Halloway a block ofr. Calculate he's going
to open the old store up again. Huh!"
Si Parker had calculated right. The
stranger was Jim Halloway, a grandson of
Art Halloway, and a fine example of Yale's
latest model, in speed and getting to the
point. Within a week Bill Orery, the village
carpenter, was at work, almost doublin' in
size the old store across from Bije Jebens.
The old building had stood there for 15
years since Art Halloway had sold out his
stock to Bije and retired to the country. It
had always been suspected that some day
one of the Halloway grand-children would
re-open the old place, as Art had always refused to sell it, but no one had expected the
comeback to be so thorough.
A week after Jim's arx'ival the first load of
stock came, and from then on, day after day,
the wagons followed until by the end of the
second week there was enough food stored
to feed Smithville and her 300 inhabitants
for twenty weeks of Sundays. The painters
had by this time decorated the store in