Uncle Sam, Detective

  V

  THE PSYCHOLOGICAL SLEUTH

  Billy Gard was jogging comfortably from the station to the Commercialhotel in the carryall which, in Royerton, still afforded the only linkbetween those two points, when pandemonium broke out in the slumbrousstreets. He met its forerunner head on not two blocks from the station.This bolt that had launched itself from the clear skies took the form ofa normally dignified family carriage drawn by two lean bays. But thesedate respectability which surrounded this equipage when it was drivenby its proper owner, President Sissons of the Royerton National bank,had been lost in the madness of the present exploit.

  For the lean bays were now extending themselves in what appeared to bean attempt to break all speed records that the community had ever known.The dignified carriage was careening from side to side in a way thatthreatened its overthrow at any moment. Gard's first impression was of ateam that had broken loose from a hitching rack and dashed awayuncontrolled. But as it flashed past him there was an instant in whichthe actual situation was photographed upon his brain.

  For this team was not without a driver. He had seen the form of a slimyoung man which leaned far out over the dashboard--pale, refinedfeatures that fitted illy into a scene of such vigorous action. But whatwas more surprising was that this driver, instead of attempting torestrain his horses, was every moment lashing them into new exertions.

  "Homer Kester, as I live!" ejaculated the driver of the carryall inconsternation.

  "Who is Homer Kester?" asked Gard.

  "The cashier of the bank," was the reply.

  Whereupon the young special agent of the Department of Justice acquiredan even greater interest in the situation than he had experiencedbefore, for he had come to Royerton for the purpose of making inquiriesinto the condition of its national bank, which was under suspicion.

  Behind the fleeing carriage came the town constable, who had evidentlyappropriated, for purposes of giving chase, the first horse he had foundby the side of the street. Others had joined in the pursuit and a rabbleof small boys and curious townsmen crowded the street. From these thestranger was soon able to gather the story of what had happened in theimmediate past.

  It had suddenly developed that the cashier was short in his accounts.The directors had awakened of a sudden to a realization that theinstitution over which they presided was but a financial shell. Therewas no delay in the interest of expediency. An immediate call was sentforth for the constable. The young cashier went into a panic. Indesperation he rushed from the back door of the bank, cut loose the teamof the institution's president which stood near, leaped in and fled fromthe danger that faced him.

  It would have appeared that such a procedure would have been entirelyfutile, that there would have been no question of the apprehension ofthis criminal. Yet such was not the case, and Homer Kester was a thornin the flesh of the authorities and particularly of Special Agent BillyGard for many a day. For he ran his team two miles into the country,abandoned it, but sent it still adrift, caught a cross-country trolley,and with the exception of a single fleeting moment, was not again seenby the authorities for a year and a half.

  Gard, in the meantime, was faced with the immediate problem ofdetermining the nature of the crime and representing the United States,that justice might be meted out. In the course of which work hedeveloped the detail of what had happened to the lone financialinstitution of this country town and revealed a method by which a singledepositor had filched it of its funds in a way that almost amounted tothe knowledge and consent of the directors.

  The trouble was all caused by a young man by the name of George D.Caviness, who was born with a peculiar gift of inducing his associatesto perform for him such favors as were better not granted. It would seemthat he had taken for his model in life the monkey (if it was a monkey)that had first induced the cat to pull those historical chestnuts out ofthe fire. But so alluring were his blandishments, so attractive hispersonality, so popular was he socially, that the town had becomeaccustomed to forgiving his transgressions and allowing him to have hisway.

  The father of George D. had been a director of the Royerton Nationalbank and at one time a man of means. It was a great shock to the townwhen, three years earlier, the elder Caviness had blown out his brains.It was a surprise to his associates to find that his estate had sodwindled that there was almost nothing left. The bank was directlyembarrassed, because of the fact that the younger Caviness had borrowed,upon his father's endorsement, $3,000 from that institution. Knowing theyoungster as these directors did, they called him on the carpet andasked him what he intended to do toward making good.

  "I am going to pay these notes almost immediately," he said confidently."You know that I am now the local representative of a New York insurancecompany. I am doing a great business. In fact, I can promise a paymentto-morrow."

  "But," urged a director, "your personal account is also overdrawn."

  "That will not be necessary any more," said Caviness. "I am now on afirm financial basis. I am now in a position to throw new business tothe bank instead of being a burden to it."

  With these assurances the directors parted with young Caviness on thefriendliest of terms. They wanted to believe in what he said, as thiswould save the bank money and themselves embarrassment. Further thanthis there seemed nothing that could be done, and the boundless optimismof the young man created confidence.

  The next day the insurance agent deposited for discount a sixty-day notefor $300, given him by a man for whom he had written a policy. He drew$50 in cash, and allowed the balance to be placed to his credit. Thedirectors were encouraged. The insurance man continued such operations,much of his paper being perfectly good. It would appear that he was onthe way toward clearing up his affairs, but Caviness spent much money,some of it going toward the entertainment of sons and daughters of thedirectors. If they stopped him at any time it would have meant theabsolute loss of the amount he already owed. As illogical as it mightseem, more and more credit was extended.

  In addition to the liberties that Caviness thus took with the directorsof the bank, he had also established a sort of dominance over HomerKester, its young cashier. The dominant insurance man had been a leaderamong their mutual associates from youth, was the social lion of thetown, and always patronized the cashier. That timid youth had allowedhis friend to overdraw his account when his father was a director, andit therefore seemed safe. This fact made it easier afterward when it wasunsafe.

  Finally the directors awoke to the fact that George Caviness owed thebank $10,000. Homer Kester, the cashier, so reported. The directors wereappalled. This was the end.

  Caviness was contrite. He made new notes for the whole amount. Thesewould at least appear in the assets of the bank when the examiner camearound. He promised he would in future deposit only cash and certifiedchecks. The hope of recovering some of the money led the directors tokeep the account open. There seemed no other way.

  But Kester, the cashier, had not reported all the facts with relationto the Caviness accounts. The checking account of the latter was at thistime overdrawn to the amount of $3,500. The cashier realized that he hadbeen personally at fault in allowing this. He had confessed hisembarrassment to Caviness. The latter had advised that the cashierjuggle the accounts in such a way that the shortage would not show, andthat he fail to report it to the directors.

  Arranging the accounts was easy. As a matter of fact, these overdraftswere already being hid by being carried on the books as cash. Thearrangement had become necessary upon the occasion of a recent visit ofa national bank examiner. As the examiner had been deceived, so might bethe directors. So it happened that Caviness was $3,500 deeper in debtthan the directors knew.

  Billy Gard was fascinated in developing the psychology of the case--themanner in which this prodigal played upon the cashier and the directorsto his advantage. But here the miscreant had come to the end of hisstring with the directors. He was to be allowed only to pay in money.But with the cashier the situation was different. C
aviness now hadKester in his control. That youngster had made a false report to theexaminer and the directors. He had violated the law. His position, evenhis freedom, depended on helping Caviness to make good.

  "If I had but a few hundred dollars," Caviness told Kester when they metsurreptitiously to talk the matter over, "I could clean up the wholeamount. I have a most unusual business opportunity in Philadelphia. Youmust let me overdraw just once more."

  "Not a cent," insisted Kester. "I have already let you ruin me and thebank. I will go no further."

  "If you don't," brutally stated the insurance man, "you are ruined bywhat you have already done, I am ruined, the bank is ruined. This is theone chance."

  In the end he went to Philadelphia to grasp this one chance. Billy Gardacknowledged that it was logical that the cashier should allow him to doso. The draft that Caviness drew was for twice the amount he had namedbut the harassed cashier could not bring himself to refuse to honor it.Caviness had proved himself a psychologist again. Two days later asmaller draft came but with no line of explanation. The chance to recoupmight depend upon this money, the cashier felt. He appreciated thegreater chances on the other side but, having honored the larger check,he could not turn down the smaller one. It was not logic that he shoulddo so. As the days passed there came other drafts for always smalleramounts. There was still no report from Caviness. Yet what excuse couldthe cashier offer himself for refusing these small drafts when he hadhonored the big ones? Finally the prodigal drew, in a single day, fortysmall checks ranging from one to five dollars.

  Despairingly the cashier cashed every one.

  It was during the week that followed that the directors had precipitatedthe flight of the cashier. Billy Gard found the whole case easy to clearup with the exception of the apprehension of the two men who had beenthe instruments in wrecking the bank.

  The special agent had little doubt of his ability to catch Homer Kester,the cashier. There was the almost infallible theory that such a fugitivewould write home. There was but the necessity to wait until he shoulddo so and the point of hiding would be indicated by the post mark. Therewas no need of haste in the case of Kester, it seemed, but Caviness washarder to figure out.

  Yet just the reverse proved to be true. Gard's theory for catching a manof the Caviness type held good, while on the fugitive cashier heabsolutely failed.

  In Royerton it was easy to find many intimates of the insurance man.From these it was learned that the spendthrift often visitedPhiladelphia and that while there he kept fast company. Some of theyoung men of the village knew of the places he frequented, the peoplewho were his friends.

  "Such a man," soliloquized Billy Gard, "always hides with a woman."

  Whereupon the special agent returned to Philadelphia and beganinvestigating, one after another, the resorts and the sporting friendsof the missing insurance agent. One thread after another was followed toits end until, in tracing a certain woman to Germantown, the specialagent met with a result and a surprise that was beyond his expectation.

  A drayman who had hauled the goods and chattels of the woman he wastracing had given Gard the Germantown address. It was eleven o'clock ona sunshiny morning when the special agent reached the address. It was anarrow house in a closely built row and evidently was rented, each flooras a flat. Gard had reconnoitered front and back, had gossiped with thegrocer at the corner, with some children in the street. He was lookingfor an opportunity to approach the janitor of the house to question himinformally, wanted to talk to the postman. Then he met the policeman onthis beat. He had asked this guardian of the law about the occupants ofthe flat in question and the two men were drifting idly past whenpandemonium broke loose.

  Shriek after shriek tore its way through the drawn curtains of theground-floor flat. There was the crash of broken furniture, the whack ofheavy blows, the thud of falling bodies. The policeman and the specialagent ran to the door of the house to which the former put his shoulderwith good effect. They were thus let into a narrow hall. Off of thiswere the doors to the flat through which the noise of a vastdisturbance continued to come. It required the strength of the two mento break through the barrier, and some delay was occasioned. But whenthe door was finally forced it was a wild scene that was revealed.

  They had broken into the sitting room. Sprawled across its floor was theform of a disheveled woman, frowsily blonde, shapely, clad in a dressingsacque and evidently unconscious. Chairs were upset, tables overturned.

  The intruders gave but a hurried glance to this apartment, however, forthe action of the play was still going forward and might be seen throughthe torn portieres that led into the adjoining dining-room. As theylooked the form of a strong young man fell heavily across thedining-room table, felled by a blow from the stout stick of a slimantagonist. The wielder of the stick shifted his position and Billy Gardgot a view of his face, lividly white, delicately chiseled and refinedin appearance. It seemed illy to fit into this chaotic scene. Yet thespecial agent knew he had seen it before and instantly the photographicflash of such a face bending over the dashboard of a madly plungingcarriage returned to his consciousness. It was the face of Homer Kester.

  Billy Gard had often had occasion to be vastly surprised by theunexpected vigor and prowess of mild and law-abiding men when plunged bycircumstances into the realms of the lawless. He had therefore not beengreatly surprised when the young cashier had made his wild ride tofreedom. But as the aggressive wielder of a heavy stick that had beatenhis antagonist into unconsciousness--this was indeed a militant role tobe played by the inoffensive former cashier. That young man evidentlyhad qualities that had not been attributed to him.

  Gard knew instantly that the man stretched across the dining-room tablewas Caviness, the bank wrecker. The policeman, true to his training,rushed into the affray that it might be stopped and the participantsplaced under arrest. The wielder of the heavy stick turned toward thedoor, took in the situation in a glance and fled toward the back of thehouse. As in his escape from Royerton, all the luck broke with him. Ashe dashed into the kitchen he slammed the door behind him. It wasprobably all chance that the latch was so set that the door locked, andthe officer was delayed in breaking it down. From the back steps of thisground-floor flat to an alley was but twenty feet. When the officergained those steps he but looked into a blank board fence in which thereappeared another closed door. He rushed to this, flung it open, lookedout. There was not a soul in sight. The police of Philadelphia losttrack of Homer Kester when he slammed the flat door in the face of thismember of its Germantown staff. The prowess of the Federal agents,represented by William H. Gard, one of its best men, was alsoineffective in tracing the fugitive farther than to a railway stationwhere he took a west-bound train.

  It was more than a year after this and George D. Caviness was servingtime in the Federal penitentiary at Atlanta. Billy Gard had been workinghard on many other cases that had intervened and the tracing of HomerKester had been allowed to rest. It is the motto of the Federaldetectives, however, that a case is never abandoned, and now Gard wasback upon the old task of catching the fugitive cashier. His decks wereotherwise clear and his instructions were to get his man.

  Gard locked himself up with the Kester case for three days. He read therecords of it, reviewed his personal knowledge, got together every scrapof information that had any bearing upon the character of the fugitive.He wanted to know exactly what sort of youngster Kester was, he wantedto place himself in that youngster's place and attempt to determine whathe would have done under the circumstances. It is a method that has beenused by a few detectives with very great success. But it is only theoccasional man who is so human that he may discard his own personalityand appreciate the course that would be taken by another, who may thusget results.

  In Kester he had a youth of twenty-four who had been born and reared inRoyerton, had rarely been away from that town, had no interests out ofit. He was a young man of good character, had demonstrated certainstrokes of boldness and action. He had a mother and
father and twosisters living in Royerton.

  It appeared that Kester had fled and that he had cut all ties behindhim--that he had left town and had never communicated with his relativesor friends. While Gard had been off the case a vigilant watch hadnone-the-less been kept upon all letters arriving in Royerton that mightpossibly be from the fugitive. No letters had come.

  "Now, Gard," said the detective to himself, "were you a youngster ofthis training, living thus in Royerton, surrounded by a family to whichyou were devoted, with no interests in the world outside, with a certainelement of boldness in your nature; if under these circumstances you gotinto trouble, would you run clear away and never communicate with yourpeople?"

  "No," he answered, transported back the few years that separated himfrom the inexperience of twenty-four. "I could not break so easily frommy dependence upon my family and the only world I had ever known."

  "And if you were thus thrown upon your own resources in the big outsideworld and had no money, and if you had the additional handicap ofhaving to keep in hiding--would you be able to face a proposition likethis and still not call for help from your people?"

  "No," again answered the hypothetical youngster. "I would hide and finda way to get money and news from home."

  So the detective reached the conclusion that Kester was, in allprobability, communicating with his relatives. It was evident that hewas not writing home. Too close a watch could be kept on letters comingto a small town for any of his people or their confidential friends tobe receiving them without the knowledge of the special agents who,through the postmaster and letter carriers, had been steadily watchingthis means of communication.

  So the conclusion was reached that Kester was getting messages to hispeople through some other means than the mails, in all probabilitythrough a confidential messenger. To do this he must be near by. Hecould hide to best advantage in a city. Philadelphia, Pittsburgh,Baltimore were in a convenient radius. The detective drew the conclusionthat, were he in the boots of the fugitive, he would have taken refugein one of these cities; that, had he not been willing to risk themails, which Kester evidently was not, he would have used some trustygo-between and through that agency would have learned the news from homeand received from his relatives the money upon which to live.

  Upon the basis of this theory Billy Gard asked himself more questions.

  "Were I hiding under such conditions whom would I use as a messenger?"

  A faithful former servant who might be living there, a distant relative,some individual hired for the task. There were not so manypossibilities. They might be exhausted in a few weeks' investigation.Was there not, however, a shorter road to results?

  "If I were in this lad's place," the detective again queriedintrospectively, "what would make me write home?"

  "Obviously nothing would," came the answer, "so long as I couldcommunicate through the safer medium of a trusted messenger."

  "But if the messenger were an impossibility, would I write?"

  This query the detective had some difficulty in answering. He broughthimself to experience the lonesomeness and homesickness of thefugitive, the lad whose whole life interest was wrapped up in the littlecircle in which he had moved. At the same time he appreciated thefugitive's proven fear of the mails and his avoidance of them so far.

  But for the sake of laying down a basis for action Detective Billy Gardgranted that he would write if he could not communicate otherwise. Ifthis were admitted what was to be done? Obviously the former methods ofcommunication should be cut off.

  How could this be done?

  The messenger method of communication was possible only because thefugitive was near home. If he were far away it could not be used. If hewere far away he would also feel an added degree of security. A worldlyfugitive would not, but Kester would. With a continent between him andhis crime the man who had always lived in this narrow sphere would notappreciate the possibilities of his capture. He would write.

  Special Agent Billy Gard was quite sure of this. He would have done ithimself at twenty-four. The runaway cashier should be captured by beingcaused to flee thousands of miles further away.

  Having reached this conclusion the special agent called Police SergeantFlaherty on the telephone. Would Flaherty come to see him? Flahertywould be there in fifteen minutes.

  Now Gard knew that Flaherty had grown up in the little town of Royerton.His folks lived there and Flaherty occasionally went back for a visit.The Irishman was a trustworthy guardian of the law and might be dependedupon to carry out orders.

  "Flaherty," said the special agent, "would you like to take a bit of atrip to Royerton over Sunday and see your folks, with all expensespaid?"

  "Would I eat a Dago's apples when I was hungry?" said the policeman.

  "Well, here is the lay of the land," Gard explained. "I am after thatfugitive cashier, Kester, and I am going to get him. He is not far fromhome and his folks are in communication with him. I want them to knowthat I am after him. They will tell him, will supply him with a bundleof money and he will not stop running until he reaches Arizona. Then Iwill get him."

  "Them are not police methods," said Flaherty. "I am not catching thisdip, but when I do pinch them it is usually by getting close to them."

  "I like to catch them on the wing," said Gard. "Anyway, you have merelya speaking part. Your talk is to the home folks, to the effect that I amhot on the trail of Homer Kester and likely to nab him at any moment. Gotalk your head off."

  Whereupon the policeman from Royerton spent the week-end at thatvillage, had a good time and passed the word of warning.

  Billy Gard waited ten days.

  At the end of that time he was called on the telephone by the postmasterat Royerton. A letter had come to a sister of Homer Kester and in thatyoung man's handwriting. It was postmarked "Spokane, Washington."

  Gard despatched a long telegram in code to the special agent of theDepartment of Justice nearest Spokane, he being located in Seattle. Heasked that officer to run over to Spokane and pick up his man. It wasmerely the task of locating a well-described stranger in acomparatively small city. Two days later the Department was informed ofthe arrest.

  "Psychology," said Billy Gard ruminatively, "is a great help to adetective--when it works."