"You were very careless to put the money in such a place," continued Sommers; "the notes were so rotten, I was almost afraid to handle them."

"You mean," said Bucholz, with a laugh, "that Schulte was careless, not me;" then starting up he walked backward and forward, exclaiming: "My G.o.d, how careless I was!"

"Yes," replied Sommers, "after risking so much, you should have taken better care of it."

Bucholz stopped in his walk, and facing his companion asked in a manner that gave every evidence of insincerity,

"Do you think that I killed him?"

"I think you know something about it," replied Sommers, gazing steadily into the eyes of his questioner. "Do you think if tramps had killed him, they would have left twenty thousand dollars upon his person?"

"Well," said Bucholz, laughing in a bewildered manner, and then, as if taking comfort from the reflection and anxious to change the conversation, "the money is all right, anyhow."

Yes, the money was, indeed, all right, but not in the sense he deluded himself by believing.

They then discussed the various measures that were to be adopted in order to deceive the officers of the State.

It was arranged that the two pocket-books should be thrown behind a large rock that stood by the railroad track, directly opposite the path which led through the woods and along which the old man and himself were in the habit of traveling. Bucholz seemed over joyed at this proposition, and with many flattering expressions complimented his companion upon the wisdom of his suggestions. They would have continued further, but the time had arrived for closing the jail, and Sommers was compelled to take his departure.

Upon the occasion of his next visit he found a marked change in William Bucholz. He appeared to be silent and depressed in spirits.

Horrible dreams had visited his fitful slumbers, and the accusing voice of the murdered man had rung in his ears during the solemn watches of the night. The pallid, blood-stained face of Henry Schulte had appeared to him, and his conscience had been an active producer of unrest and terror. Try as he would, that awful presence followed him, and he found sleep to be an impossibility. Hollow-eyed and sad, he greeted the detective, and as he cordially shook him by the hand, he noticed that a spasm of pain crossed the face of the prisoner.

"What is the matter, William?" he anxiously inquired. "Have you seen a ghost?"

"Oh, no," replied the other, with a shiver--"it is nothing, only a little cold, I guess."

The quick eye of the detective could not be deceived--something had occurred of more than usual import, and he was determined to ascertain what it was. Pressing him closely, Bucholz admitted, with a forced smile, that on the day before, he had been reading Schiller's play of "The Robbers," and that becoming excited by the heroic action of "Carl von Moor," he had thoughtlessly plunged his penknife, which he had in his hand at the time, into his own side. The blade had touched a rib, however, and that prevented the wound from being very serious. The blood had flowed copiously from the incision thus made, and the wound was even now very painful.

Sommers, at a glance, saw through this flimsy pretext, and realized at once what had happened. The miserable man, nervous and excited, had, in the excess of fear, attempted to take his own life. The grim specters of the night were too horrible to endure, and he had sought to escape their torments by the act which he had attempted.

His shirt had been saturated with blood, and he had been compelled to destroy it to prevent detection.

Sommers lectured him roundly upon this exhibition of weakness, and, after a time spent in friendly advice, he succeeded in rea.s.suring him.

Bucholz related to him at this interview a dream which he said he had the evening before. He had seen the court a.s.sembled--the room was filled with people and his trial was going on. Then, stopping suddenly in his narration, he gazed wildly at his companion, and exclaimed:

"If you are a detective, you have made a nice catch this time. But, you see I have a steady hand yet, and if you were to take the stand against me, I would rise in my place and denounce you to the court.

Then I would plunge a knife into my heart."

The detective looked unflinchingly and scornfully into the glaring eyes of the man before him, and laughed lightly at his ravings. He resolved, however, in order to prevent accidents, that every precaution should be taken against the occurrence of such a scene.

He had no fear that Bucholz would do what he threatened. At heart he knew the man to be a coward. No one who could stealthily creep behind his unsuspecting victim and deal the deadly blow of an a.s.sa.s.sin could, in his opinion, possess the moral courage to face a death by his own hands, and particularly after the failure of this first attempt.

He did not communicate this opinion to the prisoner, but he treated the subject in a jesting manner, and told him that if he heard any more of such nonsense he would inform the prison authorities and his liberty would be curtailed.

He then proceeded to unfold a plan which he had concocted for the relief of his friend, and to manufacture evidence that would bear an important part in the coming trial.

He would procure an old shirt and a pair of pantaloons, which he would first stain with blood, and would then bury them in the ground near to the scene of the murder, and would then write an anonymous letter to the State's attorney and to the counsel for Bucholz, informing them of the place where they could be found.

The prisoner eagerly accepted this suggestion. He seemed to forget his pain, his fears and his suspicions as he listened, and when Sommers had concluded he laughed heartily, then he added, hurriedly:

"You must get an axe also, and bury that with the clothes; that was----"

He stopped abruptly, as though afraid of saying too much, and Sommers looked inquiringly into his face.

"How would it do to get the axe from the barn?" he asked; "the one that had blood on it when it was found."

"That was chickens' blood," quickly replied Bucholz, "and it will not do. No, you must get an old axe from some other place and bury it with the clothes."

Sommers promised to comply with all these things, and on leaving the prisoner for that day his frame of mind had considerably improved, and thoughts of a suspicious character were entirely dissipated.

The anonymous letters were soon prepared, and it was arranged that they should be sent to San Francisco, Cal., and be remailed from there to Mr. Olmstead and to the counsel for William Bucholz.

I experienced no difficulty in arranging this, as I have correspondents in almost every town and city in the United States; and the letters were upon the way to that distant Western city in a few days.

The letter was as follows:

"FRISCO, AUG., '79.

"I AM NOW OUT OF REACH OF JUSTICE, AND WILL NOT SUFFER THAT A INNOCENT MAN IS HELT FOR THE MURTER OF SCHULTE, AND VILL NOW STADE WERE THE CLOTHES AND BOCKET BOOKS WERE TROWN. U MAY FIND MORE BY SEARGEN THE GROUND, ABOUT TWO HUNDRED YARDS FROM WHERE SCHULTE WAS KILLED THERE IS A STONE FENCE RUNNING N. AND S. AND ONE RUNNING W., WERE THESE FENCES JOIN THERE IS A TREE CUT DOWN, AND U FIND BETWEEN THE STONES, AND IN THE GROUND SOMETHING THAT WILL SURPRISE U. I HOPE THIS WILL SAVE THE LIFE OF A INNOCENT MAN.

"NAMELESS."

It was printed in capitals and purposely misspelled, in order to convey the impression that the writer was a foreigner, and perhaps a tramp--many of which had infested that neighborhood.

This letter pleased Bucholz immensely. It was, in his opinion, a wonderful production, and must certainly result in deceiving the State's attorney.

Mr. Bollman had now returned from Germany, and his errand had been entirely successful. He had seen the relatives of Bucholz, and they had promised to aid him financially in his trouble. Further than this, they seemed to take no great interest in his welfare. Shortly after his arrival a draft was received, which, upon being cashed, placed in the hands of the prisoner sufficient moneys to enable him to secure the services of the additional counsel who had been loath to act energetically in the matter, until the question of remuneration had been definitely and satisfactorily settled.

In order to recover the amount loaned to Bucholz for Mr. Bollman's expenses, Sommers suggested that in order to avoid any suspicion, he would demand of him the return of the same, and which he would inform Mr. Bollman his friend was greatly in need of.

Mr. Bollman thereupon repaid two hundred and fifty dollars of the amount loaned, and Bucholz executed another due-bill for the sum of one hundred dollars, payable to Edward Sommers.

Shortly after this occurrence Bucholz informed Sommers on the occasion of one of his visits that on the day previous he had been visited by two of his attorneys.

They had labored a.s.siduously to induce him to confess as to the relations existing between himself and Sommers. They told him that if he had made any revelations to him it might not yet be too late to counteract it, but if he refused to tell them the truth in regard to the matter they could not and would not be answerable for the consequences. General Smith graphically portrayed to him the effects which would follow a failure to confide entirely in his counsel, and Bucholz's frame shook perceptibly as he pictured the doom which would certainly follow if his attorneys had been deceived.

But all their arguments were of no avail. He remained firm, and protested to the last that Sommers knew nothing about his case. The iron will upheld him during this ordeal, and the influence which the detective had gained over him had been of such a character as to outweigh the solicitations of those to whom he ought to look for relief on the trial that was now fast approaching.

How far again the question of self-interest may have induced this action cannot be ascertained. Bucholz had been led to believe that if he communicated the existence of the money which he had secured, to his lawyers, and if they should succeed in obtaining control of it, his portion would be very small indeed, after they had paid themselves therefrom.

This idea may have been of sufficient weight to compel his silence, but the result--whatever the cause--proved that the detective had achieved a victory over the attorneys, and that he wielded an influence over their guilty client which they could never hope to possess.

CHAPTER XXIX.