_ - 1
Avenging of Joseph Dain
-I By GEO. T. PARDY I
John Wilson Murray in a New Sort of Case.
N a cold, dark winter's
night in March, 187-5,
two men stole quietly
along in the black shadow
of the house walls in
Yonge street. Toronto,
Canada. Each of the mid
night prowlers took an op
posite side of the thor
oughfare. They slipped
swiftly and softly out to
the corner of Bloor street
where the city limits end
ed in those days.
On a corner of Yonge and Bloor
streets lived the Dalns, rich drovers
and butchers. The family consisted of
Mrs. Dain and her three sons, Joseph,
James and Major. The latter were
wealthy business men and carried
large' sums of money on their persons
for cattle buying.
Upstairs Joseph Dain was sleeping
soundly in his room, his trousers ly
ing on the chair beside his bed. A
slight noise, a faint creaking, awoke
mm rrom slumber and he opened his
eyes to see a tall figure dimly percep
tible in the gloam, standing beside
his bed, rifling the pockets of his
trousers in which he had a . large
amount of money. A powerful, active
man of fearless disposition, Dain was
quick to realize the situation and act
on his first impulse. Springing from
the bed he clinched with the intrud
er and a short but desperate grapple
followed. Exerting all his strength
the robber broke away and fled down
the stairs with Dain in hot pursuit.
The waiting man swung the door
wide open to allow his partner free
egress, slammed it shut again in
Dain’s face, and the two burglars sped
out through the darkness, separating
as they fled and running in opposite
directions.
Heedless of the menacing challenge
Dain sprang toward the speaker, when
a shot rang through the frozen air,
and he reeled and fell to the ground
with a bullet in his abdomen. Pocket
ing the smoking weapon the burglar
resumed his former pace, and passed
out of sight.
In the meantime he who had stood
as sentry on the outside of the house
had run swiftly across Yonge street.
Fate willed that he should trip over
the extra overcoat he was carrying
and fall headlong. Before he could
regain his feet he was seized by a
passing baker on his way to work,
who held him until a policeman made
his appearance on the scene and took
the captured burglar to the lockup.
Dain was carried indoors, attended to
by surgeons and rallied considerably
after the operation, although it was
not expected that he would recover
from the effects of his terrible wound.
The officer selected by the Toronto
authorities for the task of running
down Dain’s murderous assailant was
John Wilson Murray, formerly of the
United State secret service force and
now in the employ of the Canadian
government. Murray’s first step was
to visit the captured burglar in the
lockup. His wide experience in the
criminal world stood him in good
stead, for at the first glance he recog
nized the prisoner as Charles Leavitt,
a desperate American burglar and
thief. Buffalo was his home town, but
the police there knew him so well that
he seldom dared to visit the place.
Looking carefully over the overcoat
found in the captive’s possession,
Murray discovered the mark of a
Cleveland tailor.
question, and looking up Leavitt’s
American record found that one of
his intimate friends was Frank
Meagher of Cleveland, a skilled burg
lar, clever crook and one of the ablest
and worst “rough ones” at large.
Leavitt was tried, convicted and
sentenced to Kingston penitentiary
for life. He submitted doggedly to
his fate and sternly refused to give
any information which might have led
to the arrest of his comrade. Dain did
not die immediately, but lived over
one year and a day. According to
English and Canadian law, a man can
not be convicted of murder and
hanged if his victim lives for one
year and one day after the crime is
committed. Dain dragged out a lin
gering existence of agony for a couple
of months over the year and then
died. Hernia resulted from the bullet
wound in his abdomen and finally
killed him. Under the circumstances
Meagher, if found, could be punished,
but would not suffer the extreme pen
alty of the law.
Arriving in Indianapolis, Murray
visited the penitentiary in company
with Detective Muncie of Cleveland,
who knew Meagher well, and they
identified Armstrong as Meagher,
thus making assurance doubly sure.
The next step was to arrange for the
removal of Meagher to Canada. Mur
ray went to Terre Haute and secured
the services of Daniel Voorhees of
that city, one of the best criminal law
yers in the Hoosier state. He in
formed Voorhees that the state of In
diana had a criminal serving a sen
tence for a crime committed subse
quent to the commission of a far
graver crime in Canada, and that he
wanted to take him back at once to
pay the penalty of his prior deed.
Voorhees took the case and accom
panied Murray to Indianapolis, where
a fine point of law had to be argued.
The prisoner was in the Indian
. anolis Jail, where ho was kept, pend
ing the outcome of the case, and had
been informed of a conditional par
don and the case going against him.
He was what is known as a “bad
man” in every sense of the epithet.
Three times in his career he had es
caped from prison and had shot and
killed a deputy on one occasion. He
had a brother, Charles Meagher of
Cleveland, also a thief, burglar, and
desperate, resourceful crook. He had
many friends; and Frank Meagher,
then a fine looking, well-educated
chap of 28, was highly respected and
much admired among the denizens of
the underworld for his daring and
cleverness.
Murray was certain that the
chances were all in favor of complete
plans having been made to rescue his
man. He had all of his papers rdady
after midnight on June 20, and went
direct to the jail. A train left at 4:35
in the morning and it was Murray’s
intention to get away on it with
Meagher. It was about three in the
morning when he arrived at the jail
he knew an attempt would be made to
rescue him. From the fact that he
had gained possession of a revolver
and club, it was easy to surmise that
some of his friends were scheming to
aid him. He thought of that 4:35
train, and turned to the sheriff.
“Just open that gate,” he said, crisp
ly; “I want to speak to him.”
“Don’t, don’t,” implored the sher
iff. “He’ll kill you sure! Remember,
I warn you.”
Murray looked at him grimly.
“Open that gate,” he said. “I’m go
ing in there.”
Yielding to the power of the other's
determined will, the sheriff threw
open the gate and Murray, without
the slightest trace of nervousness,
stepped inside and walked upstairs.
When he reached the first landing the
prisoner’s voice rang out, sharp, tense
and replete with deadly menace:
“Stop right there, Murray; don’t
you come near me!”
Murray halted. The shining bar
rel of the revolver, gripped in the
man spoke. Murray’s hands were
empty, his revolver lying useless in
his pocket.
The prisoner was first to break the
tension. "Murray,” he said suddenly,
but without shifting his eyes, “I have
no fit clothe^. I’m a gentleman, and
I won't go to Canada looking like a
pauper.”
Murray smiled languidly. "The sher
iff has a suit of clothes for you,
Frank,” he said. "It's a pretty fair
suit, but if it isn’t good enough, I’ll
wait until you get one.”
A look of satisfaction crossed
Meagher's stern features. Murray,
watching him, knew that he was play
ing for delay, and became more than
ever determined to take him on that
4:35 train. Meagher leaned forward
and hurled a torrent of insulting oaths
at Detective Muncie, possibly hoping
that he might create a diversion by
picking a quarrel with the Cleveland
officer. Muncie made no reply, and
the prisoner again turned his atten
tion to Murray.
“I’ve got nothing against you, Mur
ray,” he said. “But don’t come a step
nearer me.”
Murray reflected. He half turned
his back and sat down on the stair.
If Meagher had looked away for a
moment he could have slipped out his
gun from his pocket. But the prison
er's eye never swerved. Murray
yawned listlessly and turned his back
altogether upon him.
"It's like this, Frank,” he remarked,
quietly. “I don’t want to get hurt any
HURRAY ORDERED MU TO COMT
OlfT TK TTOrtEY WHERE HE STOOD.
accompanied by Detective Lou Mun
cie.
“Mr. Sheriff,” said Murray, “I have
come for Meagher. Here are my pa
pers.”
"I’m afraid we're going to have a
lot of trouble with that fellow,” re
marked the sheriff, who was greatly
excited.
“What’s wrong with Meagher?” in
quired Murray.
“He’s armed, he's got up to the
fourth floor, the top tier of cells, and
says he will kill any one who goes
near him,” responded the sheriff in
agitated accents, wiping the perspira
tion from his forehead. “I tell you
he’s a desperate man, Mr. Murray,
and he’ll keep his word.”
“That’s your business,” said Mur
ray. "Kindly produce the prisoner.”
“Come down, Meagher,” piped the
sheriff, in trembling tones.
Meagher spat viciously and bom
barded the speaker with a volley of
virulent oaths. "Come up here and
get me,” he roareu. "I’ll kill the first
man that sets foot on these stairs.”
“Now you can see how it is for
yourself,” appealed the sheriff to Mur
ray.
“All I know is that there sits Meagh
er and I want him,” replied that in
exorable gentleman. “Here are my
documents, so do your duty.”
The unhappy sheriff, thus caught be
tween the devil and the deep sea,
swore frantically. “I know what my
duty is, all right,” he said pathetically,
“but I ain’t anxious to be shot like a
dog, or see anyone else murdered,
either.”
Murray was losing patience. It was
evident that the sheriff would not try
to get Meagher, and also that the
prisoner was playing for time, and
the purpose of it probably was that
hand of a ruffian whose unerring aim
had sent more than one human soul
to the great Judgment Seat in the
past, was covering him with fatal ac
curacy. The spirit of death was hov
ering in the air.
Murray’s^voice had lost none of its
habitual coolness as he answered the
desperado’s challenge. “There's no
need for getting excited, Frank,” he
said. “I’m not coming up. I just want
to talk to you so that everybody won’t
hear.”?
Meagher had risen to his feet and
stood at the top of the stair, looking
down upon the man just below him.
The sheriff grew' suddenly valorous.
“Come down, Meagher, or I’ll shoot,”
he cried, shrilly.
“Shoot, blast you,” responded
Meagher, vigorously. “I’d rather be
shot here than hung in Canada.”
There was a moment’s silence, and
Murray heard Detective Muncie advis
ing the sheriff to quit making a noise.
“You just shut up, sheriff, and leave
this to me,” shouted Murray. “Frank,”
he continued, addressing the prisoner,
"you know you won’t be hung. Dain
lived over a year. You know you’ve
got to come. You might kill me, but
you’d have to go all the same.”
While speaking, Murray mounted
the steps slowly, until he stood with
in ten feet of Meagher, who pointed
the revolver full in his face.
“Stop!” he commanded, harshly.
“Stay where you are. Don’t move an
inch closer.”
Murray paused and stared unflinch
ingly at the outlaw'. He knew that
never in his life had death loomed
nearer than at that moment. Meagh
er’s eye was cold and hard, yet as it
glared at him he fancied that he could
read something of curiosity in its mur
derous, merciless depths. Neither
more than you do, but I'm not any
more afraid than you are.”
There was no response. Murray’s
mind worked swiftly. The prisoner’s
silence was uncanny. Perhaps he
might shoot or bring the club down
with splintering force on the back of
his head. Still the detective sat, with
out moving, gazing steadily down the
stairs. Finally Meagher spoke soft
ly, almost in a whisper.
“You’re a game fellow, Murray,” he
said. “I’ll not go with Muncie, but
I’ll go with you, if you get me that
suit of clothes.”
He stepped down and surrendered
the club and gun into Murray’s hands,
and they walked side by side into the
office. Meagher spat contemptuously
at the sheriff, swore at Muncie, and
glanced at the clock. It was just four,
and a smile flitted over his face. He
donned the suit of clothes, Murray
slipped the handcuffs on him, and, ac
companied by Muncie, captor and cap
tured entered a closed carriage which
was driven at a gallop to the railroad
station. As the party alighted the
train was making ready to go.
A second carriage drove up, and
from thence alighted Red Jim Car
roll, Joe Dubuque, and two other well
known crooks. Murray and Muncie
hastily boarded the train with their
prisoner between them. As the cars
began to move, a third carriage drove
furiously up to the station, but the
occupants did not emerge, probably
seeing that they had missed the train.
Red Jim Carroll and his three com
panions, however, had climbed aboard
in safety.
Murray's quick eye caught sight of
them entering another car, and he
nudged Muncie with his elbow.
“Did you see those fellows?” he
asked. Muncie nodded.
"There’s going to be trouble,” said
Murray, significantly.
Meagher was wearing leg irons, as
well as handcuffs. Murray placed him
in the middle, and examined the
chambers of his revolver. Muncie al
so inspected his six shooter, and the
two sat awaiting developments.
“You want to remember one thing.
Frank,” said Murray to his prisoner
"If there’s any break made somebody
is going to get killed before we do.”
Meagher did not reply, but a sullen
gleam lit the depths of his somber
eyes. He comprehended the meaning
of the threat and knew that the speak
er would keep his word.
An hour passed. Suddenly the front
door of the car swung open and Red
Jim Carroll entered with his three
companions behind him.
“Halt there, Jim!” came the
brusque order in Murray’s resolute
tones. Carroll stopped and eyed the
threatening muzzles of two revolv
ers. Murray and his companion were
standing erect, alert and threatening.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said
Carroll.
“Are you in search of trouble, Jim?”
demanded Murray.
Carroll grinned. “Not me,” he de
clared. “Will you let me speak to
Frank?”
“You may speak to him from where
you are,” conceded Murray.
Meagher, mindful of Murray's sin
ister threat, remained quietly in his
seat. When his guards first rose to
their feet he had started half up, but
remembering the caution given him
in time, sunk back again. When Car
roll ramp tn a halt at Mnrrav’s rnm
mand the prisoner's face grew black
with rage, and he cursed Red Jim and
the latter’s companions for a set of
cowardly curs. Red Jim’s hand slid
to his pocket, but stopped half way
when Murray ordered him to desist.
“What are you reaching for?” asked
Murray suspiciously.
“I want to pass Frank a couple of
hundred dollars,” was the reply.
“Take your money to hell with you,”
roared Meagher, apparently moved to
a frenzy of rage by the failure of the
pint, to rescue him.
Keeping Red Jim covered, Murray
ordered him to reach no lower than
his breast pocket with his hands, and
to count out the moaey where he
stood. Meagher again shouted that
he would not accept the money of a
cowardly gang of dogs that would
stand by and see a friend dragged
away.
“Sometimes the worst comes to the
worst, Frank,” said Carroll, with an
odd touch of quiet dignity, “and peo
ple can't help themselves. This man
Murray is a gentleman. He’ll take no
advantage of you and give you a fair
show.”
Thus speaking. Red Jim tossed the
money at Murray’s feet. “You'll have
to excuse my not handing it to you,”
he said, apologetically.
“Good-by, Jim,” was Murray's sig
nificant response.
Carroll hesitated, glanced again at
the leveled revolvers, and nodded.
“Good-by, Mr. Murray,” he said.
“Good-by, Frank. Good-by, Mr.
Muncie.”
He backed out of the doorway, pre
ceded by his three pals, and closed
the door. Murray picked up the mon
ey and gave it to his prisoner. Pres
ently the train stopped at a junction,
and when it pulled out again Red Jim
stood on the station platform, waving
a filial good-by.
Murray and his prisoner went
through to Buffalo, thence to Lewis
toil on the Niagara river, and thence
by boat to Toronto. As the steamer
passed old Fort Niagara, at the mouth
of the river, and glided out into Lake
Ontario, Meagher stood on the deck.
The American flag was flying over
Fort Niagara, and Meagher raised his
fettered hands and saluted it.
“Good-by, Old Glory, God bless you,”
he said, earnestly. “I suppose it’s the
last time I shall ever see that flag.
I’d rather I was dying for it than for
what I am.”
He gazed after the flag until it was
a mere speck against the skyline. The
idea that he could still be executed
for killing Dain had taken complete
possession of him, and all his captor’s
assurances to the contrary failed to
cheer him.
1UUUVU U1U |7l 1QUUC1 OaiClJ
in the Toronto jail, where he was held
for trial, Murray realized that it would
be necessary to obtain the evidence
of Meagher’s confederate, Leavitt, in
order to convict the former. Leavitt,
however, was sentenced for life, and,
being dead in the eyes of the law, was
not competent to testify. Murray vis
ited Leavitt at the Kingston peniten
tiary and learned that he yearned for
liberty, and was willing to become, a
witness for the crown. On Murray’s
recommendation, the government
commuted Leavitt’s sentence to ten
years, thereby making him a compe
tent witness.
Leavitt accordingly told the story
of the crime, in court, with the result
that Meagher was sentenced to 18
years in the penitentiary. When
Meagher heard his former ally testify
he stood up and cursed him savagely.
"You traitorous hound,” he said.
“I’ll kill you in this world or the
next.”
Leavitt was pardoned after Meagh
er’s conviction, on Murray’s sugges
tion that he would probably be killed
by some of the other convicts, if com
pelled to associate with them. When
last heard of he was living in Cleve
land, and Meagher's threat of ven
geance was still unfulfilled. But some
day they may meet—and then?
(Copyright, by W. G. Chapman.)
(Copyright in Great Britain.)
Beware of Volubility.
He who knows little soon tells it.—
German proverb
PE-RU-NA
For Cramp* In the Stomach of Six Yearn’
Standing;*
“I was troubled with cramps in the
stomach for six years. 1) ried many
kinds of medicine, also .vas .eated
by three doctors.
“They said that I had nervous r1 ■
pepsia. I took the medicine for
years, then I got sick again and
up all hopes of getting cured.
“I saw a testimonial of a mar. wfio^a
case was similar to mine, being cured
by Peruna, so thought I would give it
a trial. I procured a bottle at once,
and commenced taking it.
“I have taken nineteen bottles, and
am entirely cured. I believe Peruna
is all that is claimed for it.”—Mrs. d.
C. Jamison, 61 Marchant St., Watson
ville, Cal.
NOT A WEIGHT LIFTER.
“Is the baby strong?”
“Well, rather! You know what a
tremendous voice he has?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he lifts that five or sis times
an hour!”
CHILD ATE CUTICURA OINTMENT.
Spread Whole Box of It on Crackers
—Not the Least Injury Resulted.
Cuticura Thus Proven Pure and Sweet.
A New York friend of Cuticura
writes:
"My three year old son and heir,
after being put to bed on a trip across
the Atlantic, investigated the state
room and located a box of graham
crackers and a box of Cuticura Oint
ment. When a search was made for
the box. it was found empty and the
kid admitted that he had eaten the
contents of the entire box spread on
the crackers. It cured him of a bad
cold and I don’t know what else.”
No more conclusive evidence could
be offered that every ingredient of Cu
ticura Ointment is absolutely pure,
sweet and harmless. If it may be
safely eaten by a young child, none but
the most beneficial results can be ex
pected to attend its applicath to
pected to attend it's application ■>-en
the tenderest skin or youngest it.
Potter I>ruu & Chem. Corp., 8o!e Props. jn.
A Dubious Tribute.
The young theological stude who
had been supplying the Rush , pul
pit for two Sundays looked w tfully
at Mrs. Kingman, his hostess/jr the
time being. "Did you like the ermon
this morning, if I may ask?” he in
quired.
“You done real well with the material
you selected,” said Airs. Kingman,
with much cordiality. “As I said to
Zenas on the way home, Tve heard a
dozen or more sermons preached on
that text, and this young man's. the
first one that ever made me realize
how difficult 'twas to explain.’ ”—
Youth’s Companion.
The Strenuous Blanche.
One of Blanche Bates' most intimate
friends is telling a rather funny story
about this clever actress.
“She came into my house one even
ing very much excited, and I said to
her: ‘Blanche, for heaven’s sake, what
is the matter? You seem to be all
gone to pieces.’
“ ‘Matter enough,’ she answered, as
her voice shook with anger. ‘I have
been accosted by a man in the
streets.’
“‘What did you do?' I asked.
" ‘T hauled off and hit him in the
face,’ she answered, 'and I said to
him: "You dirty dog, would you speak
to a defenseless woman?” ’
" 'And where was he when you said
this?' I again inquired.
“ 'Rolling in the gutter where he
fell when I hit him,' she said, in a
surprised tone at my question.”—To
ledo.
SISTER'S TRICK
But It All came Out Rignt.
How a sister played a trick that
brought rosy health to a coffee fiend is
an interesting tale:
"I was a coffee fiend—a trembling,
nervous, physical wreck, yet clinging
to the poison that stole away my
strength. I mocked at Posturn and
would have none of it.
“One day my sister substituted a, t>
cup of Postum piping hot for my morn
ing cup of coffee but did not tel! me
what it was. I noticed the richness of
i! and remarked lha? the coffee tasted
fine but my sister did not tell me
1 was drinking Postum for fear I might
not take any more.
“She kept the secret and kept giv
ing me Postum instead of coffee until
I grew stronger, more tireless, gfit a
better color in my sallow cheeks aid
a clearness to niv eyes, then she told
me of the health-giving, nerve
strengthening life-saver she had given
me in place of my morning coffee.
Froftn that time I became a disciple °f
Postum and no words can do justice
in telling the good this cereal drink
did me. 1 will not try to tel! it, f°r
only after having used it can one^be
convinced of its merits.”
Ton days' trial shows Postum's pow
er to rebuild what coffee has de
stroyed. “There’s a ReasoD."
Look in pkgs. for the famous fit 0
book. “The Road to Wellville.'
Ever renil the above letter? ^
e n|i|>enrM from time to "mj-- •
e genuine, true, ..ml full of buuiau