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  JIM CUMMINGS

  OR

  THE GREAT ADAMS EXPRESS ROBBERY

  With a portrait of the notorious Jim Cummings and illustrations ofscenes connected with the great robbery

  By Frank Pinkerton

  Vol. I, March 1887. The Pinkerton Detective Series, issued monthly, bysubscription, $3.00 per annum.

  Chicago

  CHAPTER I.

  THE CONSPIRATORS--THE FORGED LETTER--THE PLAN.

  In the rear room of a small frame building, the front of which wasoccupied as a coal office, located on West Lake street, Chicago, threemen were seated around a square pine table. The curtains of the windowwere not only drawn inside, but the heavy shutters were closed on theoutside. A blanket was nailed over the only door of the room, and everything and every action showed that great secrecy was a most importantfactor of the assembly.

  The large argand burner of a student's lamp filled the small room withits white, strong light, The table was covered with railroadtime-tables, maps, bits of paper, on which were written two names agreat number of times, and pens of different makes and widths of pointwere scattered amidst the papers.

  One man, a large, powerfully-built fellow, deep-chested, andlong-limbed, was occupied in writing, again and again, the name of"J.B. Barrett." He had covered sheet after sheet with the name, lookingfirst at a letter before him, but was still far from satisfied. "Damn aman who will make his 'J's' in such a heathenish way."

  "Try it again, Wittrock," said one of his companions.

  "Curse you," shouted the man called Wittrock. "How often must I tellyou not to call me that name. By God, I'll bore a hole through you yet,d'ye mind, now."

  "Oh, no harm been done, Cummings; no need of your flying in such a stewfor nothing. We're all in the same box here, eh?"

  "Well, you be more careful hereafter," said "Cummings," and again hebent to his laborious task of forging the name of "J.B. Barrett."

  Nothing was heard for half an hour but the scratching of the pen, orthe muttered curses of Cummings (as he was called).

  Suddenly he threw down his pen with a laugh of triumph, and holding apiece of paper before him, exclaimed: "There, lads, there it is;there's the key that will unlock a little mint for us."

  Throwing himself back in his chair, he drew a cigar from his pocket,and, lighting it, listened with great satisfaction to the words ofpraise uttered by his companions as they compared the forged with thegenuine signature.

  These three men were on the eve of a desperate enterprise. For monthsthey had been planning and working together, and the time for actionwas rapidly approaching.

  The one called "Cummings," the leader, was apparently, the youngest oneof the three. There was nothing in his face to denote the criminal. Astranger looking at him, would imagine him to be a good-natured, jovialchap, a little shrewd perhaps, but fond of a good dinner, a good drink,a good cigar, and nothing else.

  One of his colleagues, whom he called "Roe," evidently an alias, wassmaller in size, but had a determined expression on his face, thatshowed him to be a man who would take a desperate chance if necessary.

  The third man, called sometimes Weaver, and sometimes Williams, was thesmallest one of the conspirators, and also the eldest. His frame,though small, was compact and muscular, but his face lacked both thedetermination of Roe and the frank, open expression of Cummings.

  After scrutinizing the forgery for a time, Roe returned it to Cummingsand said, "Jim, who has the run out on the Frisco when you make theplant?"

  "A fellow named Fotheringham, a big chap, too. I was going to lay forthe other messenger, Hart, who is a small man, and could be easilyhandled, but he has the day run now."

  "This Fotheringham will have to be a dandy if he can tell whetherBarrett has written this or not, eh, Jim?"

  "Aye, that he will. Let me once get in that car, and if the letterdon't work, I'll give him a taste of the barker."

  "No shooting, Jim, no shooting, I swear to God I'll back out if youspill a drop of blood."

  Jim's eyes glittered, and he hissed between his teeth:

  "You back out, Roe, and you'll see some shooting."

  Roe laughed a nervous laugh, and said, as he pushed some blankletter-heads toward Cummings, "Who's goin' to back out, only I don'tlike the idea of shooting a man, even to get the plunder. Here's theAdam's Express letter-heads I got to-day. Try your hand on the letter."

  Cummings, somewhat pacified, with careful and laborious strokes of thepen, wrote as follows:

  "SPRINGFIELD, Mo., October 24th, '86.

  MESSENGER, TRAIN No. 3, ST. L & ST. F. RTE:

  DR. SIR: You will let the bearer, John Broson, Ride in your car toPeirce, and give him all the Instructions that you can. Yours,

  J.B. Barrett, R.A."

  "Hit it the first time. Look at that Roe; cast your eye on that elegantbit of literature, Weaver," and Cummings, greatly excited, paced up anddown the room, whistling, and indulging in other signs of hugegratification.

  "Well done, Jim, well done. Now write the other one, and we'll go andlicker up."

  Again Cummings picked up his facile pen, and was soon successful inwriting the following letter, purporting to be from this same J. B.Barrett.

  "SPRINGFIELD, Mo., Oct. 21, '86.

  "JOHN BRONSON, Esq., St. Louis, Mo.

  "DR. SIR: Come at once to Peirce City by train No. 3, leaving St. Louis8:25 p.m. Inclosed find note to messenger on the train, which you canuse for a pass in case you see Mr. Damsel in time. Agent at Peirce Citywill instruct you further.

  "Respectfully, J. B. BARRETT, R. A."

  Jim drew a long, deep sigh of relief as he muttered:

  "Half the work is done; half the work is done."

  Drawing the railroad map of the Chicago & Alton road toward him, he putthe pen point on St. Louis, and slowing following the St. L. & S. F.Division, paused at Kirkwood.

  "Roe, here's the place I shall tackle this messenger. It is ratherclose to St. Louis, but it's down grade and the train will be makingfast time. She stops at Pacific--here, and we will jump the trainthere, strike for the river, and paddle down to the K. & S. W. You mustjump on at the crossing near the limits, plug the bell cord so thedamned messenger can't pull the rope on me, and I will have him foul."

  Roe listened attentively to these instructions, nodding his head slowlyseveral times to express his approval, and said:

  "When will we go down?"

  Jim Cummings, looking at the time-table, answered:

  "This is--what date is this, Weaver?"

  "October 11th."

  "Two weeks from to-day will be the 25th. That is on--let's see, that isTuesday."

  "Two weeks from to-day, Roe, you will have to take the train at St.Louis; get your ticket to Kirkwood. I see by this time-table that No. 3does stop there. When you get off, run ahead, plug the bell-cord, and Iwill wait till she gets up speed after leaving Kirkwood before I drawmy deposit."

  Thus did these three men plan a robbery that was to mulct the AdamsExpress Company of $100,000, baffle the renowned Pinkertons for weeksand excite universal admiration for its boldness, skill, andcompleteness.

  The papers upon which Cummings had exercised his skill, were torn intolittle bits, the time-tables and maps were folded and placed in coatpockets, the lamp extinguished, and three men were soon strolling downLake street as calmly as if they had no other object than to saunterinto their favorite bar-room, and toss off a social drink or two.