St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1891-12-17
MISCELLANY.
A DETECTIVES STORY.

Two men sat in a secluded lobby
last night and enjoyed a quiet chat
over their after-dinner cigars. That
was not a remarkable fact; but one
of the men is one of the best-known
members in his profession. and if he
were inclined to tell history of his
interesting experience 1T would NIL
volumes. The smOoth-shaven gen
tleman with the quiet demeanor is
one of the keenest Of criminal catch
ers, G. M. Fletcher of Chicago. Mr..
Fletcher is not on a thief-hunting ex
petition this time, but he related
what he calls the strangest and luck
lest piece of trailing in his line, and
the end of the trail was in Washing
ton, "although," says Mr.. Fletcher,
1T was only luck on my part that 1t
did"
Fifteen years ago, in the early fall
of 1876, wealthy old farmer named
Wilson was found murdered just out
side his house near Evanston, Ill.
The old man had that day concluded
the sale of piece of property, and
was returning with nearly $4,000 in
his pocket, as it was growing dark,
the cash having been paid over after
banking hours in Evanston, and
Wilson uncautiously allowed the re-
mark to drop that he wished he had
not made the sale until next day.
He did not like the idea of carrying
so much wealth to his home, five
miles distant These facts, besides
the murder itself, and the knowledge
that a notorious gambler named Ed
Dr-6
were all the clue offered the detec
tives, who were set to work on the
case with a reward of $4,000 held
out as an inducement for running
down the murderer or murdererS.
Months passed, but no further trace
of the gambler who was suspected
could be found anywhere.
During the early spring of 1877
Fletcher was sent East on a mission
by the agency of which he is a mem
Der, and in the course of his trip con-
Guided to spend a day or two in
Washington before returning to the
Lake City. While passing up Penn
sylvania avenue, near Sixth street,
with friend, his attention was at
tracted to a small visiting card,
which, after the manner of his pro-
fession, he picked up and examined.
Il wasn't thinking of business just
then" said Mr.. Fletcher, but | sup
pose instinct led me to do as | did,
and wha do you suppose that paste
board contained? The autograph
of the very man | had been looking
for for months OF course the sigma
ture was not familiar to me, but the
first thought to suggest itself was.
How did the card get there?' and |
could answer it only one way-Ed-
monson had dropped it-but how
did he happen to retain the same
name. if he was guilty, unless he did
not fear detection? Well, to cut
long story short, l determined to
stay in Washington awhile and see
what could be seen. | found out the
most notable houses where a gam
bier of his type would be likely to
hold forth, and after ten days shad-
owing | found him in an old frame
house on Four-and-a-Half street
Edmonson came with me without a
requisition, and made no fight. In
fact, he was tired of leading a hunt
ed life, and confessed the crime. He
said he always had an idea that the
visiting card would prove his doom,
but somehow or other he could not
destroy it, and knew at once when
he missed it from his case that it
would be a clue, for he had been
travelling uuder an assumed name
since the murder The card was the
last link of his former life
Edmonson was hanged few
months later, and that ended the
most curious episode in my twenty
five years experience as detective"
Il Washington Post.