At the close of the month McKenna met Yellow Jack Donahue, who gave out that he had nearly given up the Major job, for the present, and feared his vengeance might fail of accomplishment, from treachery, some person evidently having warned the Majors, as they no longer worked in their accustomed places and were shy of going abralone at night. He suspected John Slattery, who knew of the preparations made to kill Thomas and the Majors, as the one giving them notice. In any event, he would not wholly throw it up, only hold the matter back until a favorable opportunity occurred. Donahue was by no means complimentary of the men composing his division, saying there was not one in the number to be trusted with an important transaction. He expressed himself freely regarding the affair Alex. Campbell was trying to accomplish, wisely concluding that he was quite foolhardy about it, too short a time having elapsed since the Tamaqua murder. The breeze that stroke had started should be allowed to subside before entering upon any fresh undertaking.
403During this interview, the operative received from Donahue the fact, confidentially communicated, that it was himself, the redoubtable "Yellow Jack," who shot Morgan Powell, the circumstances attending which assassination have already been related in these pages. The deed was done at Summit Hill, December the second, 1871, and in it Donahue was assisted by two men, whose names he did not give. He said their escape, after the shooting, was very easy, as they did not go ten yards from the spot where Powell dropped, until the excitement cooled down, when, in the darkness, they quietly departed for the bush, soon reaching their homes in safety. The detective made mental note of this disclosure, his subsequently written report throwing the first true flood of light upon a dark crime, which had, for four years, baffled the best efforts of the officers of justice. He wrote all about the conversation to the Agency, that night. It was not politic to press Donahue for a description of his accomplices, but from points he had already gathered, McParlan suspected Campbell and the McKennas were at least interested. Donahue made himself very friendly with the agent, praised him highly for the part he had taken, as he supposed, in the Thomas matter; invited him to his house, and, as he took his departure, swore that "those Majors should yet come to their graves, even though he had to draw a bead on them, bowldly, in open daylight!"
In Carroll's saloon, the same night, my representative chanced upon an old friend, Dan Kelly, known to be Manus Kull; alias "Kelly the Bum," a hard case then as now, and open for almost anything outrageous. About every crime in the great catalogue had been charged upon him, but he was not understood as possessing a noticeably bad character previous to attaching himself to the Mollie organization. In the same company at Carroll's were James, or Friday O'Donnell, and Kerrigan. The latter took early occasion to tell McKenna he should "keep quiet about the Tamaqua 404matter, as these fellows were too soft to intrust with anything connected with so serious a subject." He promised to obey, and upon that topic consequently remained silent. The men were engaged in a wild debauch, and all more or less mellow, but they took good care to have every outsider away from the room before the Summit affair came up for discussion. It was the intention to put some boss off his pins, and Kerrigan volunteered to walk to Mt. Laffee and find some men to accompany a detail of his own, so that the job might be concluded about the middle of the week. Who the party was the agent did not then learn.
While escorting Kerrigan to his home, late that night, McKenna noticed he was being clumsily shadowed by Barney McCarron, who, although very drunk himself, acted as though he had a half-formed idea in his thick pate that Kerrigan and McKenna were hatching some mischief, and therefore sought to throw himself in their way, to learn the particular business they were engaged upon. But his amateur detective work was done so awkwardly that Kerrigan quickly saw through it. Then the two Mollies made up a game to put the policeman to more trouble, and they led him a wild-goose chase. Late at night, McKenna, still blunderingly traced by McCarron, came to a halt at the Columbia House. He found the doors all fastened and no porter up to admit him. Just then McCarron came along.
"What are you trying to do?" asked the hiccoughing and worn-out policeman.
"Bedad, but I'm sakin' for an admission to me boardin'-house!" responded McKenna.
"Yes," put in Kerrigan, "he's shut out enthirely, an' how he'll get within, is the question! It wor different wid me, when I wor in the lock-up! I wanted a way out! He wants a way in!"
McCarron laughed, and suggested that McKenna might try a window.
405"Perhaps some of them may be unfastened!"
"No! I prefer you'd do that job for me!" answered the agent, staggering and leaning against the side of the house. "You know you are an officer, an' can safely go in! If I wor to do so, perhaps you'd jist arrest an' take me to jail for an attempted burglary!"
Notwithstanding McCarron's repeated assurances that he would do no such thing, McKenna refused to touch a single shutter, or sash, and finally prevailed upon the policeman to seek entrance to his hotel through a casement and then unlock the front door for him. Kerrigan and the detective enjoyed the fun, beholding the unsteady efforts the drunken watchman made, raising the window and then ungracefully climbing into the house. But they soon gained entrance and went upstairs, after lighting a candle at the office counter, McCarron still following, Kerrigan noiselessly bringing up the rear. Once in McKenna's apartment, the policeman was offered a chair and Kerrigan told that he could go. The Bodymaster obeyed. And then McCarron set about the task of extracting information from McKenna regarding the Yost murder. The detective was acting the part of a drunken man to perfection, while McCarron was really much intoxicated, but trying to appear very wise and sober. Taking the flaring candle in his hand, he got down on his knees and endeavored, with an owlish assumption of superior intelligence, quite ridiculous in him at any time, to explain to his only auditor precisely how and where certain acts had been done, the night of the murder, illustrating his meaning by pointing out with uncertain finger, on the irregular figures of the carpet, an imaginary map of the locality and the proceedings. It was as much as the operative could possibly do to refrain from laughing in McCarron's face, to see the style in which he performed this part of his unaccustomed work. Meanwhile McCarron was trying his best to gain intelligence from his companion. He succeeded indifferently, 406as McKenna was, to all appearances, as ignorant as the man in the moon of everything connected with the Mollies. When the policeman had nearly spoiled the bedroom carpet with the melted tallow constantly dropping from his migratory candle, and exhausted himself in making drawings of the Yost matter, giving the position he occupied, and the places in which the murderers stood, over and over again, McKenna put a stop to the proceedings by politely asking the fellow to leave, as he wanted to obtain a little sleep before morning.
Seeing that he could gain nothing by his extraordinary efforts at "roping," the drunken guardian of the peace, after a while, took the hint and went stumbling down the staircase, muttering to himself about the "ignorance of some people." He had been unable to impose upon McKenna, and flattered himself that it was because of that person's stupidity. There was stupidity in the business, but it was in McCarron, not with McKenna.
The Sunday following, after visiting church, in the forenoon, with Miss Higgins, and subsequently taking her a pleasant evening's walk, the agent met Kerrigan again at Carroll's, and the pair went to the scene of the Yost murder together, the Bodymaster designating the vicinities which McCarron, on a previous occasion, had tried so hard to explain to the operative. Kerrigan marked the very spot on which McGehan and Boyle had stood, under the shadow of the trees, where he was waiting, armed only with a stone, to put in work if found necessary, then to lead the men away after their job was done, and gave him other information of great importance. He said that he, Kerrigan, was wearing the same pantaloons he had on the night of the murder only they were industriously patched by his wife. He ruptured them badly, running in the bush, and, the next morning, was asked by Mrs. Kerrigan how the holes were made. She was satisfied when he told her he fell down the bank by the house and nearly killed himself.
407A little later, Kerrigan took a seat, near the Odd Fellows' Cemetery, on some rocks, and proceeded to dwell upon his own fortunes and those of some of his friends. The "babe," according to his own story, was born in Schuylkill County; had received no education, no schooling, in fact, since he was an infant; had been successively a coal-picker, a miner, and, during the late war, a soldier, in the cavalry branch of the service, under gallant Phil Sheridan. As to McGehan, he said he hailed from Donegal, Ireland, but had been partly reared in America. Alex. Campbell, reported the same historian, was married, and had a family, his wife being also a native of Donegal.
It was well toward morning when the two Mollies separated.
A meeting of the agent and Alex. Campbell, transpiring at Carroll's saloon, the fourth day of August, was productive of interesting results. The Summit Hill tavern-keeper and former Bodymaster zealously recommended McGehan as one of the best men in the country, and was happy to see that Hugh and Mulhall had found work at Tuscarora. He said, boastingly, that as soon as he could go to Mauch Chunk, for the necessary license, he proposed to set McGehan up in a saloon of his own, McKenna, Kerrigan, and Carroll being warmly pressed to honor the opening with their presence, which all promised. Then, stepping aside a little, Campbell let out to the detective more than he had ever before said:
"It was McGehan, himself, who fired the shot that killed Yost! Boyle was along, it is true, but McGehan's shot finished the business and the other did not have to discharge his pistol at all!"
This remark, coupled with the facts he had already obtained from Mike McKenna, Kerrigan, and Carroll, firmly convinced the inquirer there could be no mistake about the matter. The murderers of Yost were found. But where was 408the testimony with which to convict them, in the face of the omnipresent alibi? He did not despair of even ferreting out that, before finishing the good work. It was Campbell who had sent McNellis to Tamaqua, notifying Kerrigan he should stay at home the night fixed for the killing of some unsuspecting boss, as McGehan and Mulhall had that day chanced to return to Storm Hill.
Subsequent to the departure of Campbell for his home, McKenna took the saloon-keeper away from the house a little and said:
"Jim Carroll, you thought I didn't know who it wor that knocked Yost off his two feet!"
"I knew d——d well that you did know!" was Carroll's laconic return.
"Well, I don't blame ye at all for kapin' a tight rein on yer tongue! I'd ha' done the same, meself, had I been in your pair o' boots!"
"That's all right!" continued Carroll. "It was a mighty good thing, an' McGehan is the fellow for a clane job! Mulhall was in for it, with him, but some objected because he was a man of family, so Boyle took his place. I wanted to have it put off, when I saw McCarron and Yost come past here, in company, an' told the men to seek a better chance, another day, but McGehan said he'd been over here three times to do it, and he would not brook further delay. So they went and did it!"
"An' did it nately and aisily, too?" suggested McKenna.
Mrs. Carroll had her suspicions aroused, during the visit, that McKenna was a Mollie, and so informed her husband She thought he could not be so intimate with Jack Donahue, talking by the hour with him in the back yard, and with Jimmy Kerrigan, and remain only an outsider. She also accused Carroll of forming one of the order, but he laughed, and said: "You know better! What's the use of charging such a thing on me?" Yet he was Secretary of the division 409at the very time. This answer did not change Mrs. Carroll's mind. But she was too discreet and true a wife to disclose her thoughts on the subject to every one.
The same night Kerrigan was more than usually communicative, and related to the agent all about a trick he and Carroll were to play, in stealing a lot of hams, and a new copper boiler, out of the Columbia House cellar. The operative made up his mind the landlord should not be robbed, but said nothing. The attempt was subsequently made and some things carried off, but they had to be returned.
While the Bodymaster was in a talking humor, McKenna carelessly inquired:
"Now what about that Summit job?"
"Oh, that's put off until the latter part of the month!" And Kerrigan sighed, and seemed to greatly regret the delay.
"Is it Zehner, or Jones, this time?"
"Jones, av coorse!" was the response. "An' it has to be done by daylight too, as he is a workin' boss! I am not sure, yet, where he will be caught!"
The sending of this report to Mr. Franklin, the detective very well knew, would cause the party threatened to receive notification of the danger he was in. The important missive was written and mailed before he slept.
Thursday, the fifth, occurred the funeral of John Dowling, one of the oldest members of the Ancient Order of Hibernians, otherwise the Mollie Maguires, in the State, and, as many were to come to Tamaqua from Shenandoah, McKenna suffered a convenient return of rheumatism, so he said, and kept his room, in consequence, all the day. None of his old companions sought him out, excepting Frank McAndrew, and he visited the Columbia House, was shown to his friend's apartment, and had a long visit with him. The Shenandoah Bodymaster had heard that McKenna was suspected of complicity with the Yost murder, and soberly warned him to have a care for himself, which advice the agent received 410with a hearty laugh, saying, as he was innocent, he "didn't care a snap of his fingers what people thought!" He expressed himself as heartily tired of hiding so closely from the Buffalo detectives, and, but for a second letter, which he had just received from his sister, saying the men were still hanging around her house, he would emerge from his cover, return to Shenandoah at once, and resume his old occupations and amusements. As it was, he hoped soon to hear that the New York officials were starting off for Canada, on a false scent, when he would certainly hasten homeward.
"Ye can't be too careful, me boy!" was the admonition with which McAndrew separated from his Secretary.
It was at the saloon and beer garden of Conrad Iffland, on BrStreet, Tamaqua, that Linden and McKenna now met to talk over the operation and arrange all their movements. Mrs. Iffland was a good-natured German lady, generously patronized by her countrymen and other lovers of lager-beer, and she gave no particular attention to the detectives—hearing from her husband that Linden was all correct—as long as they paid for their refreshments. When McKenna appeared on the streets with a peculiarly ugly hat, or made a particular gesture with his hand, Linden knew they were to meet at Iffland's immediately. A similar sign with the hand of Linden taught the same lesson to McKenna. On the seventeenth of August, 1875, the two men held a very important conversation at Mrs. Iffland's, and made preparations, subsequently carried out, to meet Campbell, McGehan, Boyle, and others, if possible, at Mauch Chunk, where Campbell was to go to make application for McGehan's license. Linden then assumed the rle of the toper to perfection, and was finally invited by Campbell to join the company, slightly opposed by McKenna, who claimed Linden was only a stranger who had accosted him near his hotel, inquiring the way to the Mansion House. In this manner Linden learned the faces of the men and 411something of their habits and conversation. Conrad Iffland had no knowledge of McKenna's business, nor had his spouse, but both believed him to be the wickedest Mollie Maguire in Schuylkill County. As long as he was in Linden's society they tolerated him. Alone, or with Kerrigan, they would have turned him promptly away from their door. Knowing this, the operative never attempted an entrance, excepting he found that Linden was in the neighborhood.
It was not until the eighth of August, that McKenna made his reappearance in Shenandoah, and then remained but a short time. He was warmly greeted by his old-time associates, Morris, Hurley, and McAndrew, who said they had heard that the agent and the rest were to be arraigned for the attack upon Wm. M. Thomas. At least they feared preparations were being made for their apprehension. He soon quieted their suspicions, saying there was no testimony, and, if the contrary were true, they could easily prove an alibi.
The monthly meeting of the division was held, McKenna acting as Secretary, as usual. While in the company of his friends, he thought it strange he heard nothing more of the Gomer James affair, but concluded the feud had subsided and the Welshman was to be allowed to live in peace in the community. How sadly he was deceived the sequel may show.
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