Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in SolitudeBidwell, Austin
General
Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
Bidwell, Austin
Bank fraud -- England; Bank of England; Bidwell, Austin; Criminals -- Biography
"'We soon found the constable sent from Clonmel, who said you had
disappeared into the fort, where a friend must have concealed you, and
that you must be there still. He then took us to the fort, which was
closed for the night. As soon as my eyes lighted on the ruined cottages
I asked him if he had searched them and received an answer in the
negative. "Why," said he, "they are, as you see, all open to the day,
without roof, doors or windows, and no one would think of hiding in
them." "You are a fool," I replied. "Give me your lamp and come with
me." After a look around and seeing how easily any person could stand in
a corner out of sight, I remarked to him emphatically that he was the
biggest specimen of a goose I had ever seen in my line. "I think," said
I, "you had better go home and play pin. Here is where he dodged you,
and now he is off again, with an hour or more start." We worked until
after midnight and gave Cahir such a "turning over" that the inhabitants
won't soon forget, but could not get hold of the least trace, except at
one place (Maloy's), where a woman said a stranger came in at supper
time, who said he was an American seeing the people in their homes. We
cross-questioned the man, but could get nothing out of him more than
that you had departed.
"'At last we gave it up, went to the hotel to get some sleep, which we
needed badly, and the next day went to Dublin, heard about the finding
of your neck-wrapper at the Cathedral Hotel, and knocked about Ireland
for some time. During this time we arrested several persons, but soon
discovered none of them was the right party, and we never obtained a
genuine trace until you were discovered later in Edinburgh.'"
[Illustration: MARKET CROSS, EDINBURGH.]
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE FLOWERS IN THE PRIMROSE WAY ARE SWEET.
As narrated in an earlier chapter, I left England two days before the
first lot of forged bills were sent in. I left serene and confident of
the future. My departure was a happy event in a double sense. All my
negotiations had been carried on at a considerable expense of nerve, and
in leaving I left everything in such trim that success seemed certain,
with all chance of danger eliminated from the venture. I felt that the
trying toil was now all over, with nothing for me to do but to reap the
harvest, and that without effort or care on my part.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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