Langie^. Lee, A Series. ^P S'<»cia( ^ensal'toMS an4 3 rf^^.? ^^^^^^ uass. Book. V2M- INSIDE SCENES H U OF Atlanta's Black Week A SERIES OF SOCIAL SENSATIONS AND A ■• ' Carnival of Crimes. TERMINATING WITH A t Terrible Tale of Tragedies t And Tears. BY LEE LANQLEY. a — ■ — D The foote & davies co,, publishers. INTRODUCTORY. It is a theory in newspaper circles that crime, like stomis, travels in. waves. When one terrible event has occurred the newspaper man with "nose for news," is on the alert, looking for and expecting some- thing else of the same nature, something similar to happen. And he is raiely disappointed. It is a strange theory, but its demonstra- tion is stranger still. There are storms of lesser magnitude, and there are cyclones. The distinction is one of degree alone. So with these crime waves. There are cyclones — simoons of crime. As the simooms with i ts. breath of hell swoops down on the city of the desert, stifling, sufFocfit- ing every creature in its path, so did a crime simoom swoop down upon the fair city of Atlanta — startling, stilling, suffocating. No words' can picture the consternation, the destruction, the desolation it brought. It was something unique in the history of any city — something un- paralleled in the annals of crime. The story of that chain of events, rushing in upon each other as they did, is one of deep and ab- sorbing interest. It is of interestinot to the seeker after the sensa- tional alone; were it only that, there would perhaps belittle reason for this volume; but it is more. Here is a study for psychologists. It opens a field for discussion, and at thej same time tells a story so peculiar, so absoi-bing, so tragical that it all seems beyond the bounds of possibility and proves, if proof be necessary, that the facte of this life are stranger than any^fiction. For months Atlanta, the Queen City of the fair Southland, had been at peace, apparently, with all mankind and was reaping the benefits of that peace in a bounteous prosperity. The financial storms that had struck her less fortunate sisters had left her unscathed. The "Atlanta air" of thrift and'enterprise and success was seemingly more noticeable than ever. Society was free from scandal and the people were happy. Atlanta was the pride of the South. And ihe is still, but many and deep have been her tribulations. ATLANTA'S BLACK WEEK. A black week indeed. As if by one fell blow were financial circles paralyzed. Scandal stalked in high places. A young man in whom the world had every confidence, fell from the hights, carrying with Tiim destruction and death. The storm had struck and Atlanta was its center. Desolation utter and deep it left in its path. Crime and carnage followed fast and the whole community seemed seized with the fatal spell. An indescribable dread weighted down the hearts as it must have the heaits of the good in Sodom and Gomorrah of old. Mothers clasped their babes to their breats praying mute prayers for deliverance from the fate that seemed impending to all. Horror was pictured on the faces of strong men — that same picture so familiar to those who have gone through an earthquake experience . While pervading the entire community was that spirit of reckless bravado soldiers feel when facing what seems certain death. No word picture can do it justice. So intense was the feeling of distrust that the ministers of the city met in special session and re- quested the newspapers to stop publication, or if they must appear, to to give no details of the different crimes. The prevalence of this feeling of distrust cannot be better illustrated than by reproducing the following editorial which was the Constitution'' s leader in the Sun- day issue which told the story of the week's carnival of crime: Within the past week, Atlanta has been aflBicted with calamities heretofore unknown in her history. We do not propose to shock our readers by going into details, nor by giving a list of the horrors rushing upon us from day to day, pil- ing climax upon climax, until tongue and pen have found it impos- sible to keep pace with the swift tide of events. Taine says that even a nation may have a period of insanity, and it is very generally believed that epidemics of madness have occas- ionally swept whole communities. And why not? If insanity may seize an antire family, why not temporarily a group of families, a town, a country? 4 ATLANTA S BLACK WKEK. The incidents of the past few days give color and substance to- these reflections, but our people must not give way to tlie excite- ment and glQom so natural under the circumstances. The myste- rious ways of Providence sometimes bring grief to all of us, but in the end they will bo vindicated by final results, and men will see that an All- Wise Father has scourged them lovingly and for their good. In this Christian city of law and order, filled with noble charities- and kind hearts we cannot believe that there will be an epidemic either of insanity or crime. There is no cause for it. Our people are sympathetic, and full of brotherly love. "Man's inhumanity to man" is a meaningless phrase here. We have no sharp contrasts of plu- tocracy and poverty to make people desperate, and there is no fever- ish excitement in our social life powerful enough to make men and women lose their heads. The incidents of the past week are except- ional, and doubtless they will be followed by a long period of peace- ful and monotonous quiet. We hope so. But the men of God and the worshipers who con- gregate today in our more than seventy churches should utilize to the utmost the calming and soothing influences of the holy Sab- bath. Good and thoughtful people will find it in their power this- morning to start a i;urrent of sentiment through the community that will carry balm to many a wounded heart and peace to many a troubled mind. This current of Cliristian sentiment starting from the family altar, from the pulpit, and from every good man with the grace of God in his heart, can restore quiet and haj^piness in this season of sorrow. ' And now let us one and all, yield to the spirit of this holy day,, and may the peace of God be with us all. That was the feeling, and the incidents that served to bring the people up to that high pitch were sensational in the extreme. Be- ginning with several uni(iue and peculiar crimes that served as a prelude, there followed this particular week into which the sensa- tions, the experiences of a lifetime were crowded. The defalcation of Lewis Redwine which caused the Gate City National Bank to close its doors, and came near bringing the city into a financial panic. The suicide of Tom Cobb Jackson — an event terrible in itself, more terrible in all it i>ortends. Then the capture of Redwine followed on the heels of the suicide, and Then, as if to bring it all to a climax, the horrible bouble uxorcido of Miss Julia Force. And now to tell the story of it all. Atlanta's black week. CHAPTER. ONE. Being the Story of the First Double Tragedy of the Series. First in the catalogue of the past series of crimes comes the at- tempted double suicide, or suicide and mnrder, of Umbei'ta Pian- tini and Selita Muegge, his beautiful young step-sister, in the Met- ropolitan hotel, on January the 28th. The story is as thrilling and sensational as its sequal was sad. The powers of passion have never been greater, the longings of love more insatiable, and self-destruc- tion, more deliberate than in this case. So ii'resistibly enthralled with the influences of his mad love, yielding to the fiery passions imputed to the Italian nature, Piantini forgot or disregarded the mar- ital vows and all ties, and followed with unfaltering step his insane love for his pretty German step-sister to his death ; and he found in her a full response and willing companion. Insane with tlie passion of love, and afire with the flames of de- pravity, these two erring souls, within the sacred sanctity of a family circle, bound by the strongest ties of human flesh and blood, violated every principle of virtue and honor, and cast an everlasting stigma on a pure name. If such crimes are possible, surrounded by mother, father, wife, children and sisters, in the heart of a city famed the country over for its morality, Christianity and culture, no one could be seriously censured did they deny the virtue of civilization. Keaders, when such is the story that forms the opening chajiter of this book of crimes, need you marvel at what follows ? When the intimacy of Piantini and Miss Muegge, his step-sister, had reached that stage that secrecy could no longer be maintained, with a coolness as remarkable and incompei-able as had marked the other features of their crime, they deliberately planned to end it all with death, and to this end the appointment was made on the fa- 6 atlajsta's bi^ck week. tal evsning to meet at what soon subsequently became the scene of death. What followed is easily told. They took room 29, to which they at once retired. No one knows what passed from that time till the fatal shots were heard. What followed is soon told. With his arms about the woman he loved, and her soft, round arms encircling his neck in sweet embrace, Umborto Piantini kissed Selita Muegge goodby, put a bullet into her head and sent another crashing into his own brain. Their warm life blood commingled. Their hearts beat together. A crimson torrent gushed from each of the wounds. Into their dazed senses then crept the idea that they were dying together, and instinctively the last embrace tightened. Divided in life by barriers that no human power could destroy, tliey had sought the union in death for which their loving hearts longed. The guilty couple crept away from the home where both lived, but ■where circumstances forbade them even exchanging a tender, loving glance. Going to the hotel, they registered as man and wife. Forgotten Tvas the wife at home; forgotten was the old mother and father; for- gotten for the time was all the world beside. Beyond the death they sought they saw a union to which all earthly obstacles would be removed. No goodby was said. Just a minute and they would be insepara- l)ly united. For a moment they looked into each other's eyes, then with a firm hand, Piantini pressed an ugly bulldog revolver to Selita Muegge's temple. She did not liinch as the steel touched her warm flesh. Cooler than they had ever been in all their lives before, they faced each other in that dreadful moment. The finger touching the trig- ger barely moved. There was a sharp, quick report. The young woman fell back, but lier lover still dung to her, holding her in his arms. With the swift- ATLANTA S BLACK WEEK. 7 ness of lightning, he turned the muzzle of the revolver to his own head. Another loud report, and the two lovers sank speechless, side by side. Streams of blood flooded the snow white linen . Not a groan or a sigh escaped the couple. Lying in their own commingled blood, the sound of the revolver still echoing in their ears, the two were dis- covered three minutss after the shooting. The youth and beauty of the two compelled the sympathy of alL The flush of health tinted the fresh young cheeks of both. Piantini, a handsome Italian, with jet-black hair and mustache, is just twenty- four years old, and has a strikingly handsome face. The young woman is step-sister to Piantini. Piantini is the son of F. Piantini,, the wood carver. The elder lives at 400 Pryor street, where he has an elegant home. A few years ago, he married a second time, and Selita Muegge's mother was the bride. They lived in New Jersey at the time, but came here to live. Umberto Piantini married six years: ago. At the home of Piantini. a contented father and mother, a fond wife, and two fond sisters were sitting by a glowing fire in a happy home when the awful news reached them. Prostrated at the fearful shock, not one of them was able to go to- the bedside of the perhaps dying lovers. The grief of the forgotten and negletced wife was distressing beyond all comparison. About half-past three o'clodk, Piantini and Miss Muegge walked into the office of the hotel and went directly to the register. They came in from the entrance on Pryor street, next to the railroad. It was the time for the Central road train, and Mr. Keith supposed the couple had reached the city on that train. "I want a room for myself and wife until to-morrow morning at 7 o'clock," said he. "We wish to leave on the 7 o'clock train." He picked up the pen and wrote in a slanting, but firm hand, "Um- berto Piantini and wife." They said they were not particular about the room being very elegant. Mr. Keith assigned them to room 29 on the third floor. The room is on the Pryor street side of the hotel, and is rather plainly furnished. There are two beds in the room. Atlanta's black week. THE TWO SHOTS. At a quarter to six o'clock, two ringing reports were heard on the upper floor in the direction of the room occupied by the couple. The sharp reports were heard in every part of the house and a half dozen negroes went running up the stairway. All was still. Not a sound disturbed the quiet on the floor. The negroes were frightened, and ran as hurridly down the stairway as they had ascended it. One of them ran like the wind to the police station a block below. All was excitement at the hotel. No one knew the significance of the two pistol shots. At the police station Callman Beavers waited but an instant to hear the story of the excited negro and started out for the hotel. A half block away he overtook Patrolman Jordan, and the two oflBlcers went together to the hotel office. Mr. Charlie Keith, who had just entered the office a minute ahead of the policemen, went with the officers to the room. The crowd followed, all a-tremble with excitement and curiosity. The deathly stillness was puzzling. No one knew what to make of it. "Be careful," said Mr. Keith; "you may get shot." The door of room 29 was slightly ajar. Patrolman Beavers cau- tiously approached the door and peeped in. To the right and to the left was a bed. At first, the officer saw nothing. Glancing about the room for an nstant, he suddenly recoiled with a cry of horror. A horrible, frightful, sickening sight met his eyes. Lying on the bed to the left of the door, locked in each other's arms, their heads lying in a pool of blood and upon a blood-stained pillow, their faces reposeful and calm in expression, were a beautiful young woman and a handsome man. A smoking bulldog revolver lay on the floor beside the bed. Patrolmen Beavers and Jordan and Mr. Keith entered the room without a word. Instinctively they surveyed the room with thei yesjas they entered. The thought of an assassin lurking behind Atlanta's black week. 9 the doorway waiting to escape presented itself instantly to their minds. The room was empty save for the presence of the pair locked in each other's embrace. The men tvirned to the bloody scene on the bed. The two figures were as still as if already dead. They made no move and were ap- parently suffering no pain. Beavers bent over the man and shook him by the arm. The man turned his blood-bespattered and frightful looking face toward the officer. He was conscious. The officer a#ked his name. He pointed a bloody finger at the table. "Is she your wife ?" Beavers asked. He shook his head feebly and a fresh torrent of blood rushed f i-om his ear. He closed his eyes and made no further sign. The woman was unconscious, and ai)peared as peaceful and stil as if sleeping. Her magnificently beautiful face was horribly beautiful still in its crimson setting of blood. Her soft, drooping eyelids covered her sweet, languorous eyes. The tender purity of the face was beauti- ful to see. It was an ideally pretty face, the soft, sublime expres- sion of a woman who had done no wrong resting like a smile upon it. There was not a suggestion of pain in it, nor a suggestion of sin or wrong. The sight the couple presented was enough to make the strongest heart turn sick. Men long accustomed to sights of blood and suffer- ing turned shudderingly away from the bedside. Chief Connolly turned away his head. "For eighteen years I have been used to horrible sights," said he, "but I have never seen anything like that." Men who saw the bloody sight turned away and fell fainting. More than one man had to be led from the room. THE LETTERS THEY LEFT BEHIND. While the physicians were busying themselves attending the 10 Atlanta's black week. wounded pair, the officers were solving the mystery surrounding the ahooting. When asked his name, Piantini pointed to the table in the center of the room. On the table were found two letters. On top of them was a sheet of paper bearing the words, in a big, bold hand: "Deliver these letters to our parents." The first letter was directed to F. Piantini, father of the young man. It was sealed. It read: January 24, 1893. — In this moment that we write we are happy. In an hour and a half we will be dead; we will be no more in the land of the living. We believe that we will be united after ^eath, as we are now united in life. Please bury us in the same coffin — this is our last request. Bury us in Oakland cemetery and plant ivy on our graves. i Selita and Umbkrto, The other letter was addressed to Piantini" s mother-in-law, and "written in Italian. It was translated by a friend of Piantini, as fol- lows: Accept my last regards, for one hour from now I will be dead. It seems to me that it was wrong for me to take $2 a day. My Dear Aunt, it has almost run me crazy, after I had pawned my jewelry, I didn't have enough. One kiss from my heai-t, and goodby. Umberto. the news at piantini' s home. The doctors busied themselves probing for the balls in the heads of the woimded pair. While they were engaged in this. Patrolman Beavers went to the home of Piantini's father and Miss Muegge's mother, at 400 South Pryor street. The scene there, when the news was broken to the parents, was indescribable. The mother fell in her husband's arms, and the pretty young sisters of the wounded girl wept hysterically. Miss Muegge was carried to her home, 400 South Pryor Street. She begged piteously not to be carried home as she was being placed in the ambulance, but her cries were of no avail. She declared that her mother must not know. Atlanta's black werk. 11 Although they had been notified immediately after the shooting, not one of the relatives of the pair went near the scene of the killing. They waited at home until the city ambulance bore home the form of pretty Selita Muegge. A few hours before she had left home to come up town shopping. At that time her face bore no shadow of the impending catastrophe. She appeared as light-hearted and happy as she always appeared. Somewhere up town she met Piantiui by appointment, and had gone with him to her doom. Her reception at home last night may be imagined, never described. No pen can paint the picture in all its living colors. Tears and re- monstrances were of no avail. Mute and silent, rendered dumb by the very awfulness of the affair, they watched the writhing form of he light of that household brought in and laid upon her couch. Her groans sounded where her laughter had so lately been. There stood the awakened wife of the man who had done this awful thing. Just now she had opened her eyes to the truth, and who knows a bitterer feeling than that which comes to a woman who learns that the man she loves has died for another? DIED FOK LOVE. Next in succession to be seized with the fatal fever, was W. D. Cowley, a well khown commercial traveller for Marrsh, Smith & Marsh. The cause assigned for his rash self-destruction was lost love. The story goes that he was madly infatuated with a leading society belle of Marietta, who had for some reason refused to marry him He'committed suicide by shooting himself the day following Cobb Jackson's death. All day Crowley circulated among his friends, and expreseed in excited and enthusiastic terms his admiraeion of Cobb Jackson, and declared just before the deed was committed that he had just left Lewis Red wine, and that if ever he saw him again he was going to advise him to follow Cobbs example that it was a brave, manly and sure way of ending all earthly troubles. While 12 Atlanta's black week. discussing the matter several times during the day Crowley dis- played a package containing a revolver and would remark, "this is the little package that will do the bloody work." Had the town been less exited, those who heard Crowleys state- ment have recognized the symptoms of the raging contagion and taken steps to confine the desperate man till his mind should re- turn to its normal condition. Late in the afternoon, Crowley went to his room, took his revolver and with the coolness and delibera- tion of one whose mind had been relieved of earthly fears and dreads he fired the shot thae carried his soul from earth to his God for final account. His father lives at lloswell, Ga., and is one of the most influential and wealthiest men in the State. Crowleys body was carried to Roswell for interment the following day. Another Mysterious Suicide. Shortly after the Metropolitan double tragedy with the sensation and scandal, had ceased to be relished morsels of gossip, and for no other apparent reason than that he had become effected with the epidemic of self destruction then prevalent iu Atlanta, young Aaron Eaphael, a comme.tcial tiaveler from Boston, took his own life in his room at the Kimball house. He cooly laid aside a novel which he had been reading and with every evidence of perfect sanity and self possession fii'ed the shot that within a few hours ended his life. There was never a deatk more completely shxouded in mystery. His i-elatives who came from Boh^ton to get his body, declared that they could see no man- ner of aocount for the crime. He was in no trouble and had not been, but was prosperous, temperate and seemingly happy. LEWIS KEDWINE. Atlanta's black week. 15 CHAPTER TWO. History of Lewis Redwinc's Fall from Grace, and the Discovery of the Defalcation. "Defaulted and Gone." That was the headline in the morning's paper of February the 22d that proved the warning bolt that thundered forth to herald a terri- ble cyclone of crime in the city of Atlanta. But the crime itself sank into utter insignificance, and was forgotten as the thousands of readers followed the story to the name of the man against whom it was alleged. Lewis Redwine, the Assistant Cashier of the Gate City National Bank, a defaulter and a fugitive from justice ! To all those familiar with the financial and social history of At- lanta, it seemed impossible. They could hardly believe their own eyes. "Lewis Redwine defaulted and gone !" .vt this stage of the story the reader paused and repeated the name and crime again and again as his memory carried him back instinctively to the many brilliant social events, then to the many conferences of the city's prominent financiers, in which this young man had been a conspicu- ous figure, and stood out head and shoulders above any young man of his age in the State. Lewis Redwine, the toast of society, the boast of financiers and the beau of beaux — an embezzler and a fugitive ! And in these reflections there was no exaggeration of the young man's true position. Redwine had steadily ascended the social scale until he had reached its topmost pinnacle, and stood, as somebody has aptly described it, "Monarch of all he surveyed in the dazzling domain of Swelldom." He had gone from a penniless bookkeeper to an official in one of the most influential banking institutions in the South, and by virtue of his long service, perfect integrity and l6 Atlanta's black week. marked ability, he was practically second (^nly to the president and head of the institution. This position was not purchased with money; it was not held by virtue of stock in the bank, controlled by family and friends, nor tlirough any outside influence, but was the price of honor, tlie fruit of long and faithful service, the reward of genuine merit. , Fifteen years before, Kedwine, a penniless stripling, had come from Coweta county to take a place at the foot of the ladder in the Gate City National Baiik. Year after year from that time he had grown steadily in the esteem and confidence of the bank's controlling offi- cials, and had been promoted until, thirteen months ago, he was^ made assistant cashier and practically given control of the money of this staunch institution. He was envied by young men, courted by society's most select circle, and was pointed to with pride by the staid and conservative money kings tliat preside over the financial interests of the South' s greatest city. He was a shining light in the Capital (. ity Club, the most aristocratic social organization in the Gulf States. That stamped him as a "swell." But his success had not, ap- parently, turned his head. He was quiet and unostentatious, dressed in the height of fashion, but at all times modestly, and was as affa- ble to the man who wore overalls as to the president of the bank. "If ever there was a true gentleman, Lewis Redwiue is one," his friends all said, and everybody who knew him endorsed the senti- ment. Lewis Ledwiue a defaulter! "Surely there must be some mistake," everybody said. And yet he stands to-day charged with the wreck of one of the foremost banking institutions of the South, and responsible — the Lord only knows for how much of the ruin and desolation that has followed his act. The story of the defalcation and its discovery, as well as the dis- appearance of Kedwine, was an interesting one, and so strange in its details as to give rise to many rumors and stories more or less derogatory to the bank and its official heads, all of which were probably uncalled for and unwarranted. The newspaper accounts- Atlanta's black week. 17 were preceded by a card signed by L. J, Hill, President; A. W. Hill, Vice-President; and E. S. McCandless, Cashier of the Bank, saying: "We are sorry to have to announce that Lewis Redwine, Assistant Cashier of our Bank, is a defaulter." They went on to say that a large amount of the bank's funds had disappeared, but although the exact atoount of the shortage was not known, it was not great enough to impair the bank's capital and interfere with its business. Following this was a graphic account of the details of the affair. President Lod Hill had just returned from Mexico, where he had been some days. While he was away the bank examiner had visited the bank and had reported the cash all right, and the favorable report which he found on his return was highly gratifying. But of course he had known it was all right, for hadn't Lewis been there to look after the cash? This count had been made an Saturday. On Monday, President Hill returned to the city. In a casual talk with a fellow banker who had stopped him to say "howdy" after his absence, the Presi- dent of the Gate City got an inkling of some right extensive check- ing which his bank had done on Saturday, "Oh! that's all right," he said. "I suppose Lewis needed the ready cash for some of the bank's customers." But somehow Mr. Hill couldn't forget the remark that had been made to him. For some reason — he couldn't possibly tell why— it worried him. And he determined to ask Redwiue about it the very next day. The amount had been given him as $2.5.000, and he really couldn't see how so much was necessary. Just before closing hour on Tuesday, President Hill walked up to Redwine' s desk and said: "Lewis, come into my of36ice a minute; I want to see you," "All right, Mr. Hill; just a minute. I'll be there as soon as I make these entries." The president turned and walked into his oflce at the rear of the bank. As he did so, Redwine, as he had done a thousand times before, stepped around the railing at the front of the bank. He had 18 Atlanta's black week. on his office coat and was hatless. Nobody noticed him particularly. He walked slowly and unconcernedly to a saloon below the bank, called for a whiskey straight, filled the glass and drank it at a swal- low. As he did so, he looked up and saw Welbron Hill, Vice-P-esident of the bank, and a deputy-sheriff confronting him. "Have something, Lewis?" "No, thank you; I've just had a drink." "Welborn Hill took his drink and stepped out on the sidewalk. His brother had told him to keep an eye on Redwine, so he took a .stand where he could, as he thought, command a view of all exits. There he waited. As he went out, Redwine asked the bartender to lend him a hat, put it on and Atlanta's black week. 18 CHAPTER THREE. Disappeared. Disappeared as literally and completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up. Welborn Hill got tired waiting, then went back to the saloon. Redwine wasm't there. He stepped quickly into the bank— no Red- wine. Then he moved quicker than ever. The police headquarters is just at the rear of the Gate City bank building, and in a minute he was closeted with Chief Connolly. "Catch Redwine!" was his request. "Do you make a charge against him ? " "No, but we don't want him to get away." Chief Wright and his detective force began work at once, but no trace of the absconding cashier could be found. The story created the most intense excitement when The Consti- tution gave the full details the next morning. Of course, everybody had a theory — some of them being perfectly positive that Redwine was and had always been blacker than it was possible to paint him, and others being equally as positive — yes, more so — that there must be some gigantic mistake, and that it would yet be proven that Redwine was absolutely innocent. W eird indeed were some of these stories. A popular tale with the theorists of the first class was that Redwine had, a few days before, had a tailor on a little obscure street make him a money belt. Ar- guing on these premises, they knew that the cashier had laid all his plans to disappear on Wednesday, that being a legal holiday, and that he had taken a vast amount of the bank's money with him. The belt story was run down and shattered, but that didn't weaken those theorists who had been talking of the vast amount of boodle •20 , Atlanta's black week. they were certain RedAvine had taken. All sorts of stories of his ex- travagance began to come to light, and it seem as if th« pessimistic theorists liad decidedly the best of the argument. But this didn't faze those who looked on the bi'ighter side — who couldn't believe that lledwine was a thief. An overwhelming bulk of evidence was against them, but what did that matter? They knew Redwine, they couldn't believe it. All sorts of theories were advanced to show that Redwine was more sinned against than sin- ning. These stories involved the bank and its officials, and involved people outside the bank — all apparently without reason. Suspicion was directed against prominent young men and simply because they were known to be friends of IJedwine; and there was no otlier reason in the wox'ld for connecting their names with the affair. The stories about tlie bank recalled former times of trial in the bank's history — times when money was lost tlirough loans, I believe. And one of these stories went so far as to hint, if not to state positively, that the Gate City was embarrased, and that Redwine had not stolen a cent, but was permitting himself to be used as tool to tide matters over for a few days until the bank's affairs could be straightened ont; that the true status of the bank would soon become known and then the alleged defaulter would return, pose as a martyr, who to save his -employers had assumed the role of a thief and a fugitive from justice. The absolute impossibility of such a state of affairs makes a serious treatment of such rumors absolutely unnecessary. To dignify tliem is to waste time. The officials of the bank were credited with the statement tluxt Redwine had been stealing money for many months and making false entries to cover his shortage; liere in the same breath the statement was imputed to the same source, that it was impossible for him to liave stolen any money l)efore he had been appointed to his present position of trust, which position he had only held thix'teen montlis. Of course these were only rumors, but they were as active as spar- rows and found willing auditors and ready believers wherever they reached. The very atmosjihere seemed impregnated with such rumors, and the excitement was soon intense beyond description. ATLANTAS BLACK WEEK. 21 Society had received its shock, by the alleged theft and disappear- ance of one of its favorite disciples; financiers were nervous -over the prospects of the bank, and the effect in business and money cir- cles ; stockholders of thie institution vmder question were down- hearted and depositors were wild with anxiety about their hard earned shekels. Local newspaper men were in clover. Everything they could find about the case was printed and found eager readers. "Extras" were cried by newsboys on all sides. News was carried from one end of the country to the otlier on the wires. It meant a harvest for the special correspondents, and they were writing it for all they were worth. The arrest of half a dozen suspects in different parts of the South only adds fuel to the fire. Here, the newspaper boys thought, was a genuine ten days' wonder. Papers everywhere would be eager for all they could get of the story for a week to come; the home papers would be full of nothing else. Little did they think that this was but the preface — the introduc- tox'y chapter, at best — of a series of sensations probably unparalleled in the history of any city in times of peace. The latest about Redwine ! Everybody wanted to know what it was. Wednesday the seao^-ch was kept up, while the bank officials were hard at work trying to make order out of chaos. Late that night they sent a note to the Constitution office. It was a short note, but it meant a great deal. The bank would not open next day. That was the latest then, and it was a great surprise. The clear- ing house officials had made a thorough examination and said that there was no reasonable doubt of the depositors getting all their money. But the bank would not open. That" meant that the defalcation vfas much heavier that was at first announced, $65,000. It meant, too, that business might be crippled and that trouble? might come. Thursday the whole city was in a fever of excitement. The bank examiner had been wired for, and the doors bore a placard announc- 22 Atlanta's black week. ing that fact. Hundreds of depositors were standing around the the bank corner. Then a meeting wa« called at the court house, and prominent bankers assured the depositors that their money was all right. All of this, however, only accentuated the interest. And still nothing nothing of Rcdwine. Night came. The interest was unabated. As business men closed their places of business to go to their homes, they stopped and talked about the one topic of the hour. About the hotels there were many discussions and some tights. Seven o'clock. — "Any news of Redwine ?" Telephones at the po- lice station and in the newspaper offices were kept at a white heat repeating the question. Eight o'clock. — "Any news of Redwine ?" Still a negative. Nine o'clock. — "What's the latest about Redwine ?" Nothing. Nine o'clock and ten minutes. — "Nothing new about " No! No! Not a word about Redwine. But Cobb Jackson Atlanta's black week. 23 CHAPTER FOUR. Being the Story of the Tragic Suicide of Thomas Cobb Jackson. " No, not that ! It cannot be! Anything but that I" The message that the telephone had given back was — " Cobb Jackson has shot himself !" The first feeling of this young man's friends when told that he had attempted — perhaps committed — self-murder, was one like the numb- ness that follows a stunning blow. Then came the conviction — posi- tive, absolute — that there was some horrible mistake. Nobody who knew Cobb Jackson would have been much surprised had the mes- sage been that he had in a fit of anger or in a quarrel shot somebody; and those who had seen him that day and heard him talk would have been even less surprised had the message been that somebody else had shot him. But that he, COBB JACKSON, had sMtcitZed— IMPOSSI- BLE! To understand the feelings of these Doubting Thomases, a knowl- edge of the life and career of this young man is necessary. With such knowledge, you will perhaps think as they did — impossible ! To be a member of an old family, famed for intellect, chivalry, bravery, eminence in all walks of life is much — but it isn't every- thing, for scions of just such families have run to seed; to have so- cial position, to have reached a position at one's chosen profession that makes one the envy of one's fellows, to have married a woman beautiful and brilliant, and lovely in all the term means — any of these ought to make a man supremely happy. Yet Cobb Jackson had them all. He had his faults, what man has none ? But if one man had occasion to be happy, so far as the world could tell, that man was Cobb Jackson. Then why did he? 24 Atlanta's black werk. you are askiiijj. Aye, there's the rub, as Hamlet says: WHY! There is no more aristocratic family in the South than the Jack- sons of Georgia. At the head of the family, stands General Henry K. Jackson, of Savannah, a gallant general who served with great distinction in the civil war, who was the friend and confidnate of those other great soldiers whos » names are indissolubly connected with the Sixties; a man who has always been eminent, who has held many positions of honor, notably the position of Minister to Mexico under the first Cleveland administration; a man of great wealth and prestige. His eldest son is Captain Harry R. Jackson, of Atlanta, a type of the true Southern gem lemau, if there ever was one; a charm- ing, brilliant, brainy man; one of the most eminent lawyers in the South, especially prominent as a corporation lawyer, and the repre- sentative of the great Riclunoud and Danville system; a man of wealth, whose home is the ideal home of the wealthy Southerner, wliere liospitality finds it true interpi'etation. Presiding over that liome is a lady whose graces are proverbial, a brilliant, beautiful, wom- anly woman, iJrs. Jackson is a daugliter of the South' s great leader. General Tlios. R. R. Cobb, whose name, like that of his brother, H(»well Cobb, is a household word not only in Georgia, but tlirough the entire South. The son of these two — their eldest child — Cobb Jackson was given everything that heart could desire. He was given a splendid educa- tion, and when he had been admitted to the bar, was taken into part- nershi)) by his father, the firm being Jackson and Jackson. Father and son were like chums. If ever a father was proud of his boy, this favher was. A little more than a year ago, Cobb Jackson led to the matrimo- nial altar one of tlu) greatest belles Southern society has known — Miss Sarah Francis (irant, the daughter of Captain VV. D. Grant, Atlanta's richest man. The marriage was a great event. No two j'oung peo- ple could liave, api)areutly, started upon life's journey juudor more favorable auspices. THOMAS COBB JACKSON. Atlanta's black week, 27 And yet, in one short year, this man kills himself. Why was it? Everybody asked the question, God alone knows. The secret of the thoughts that were in that young man's mind when he put a bullet in his brain, was buried with him 'neath the willows in the beautiful city of the dead, where he lies sleeping his long sleep. But everybody has a theory, a thousand different stories were told, as many more are being talked of to-day. Was he mixed up in the Redwine defalcation, and if so, how? It was natural that the question should be asked. The great friendship existing between the two men, the suicide coming rio^ht on the heels of the Redwine flight — all the attending circumstances seemed to warrant the assumption that the two events were correla- tive — 'that the one was the direct result of the other. The developments of the days that followed, when history was being made for Atlanta faster than ever before, so fast as to literally take the breath away, these developments showed that the tribe of prophets was not extinct. They showed the C(«nnection — But I'm ahead of my story. First let me tell the , STORY OF THE SUICIDE. The story of the tragedy is soon told, and that night about 6 : 30 o'clock, Captain Harry Jackson went to his office in the Kiser build ing. He found his son lying on the sofa very gloomy in spirits. Young Jackson said nothing and seemed in no mood to talk. Captain Jackson busied himself with some work about the office and paid little attention to his son. It is claimed thatbutfew words passed between father and son in the interval of two hours during which they remained together in their office. About 8:30 o'clock, Captain Jackson finished the work which occu- pied his attention and arousing his son, got him to get up and prepare to go home. The negro janitor telephoned for a hack and when it arrived Captain Jackson and Cobb left their office and stepped into the hack in front of tho Pryor street entrance to the Ki3«r building. Captain Jackson directed the hackman to drive to his home on 28 Atlanta's black week. Capitol square on the block south of the State Capitol. It was a drive of but three blocks and was accomplished in a very short time. Not a word passed between the two daring the trip. Captain Jack- son was seated on the right side of the hack and during the ride liomeward he sat in silent meditation. On the left side sat Cobb, strangely taciturn and quiet. He seemed deep in thought. In front of Captain Jackson's door the hack stopped and the driver alighted and opened the door of the vehicle. Captain Jack- son was on the next to the sidewalk and next to the house and he stepped out. After reaching the sidewalk Captain Jackson did not stop, but started on a brisk walk for the gate. lie took, perhaps, three steps when a strange noise attracted his attention. He wheeled about ast the sound reached him. He could not explain it. To him it sounded like a muffled explosion. As Captain Jackson turned he noticed that his son had not yet arisen from his seat in the hack. With a single step he was beside the open door of the hack. What he saw lie can never forget. Crouched in one corner of the hack, his head dropping on his breast, his hat lying at his feet, a smoking revolver in his right hand was Tom Cobb Jackson. The odor of powder smoke pervaded the interior of the vehicle. The sound of the young man's labored breathing was all that broke the stillness. An electric light on the corner outlined but imperfectly the tragic scene. By its glare Captain Jackson saw the thrilling picture. In the one instant that he stood by the open door looking in upon the croaching figure of liis son^ Captain Jackson saw a spot of crim- son blood appear upon the young man's right temple. As he looked, it grew into a stream, which found its way down the young man's cheek, dying his face a deep crimson. A moment after Captain Jackson reached his sou's side a United, States soldier walked by, and, attracted by the noise, he stopped. The captain applied to him for assistance, and together the two men ifted the young Mr. Jackson from the vehicle. Atlanta's black week 29 A s they dragged his body from the hack to the sidewalk they no- ticed that it hung heavily in their grasp, and dropped limp and inert. Bodily they carried the young man through the gate, up the sidewalk ■end into the house. Captain Jackson did not lose his presence of mind or self-control, and his first thought was for the safety of his son. He placed the body upon a bed and dispatched a servant for Dr. Baird, who resides two doors from his home. He then turned his attention to the dying man. Around the bedside the young wife and other members of the family had gathered and stood waiting for something — death, the arrival of the physician, the recovery of consciousness — something. Captain Jackson bent over the still form. The chest no longer re- sponded to the coming and going of the breath. The face was quite till, the features composed. The heart had ceased to beast. Downs across the face the crimson stain was outlined, it alone marring the palor of the face. Thomas Cobb Jackson had died in the arms of his father, while being carried from the hack into the house. In five minutes the physicians came. Dr. Baird first, and then Drs. Armstrong and Hagan. They said that the shot had produced in- stant paralysis and almost instant death. The bullet had entered the right temple, passed straight through the head and lodged just beneath the skin near the left ear. The effect was immediately fatal. The ball was of 38 caliber. When lifted from his seat in the hack, young Jackson held a pistol in either hand. The one in the right hand, and the one with which the fatal ^work was done, was 38 caliber; the other 32. Twenty-six cartridges were found in his pocket. The pistol and ;^the cartridges he had bought at the wholesale hardware store of Thomas M. Clarke & Co., during the afternoon. was it premeditated ? It seems so, and yet I don't believe it. 30 atlanta'9 bi^ck week. Why, then, did he kill himself ? There is no denying that Cobb was drinking that day. He devoted his day to drinking wine and denouncing in the strongest terms any one who suggested that Redwine was a thief. It was his one subject of conversation and he obtruded his views on every possible occasion. Everybody expected him to have trouble, and he probably expected it himself. Hence the pistols. When a man has been drinking champagne all day, lies down and sleeps a couple of hours, and awakes in a semi-sober condition, he feels desperate. If there is any time a man feels like falling a suicide's grave, it is then. Cobb Jackson was in that cohdition. He had neglected important work; he was desperate. Then he shot himself. BUT WAS THAT ALL. It seems not. There have been other developments that add thrilling and dramatic interest to the story. MBS, OAKS GIVES WIMBI8H THE SIGNAL, Atlanta's black week. 33 CHAPTER FIVE. How Redwine was Captured — A Story More Sensa- tional than Fiction Itself. The tragic, sensational and mysterious suicide of Cobb Jackson » so closely following the Redwine defalcation and the Gate City Bank suspension, coupled with the many and varied rumors of their close association created the most intense excitement. Within a few hours the great social pool that had centered around these two con- spicuous fountain-heads, had gone from a feverish simmer to a bub bling boil. Wild with excitement, afire with curiosity and blinded with the fog of impenetrable mystery that enveloped it all, Atlanta — the centre of southern culture — threw aside all formalities, even th friendly exchange of the day's greetings were forgotten, and the surging mass of people seemed to forge forward in tlie desperate search for some light that would dispel the smoke of mystery and and reveal the fatal explosive that had shattered SQciety from its pedestal and rocked, to a dangerous degree the foundation stones of the financial community. Then, as if to cap the climax of it all, came the capture of Red- wine. The developments of tnat day will form a never-to-be-forgot- ten page in the history of the Qiieen City of the South. The Con- stitution summed up the day's developments in these words : Yesterday was prolific of developments in the Gate City Bank case. Lewis Redwine, the fugitive cashier, was run down and caught. He was subjected to an examination of several hours' which was fruitless until he was left with Mr. Jack J. Spalding, when he ^made a full disclosure of all that had taken place. 1. He did not take the money, and has none of it in his possession. 2. It is true that ^70,000 of the baak's funds were abstracted, but in that abstrac tion none of the attaches of the bank are concerned, save Redwine himself. 34 Atlanta's b i^ck wbek. 3. The money was passed over to outside parties who have taken it and spent it In such a way that is an irretrievable loss. 3. The names of the parties who thus robbed the bank he does not oare to dis- close, because no good purpose can be subserved by it now. The story and the subsequent events were .so graphically told by "Bob" Adamson, the Constitution's police reporter, that I have taken the liberty of using portions of his story. Redwino was surprised in his hiding place and caught just before noon. He was found in a darkened room in Mrs. M. D. L. Oaks's boarding house, 97 Rockwell street, in the southern suburbs of the eity. The arrest was made by Patrolman J. T. Wimbish, of the evening watch, while off duty and without any assistance except that afforded by his thirteen-year-old nephew. Redwine was found without the use of strategy, without the usual shrewd ruses of a detective. Luck and pluck are two elements predominating in the remarkable capture. Wimbish burst into the room where Redwine was sitting by the fire. Redwine turned and faced the officer's ugly pistol. In a twinkling the handcuffs were about his trembling wrists. News of the captui-e was telephoned into the city, and was swept like a prairie fire. Before Redwine reached police headquarters a thousand and more people — some of them poor depositors in the Gate City Bank who regarded him as responsible for what seemed then their financial ruin — had gathered on the sidewalk in front of the prison. The bank officials were waiting in the Chief's office for their default- ing cashier, and all yesterday afternoon they were closeted with him. Only $413 were found in Redwine' s pockets. He denied the shortage to the extent claimed. He was extremely reticent in talking of the affair, but told enough to convince the officers that he was not the only guilty person. Then everybody naturally asked, "who are the guilty parties?" And they are asking it still. "Will they ever know ? PATROLMAN WIMBISH CAPTUKIFG KEDWINE. 36 Atlanta's black week. DETAILS OP THE CAPTUKE. The missing cashier was found on the extreme southern limits of the city, a quarter of a mile beyond the point where the East Ten- nesse road crosses SIcDaniel sti'eet. The house is the abode of Marquis de Lafayette Oaks, a shoemaker, and his wife. Oaks is about fifty-five years of age, and repairs shoes in one room of his house. The income of the shoemaker is greatly strengthened by the proceeds of Mrs. Oaks' domestic industry. !She takes boarders to the number of six or seven, and from this source realizes a neat sum. Her boarders are nearly all railroad men, as the house is but three minutes' walk from the East Tennessee shops. South of the house is a wide forest of tall pines, and on every side are steep bluffs, and the whole face of natui-e is rough, except here and there a neat new cottage. The neighborhood is very quiet. Thursday night, Mrs. Oaks was awakened about 11 o'clock. A friend of her husband's, H. H. Black, was at the door, and told Mrs, Oaks that he had come to brink her two boards. A few days before he had promised to bring her some boarders, and he now came to ful- fill his promise. He had ^vith him a young man muffled up in a big overcoat, and over his thin face a big slouch hat was drawn down. He introduced the little man as Mr, Lester Mr. Lester paid Mrs, Oaks a week's board in advance, $4, and gave her $1 extra for a night's lodging for Black. She gave the two men the middle room, which was furnished with one bed, and a folding lounge. Kedwine .sle])t on the lounge by the window; Black occu- pied the bed, "Lester" awoke late the next morning but did not leave his room. Black was up and around the house considerable, but kept a close watch on his friend. SHE BECAME SUSPICIOUS. "Lester" asked that breakfast be brought in to him, and Mrs . Oaks' curiosity was aroused, and she was desirous of knowing all about the boarder who was grand enough to order meals to be car- Atlanta's black week. 37 ried to his room. While "Lester" was eating his morning meal she remained in the room talking, and regarding him critically. '•There's something wrong about that young man," she told her husband, with a wise shake of the head, "he don't act right." She watched the room closely. She noticed that the boarder had the blinds drawn down. She entered the room frequently on trivial pretexts. She found that her new boader was drinking heavily. Once, while talking with him, he told her that he heard some one in the front room. He only wanted her to leave the room, "Lester called Mr. Oaks into the room and asked him to get a Constitution for him. He gave Oaks the money, and the shoemaker <5.ime into the city and bought a paper at the Constitution office, which he read eagerly. The story he read was that which told of the tragic death of his friend, Tom Cobb Jackson. He was moved— deeply moved. And he showed it. Could he have thought himself in any way responsi- ble for the shutting out of that brilliant life ? Did anybody else be- lieve him responsible ? A little note, written on a coffin, by a de- spairing, heart-broken man, would, perhaps, could it be reproduced here, give some idea of what was passing in that young man's mind as he read. The conviction became firmly fixed in Mrs. Oaks' mind that "Les- ter" was 1-iedwine, and she watched him to make sure. She had known his father in her youth, and lived near him, and he had been her family physician. She noted a strong resemblance between "Les- ter" and her early physician. Mrs. Oaks announced her conviction of "Lester's" identity to her husband, and he started to the city to inform Detective Bedford of it. While he was gone, Mrs. Oaks became nervous, and decided to rush matters through. She hurriedly left home, went to the home of patrolman AVimbish near by, and informed him of her suspicions. The officer was incredulous at first, but finally became interested, as he noted the earnestness of the woman. He sent her back to see if the coast was clear. He instructed her to make a given signal if things were all right. 38 Atlanta's black week. He waited on the outside. With him was his thirteen-year-old nephew, Israel Brown. The officer was excited, believing that he was about to face a desperate man. He had but a few minutes to wait Mrs. Oaks appeared on the porch and waved to him to come on. With heart beating fast, he walked up to the side of the door and climbed the steep steps. The woman pointed to the middle door. "In there," she said, in a whisper. Not another word was spoken. Wimbish lield his revolver in his hand behind him. He pushed the door open. A young man with diifhevelled hair and wild eyes, haggard face and wretched appearance generally, stoed up as he entered. The man trembled. He was shaking like an aspen. His lips moved narticulately. A rough looking man sitting beside him slowly arose. Wimbish' s right hand shot out before him, grasping a gleaming revolver. "Throw up your hands," he commanded. The terrified young man made no move to obey. He only stood there trembling. " \N ho are you ?" he asked. He seemed about to drop to the floor through sheer fright. "I am an officer, and you are my prisoner," said Wimbish. ■\yith a single stride he was beside the trembling fugitive. He caught him by the arms. He was as helpless as a babe. Wimbish drew his hands together. Young Israel Brown stepped in and grasped the man's arms. He held a pair of bright handcuffs There was a "click, click" and the young man was bound. Wimbish started for the door, dragging his prisoner after him. It was pitiful to see him as he shrank back, and shook and trembled. He kept asking in a broken voice what he was wanted for and what was the meaning of his arrest. He declared that his name was "Lester." "You are Redwine," said Wimbish, and he started with his pris- oner to a store near by. Atlanta's black week. 39 "There's no use denying it," said he; "that's my name. How did you know '? Who gave me away ?" "Why didn't you escape ?" said the officer. "How could I ?" asked the wretched man; "I tried to. There was no way. I couldn't get out of town. I watched for an opportunity, but to move was to be caught." At the stoi-e, police headquarters was telephoned. "Send the wagon to Gartrell's store on McDaniel street. Redwine lias been caught," said Mr. Gartrell over the 'phone. "Ah, rats," said the man at police headquarters; "give us some- thing new." A half dozen times the message had to be repeated ; even then the wagon was tardy in coming. Officer Wimbish had a long wait at the store. While there wait- ing, Redwine sat silent and downcast, his hands locked together. Af- ter a few minutes, he called to the officer. "Go back with me to the house," he said; "I have a valuable pack- age over there that I want to get." The officer was suspicious, but calling to his assistance two men, he went back to the house. Just before reaching the house Red- wine stopped and called the officer aside. "I have no package there;" said he. "I just wanted to get you away so that I could make you an offer. I will give you $1,500 to turn me loose. You can tell them that I was the wrong man. Oh. won't you do it?" And his tone was full of sadness, while his attitude was one of piteous pleading. It was pathetic in its wretchedness and misery. For answer Wimbish jerked him around and said, "Come with me." The jjatrol wagon was a long time in reaching the scene, so the officers put Redwine into a hack. Chief Connolly and Captain Wright had arrived, and with Wimbish took charge of the prisoner. Then on through a channel of staring people the trip to the station house was made. 40 ATLANTA^S BLACK WEEk! A big crowd was in front and several officers were required to make way through it for the prisoner and officers to pass. Redwine stepped out of the hack after Clief Connolly and Captain Wright^ nis eyes were b^nt upon the ground. He walked with nervous step across. the sidewalk and into the front entrance of .the station. He trembled like a leaf. He was afraid of that crowd; was afraid they would do him bodily harm. l.ctween the two officers he ascended the stairs. He did not speak. He moved along with shuffling tread, his face still down- cast. Inside Chief Connolly's office wei'e President A. W. Hill and Mr. J. J. Spalding, who had been detained to represent the depositors. Kedwine walked in among these gentlemen, whom he knew well, •in a manner that plainly showed his sliame. His air was dogged. There was something of defiance even in his bearing. "How d'y'e, Mr Hill," said he, bowing to Mr, Lod Hill. He bowed to the other gentlemen in the ^oom, quickly glancing at their faces, and then as quickly turned away and looked aroimd the office, and seating himself sat looking at them as if they possessed some sort of fascination for him A strange sort of embarrassment seemed to possess the gentlemen in Chief Connolly's office. There was a deep silence while Chief Connolly had Redwine to stand up and submit to being searched. AVhile the officer was going through his pockets, the young man stood mechanically, as if he was resigned to submit to anything. In his right vest pocket a roll of greenbacks was found. It contained §413. A small pocket knife was about the only other article found in his possession. After being searched Redwine took his seat slightly apart from the gentlemen and waited for what was to follow, "Lewis," said Mr. Lod Hill, "what did you do with the money you took from the bank?" "That is all the money I have and, Mr. Hill, it is mine and I took no money from the bank." eedwine's entry into police headquarters. Atlanta's black week. 43 In a long interview that followed, Redwine firmly denied having taken the money. He acknowledged that he knew where $23,000 had gone, but further than that, he knew nothing about the missing money. During the conference Kedwine walked about the room, his hands thrust deep into his trousers pockets, the picture of wretchedness and despair. He wore no collar or cuffs. The waistcoat was thrown open, revealing a vast expanse of shirt front. His haggard unshaven face reflected the misery he was experiencing. Harassed and beset by questions, he seemed on the verge of insanity. After being exhaustively interrogated about the shortage at the bank, the officers turned their attention to trying to find out where he had spent the first night after he had left the bank. Although Kedwine professes ignorance as to where he went, his first hiding place did not long remain a mystery. He said he did not know where he was hidden during the first two days, but he told the officers something that enlightened them on this point. "I was arrested on Wednesday night by Horace Owens," said ho. Owens kept me, waiting for a big reward. He had me guai-ded and I am unable to say where we were. Owens had a man hired to guard me. That man was Black, and he carried me to the house on Rock _ well street last night. After hearing this story. Chief Connolly instructed Captain Manley to have both Owens and Black arrested. Owens stoutly declared that he had received no money from Red- wine, but admitted that Redwine had been seen by several of hia former associates and friends. These friends were in constant com- munication with the defaulter and were directing his movements. Owens refuses to reveal the names of the friends of Redwine who had called on him, saying he would die first. "I w^ holding Redwine while his friends were making up his shortage. I did not want to see him suffer. I did not want to run him out of town. I was acting for Redwine's friends. I wanted to keep him from suicide. I will swear that I did not receive a cent of money for what I did." 44 Atlanta's black week. But an entirely different pliase of this feature of tlie case, de- veloped later — a phase which deserves a chapter by itself, which it shall have later on. Mrs. Cora Howard, at whose house it developed Kedwine stayed the first night after he left the bank, was arrested. This woman's home has been a "household" — if the expression be justified — among- the "half world"' of Atlanta for years and the place she now keeps is said to be an assignation house and, 1 believe is owned by Horace Owens. She said Eedwine came direct from her house from the bank. He told her that he was short in his account with the bank, but that it Avould be made good. She also stated that he had sent for Mr. Dan Kountree, a young attorney who belongs to Kedwine's set, and that Kountree had sp-mt some time with him. She did not know the nature of tlieir conversation. The police felt certain that Cora was telling the truth. They asked her about the searcli that was made of her house, for it shows that th< ;)lice had suspected that Redwine had gone there and had made a search of the house. And, by the way, a funny story is told in this connection. Tlie scene was the (^apital City Club. At the telephone was a young man of Kedwine's set; at the other end of the telephone — so he said — was Chief Connolly. " Have you searched Cora Howard's yet ? " the young man asked The answer is not known. "Well, I'd advise you to do it," and then came the call to Central "Ring off 1035 !" Was the young num giving the Cliief a pointer ? Or was his friendliness in the matter feigned, and did he know that it was a good time for^^the search to be made — a good time from a Kedwine point of view. If the latter, it is [probably well for that particular young man that his father did not know of his act. But I am digressing. You want to know about that search. It was made by Captain Thompson and some of his men and was borough and^complete, except one little closet. There may be a I^\%ril^i EEDWINE REFUSES EO TELL. Atlanta's black week. 47 story in how they overlooked that closet. Was it mere oversight or did Cora throw them ofiE the track? I have heard a story which is to the effect that the gallantry of the officers restrained them from throwing open that closet door, they being assured of the presence behind that door of a fair young personage to whom discovery would be very embarrassing. The name of that fair, but frail fairy was not whispered to the gallant Captain, but if it had been he might have heard — "Kedwine!" And he might not. At any rate, Lewis was behind that door. After Cora had told her story she was released. But Horace Owens and JI. H. Black are held. The latter, by the way, is a black- smith, well-known in Atlanta. He is held simply on the belief that he could tell an interesting storj' about Redwine's capture by Owens and whether or not that capture was simply in the hope of a reward as Owens claimed. To return to the police station: redwine's fathkk calls. During the afternoon Dr. C. L. Redwine, a tall handsome old gen- tleman, with a military bearing and the air of an arristocral, the father of the defaulting cashier called, but the young man positively refused to see him. Dr. Redwine remained at the door, and finally seeing that he was not to be admitted, became angry, and declared tha^ it was his right to be allowed inside to protect the interests of his son. "My boy has stole nothing," he said. "It is impossible that he took the money. He has probably overdrawn his accounts to a small extent, but steal — never ! He has been in the bank for fifteen years and he has always been perfectly honest. He has been trusted by everybody. He did the work of two men. The Hills learned that he was short to a small extent, and as their bank is shaky, they setfted upon my boy as a scapegoat to cover up its weakness. I do not intend they shall do it. I am going to stand by him and see that he gets justice." 48 Atlanta's black week. / The doctor was mad. He probably wouldn't have said all of that if he had not have been. , ^Vlien finally told that his son refused to see him, Dr. Redwine said : "He feels mortified, and does not want me to see him in this con- dition. To-morrow he will be all right. If I cannot see him I will .