Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 December 1888 — THE INSIDE MAN. [ARTICLE]

THE INSIDE MAN.

By a Se cret Service Detective.

When, in April, 1864, a new and almost perfect counterfeit five-dollar bill on the First National bank of Whitewater, Wis., was set afloat in large quantities, there was consternation at headquarters in Washington. Th§ bills appeared on the same day in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Portland, Augusta, Buffalo and Chicago,proving that a large and well organized gang had begun work. Many good counterfeits had been issued, but this was perhaps the best of all. 1 hey were unhesitatingly taken by cashiers in stores and banks, and the amount put in emulation in a week was over SIOO,OOO. They were still being accepted as all right when a market woman in Bostor became suspicious of one she had taken and had it forwarded to the treasury department, where its baseness was- atonce detected. At that date every counterfeiter in the country was known by name, and we could make a pretty correct guess at each man’s line of work. After- comparing notes for several days we came to the conclusion that this issue was the work of a man named George Ashman, alias “Ashes.” He.had left the country a year and a half before, and perhaps had the bill engraved in London or Paris. No one knew where to locate or look for him, and only one man in the bureau could describe him. When the case was assigned to me he called me in and said: “The last time I saw ‘Ashes’ he had a round, full face, beardless, and tw’o front teeth in the upper jaw had been knocked out by accident. He is five feetsix, very chunky, short neck, very small feet, and sports lots of jewelry when in luck. He is down on the records as ‘dangerous.’ He will shoot you if he has the chance. He is somewhere between Maine and California, and I’ll give you a month in whichto find him.” It was the saying “A needle in a hay stack,” illustrated. He was one of 40,000,000 people in the country. He had a hundred thousand towns and cities for shelter. Noone could advise me which way to go, indeed, it mattered not’which way I turned my face. Nothing but luck could assist me in discovering the arch counterfeiter. When I left Washington I had a ticket for Logansport, Ind. Why I selected that point, instead of one in Maine, Vermont, Michigan or Nebraska, I cannot say. It seemed to me that I ought to go to Logansport to get my start, and so I went. Not a bill had been put afloat there. After a day or two I went on to Lafayette. It was the same there, but accident gave me a c ue. There were half a dozen strangers at the hotel, and as I sat in the office in the evening I heard one of them • making inquiries of the clerk in regard to a stage line operating between the city and a village twelve or fifteen miles,away. He was told that the stage left next day at three o’clock, and he paid his bill until after dinner and secured a seat. That man could by no possibility bp Ashman. He had a lull beard,wis^eeth were all in place, and nothing in his personal appearance answered the description, I had turned to my paper when the landlord said: “Whitewater? Why, I used to live there!. Have they got a national bank there? Just issued, eh?” I pricked up my ears like a_ fox, and as I turned my face to the saw the landlord [closely new greenback. “It’s all right,” said the stranger. “Oh, of course it’s all right. Wish I had a million of ’em.” Half an hour-later I wanted that bill to send off in a letter, and I wanted so badly that I exchanged a five-dollar gold piece for it. As soon as I could compare it I knew that it was one A s the counterfeits. There was a private bank in the town which made a practice of exchanging money and two regular banking institutions. Before ten o’clock that night I found that every one of them had been stuck. = The stranger had exchanged about SI,OOO in all, and

his counterfeits had passed without a word. Z .J could have arrested him that night, but after thinking the matter over I made up my mind that he was going to a rendezvous, and that by giving him rope I might make a bigger haul. He did not come down to breakfast next morning, and he had no sooner eaten hia dinner than he disappeared to remain in hiding nntil just as the stage was ready to start. When it rolled away he was the inside man and I the outside man. He looked me over pretty closely, eaw nothing suspicious, and gave me no further attention. We bad gone about two miles when the driver, who had been sizing me up to his satisfaction and . maintaining a severe silence, leaned over and whispered: “ What do von think of him?” “Who?” “Man inside.” “He’s a stranger, but all right, I guess.” “Is he? Carries two revolvers ami a knife with him. Two of his friends came ont with me yesterday, and they wer,e hard characters, I’ll bet he’s a robber.” “I shouldn’t think it.” “He’s gtit two false teeth in front, I saw him take ’em out. Them don’t look like regular whiskers to me. either. He’s a bad ’tin or I’m no judge.” It came to me in a moment that the man inside was Ashman, and the next moment I was planning how to arrest him. He was armed and a desperate man, but he would be far more dangerous with his pals back of him. We had gone six miles, and had just crossed a small bridge, when the nigh wheels fell into a washout and the coach canted over and rolled into a deep ditch. There was rime for me to jump, and the driver also saved himself. The man inside had no chance, and the fall threw him gainst the side of the coach with such violence that he was senseless when I clambered up and found him. My first move was to slip on the handcuffs; the next to remove his weapons. In three or four minutes he regained consciousness, and when he came to realize his situation he did some awful cursing. He was in for it, however, and that night he slept in a stout jail. In his satchel was about $29, ojo oi the “queer,” and we had such a strong case that he plead guilty when the trial came on and took his sentence of fifteen years without a wink. He lived to serve ten of it, and then died of fever.