Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 September 1890 — A CONVICT'S THREAT. [ARTICLE]

A CONVICT'S THREAT.

BY E. T. TAGGAKD.

The jury in the Court of had already been out nearly an hour. Owing to their prolonged absence, the judge had left the bench, and the few ; interested spectators, who remained in court, in the absence of the judge, vacated their seats, replaced their hats, and gathering in little Knots, began earnestly to discuss the probabilities of a verdict. The 3 prisoner, Robert Taylor, a swarthy-visaged. powerfully framed man, appeared the least concerned Of all who remained in the room, and conversed with a few friends who gathered at his side, with an air of utter indifference, and appealed to be unconscious of the fact that upon the 3 result of the jury’s deliberation depended bis liberty. The charge against him was burglary. and I was the principal witness against him;., and indeed it was upon my evidence that, he was convicted. Returning home to my boarding house late one night, I met Bob Taylor, the prisoner, emerging from the house, with a well-filled carpet-bag. I knew him tobea stranger, and as I eyed him closely, he quickened.his pace. I followed. He ran. Then, satisfied of his guilt, I pursued him and raised an alarm. When ho reached the first corner, he pulled a revolver from his pocket and pointed it at me, but before he could pull the trigger, he was . felled to., tbe earth by a heavy and well-directed blow of a policeman’s club. For this he was now placed upon trial. Though apparently an attentive list—ener to- the—remarks <>f his friends, ' professional ones undoubtedly, who were whispering wordS'Of encouragement to him, I discovered, when I occasionally glanced toward him, that ho was glaring at me under his heavy eyebrows, and the snake-like glitter of his eve, and the demoniac expression that ' accompanied it made me shudder. After an absence extending over ah hour, the rumor reached the court that the jury were coming. All were seated again, hats were removed, the judge returned and resumed his place upon the bench, and the jury, filing in one by one. marched. to their places and were seated. Then was heard, in clear, ringing tones, the voice of the clerk: ■•Prisoner, standup!” ’ The prisoner stood up. of the jury, stand up!” The jurors obeyed. “Prisoner, look upon the jury—jury, look upon the prisoner.” The request was obeyed. “What say you, gentlemen of the jury, do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty, or not guilty, of the offence charged?” “Guilty!” answered the foreman. “Prisoner,” said the judge, “after an impartial trial you have been found guilty of the crime of burglary. The jury, after q patient and prolonged deliberation have so recorded their verdict. Nothing now remains for the court but to pass its sentence upon you, which is that you be imprisoned in the State prison for the term of five years.” The trial was over and the spectators tiled out of court, myself among , the number. When I passed Bob Taylor he called me to him. “John Styles,” he whispered in my ear, and every word. sounded _to me like the rattle of a snake, “you have been the means of sending me to prison. I go. But beware. Look to 1 * I _ ? . • • 1 • A •

yourself. There is no jail in America 1 can hold Bob Taylor six months, and when 1 escape my first shall be ' to you. Go where you will, I shall find you as certain as a blood hound does its prey. Andwhen I -find you, John Styles, look to yourself, for then my revenge shall be speedy.’’ “My dear sir,” said I in an expostulating manner, “I but did my duty.” ••You did it well,” said he, “and my duty shall be done equally well. Say your prayers, my boy. for your life alone will satisfy Bob Taylor.” -.- The handcuffs were placed upon his wrists, and as he was being marched from the court room on his way to the county jail he turned toward me and gave me a look that I shall never forget, so full of fiendishness that it seemed to me as though I was gating on a demon himself. “Do you know anything of this prisoner?” said I to a detective who lingered in the court room after the prisoner had departed. “Do I know Bob Taylor! Better ask me if I know myself.” “What is his character?” • 'He’s a bad man.” __ “He has threatened me because I appeared against him.” ••Well, my friend,” said the detective, “if he has threatened to take your life he’ll take it I’ve had considerable experience with convicts in my day and generation, but I’ll tell you what, my boy, I’d rather the whole kit and crowd of them would threaten me than that Bob Taylor, Why there was our old sergeant, he railroaded Bob got him dead to rights, give him the collar and up he went. What was the consequence? Bob got two years. Two years and one day from that date the sargeant was killed, struck from behind at night with a sand club. We arrested Bob, but he had covered his tracks well, and as we could prove nothing against hiip he was discharged. Look out for hl tn, neighbor; he is a bad egg.” The character, revengeful disposition, and steadfastness of purpose of the convict alarmed me. At present he was-securely in the iron grip of the law, but how ilong would he remain po? And if ne should escape? I not bear to think of the eonsequences to myself if such a thing should occur; but from the, knowledge of the desperate character of the man

which I derived from the detective, I determined to leave nothing undone to secure my safety. Six months passed, and amid the cares and anxieties of everyday life I had almost forgotten the episode of the court room. One evening we had a large party at Our house. The music was delightful, the ladies Were in their'most fascinating mood, and-enjoyment was general, when a loud ring was heard at the door-bell. In a short time the servant entered with a telegram. It was for me. I was engaged in dancing a quadrille at the time, and with the permission of my fair partner I opened it. It read as follows: , “To John Styles, New York City:— Bob Taylor escaped last night “T. Johnson, Keeper. ” Excusing myself I rushed to my room, seized my overcoat and hat, and left the house. He had escaped over twenty-four hours before, and perhaps even now was shadowing me to my death. My only way was to quit my old haunts, stop at a hotel temporarily until he was recaptured, or if the police failed to arrest him, to leave the city, I went to the nearest hotel, and secured a room on the top floor, Jor I desired to be as far removed from danger as possible. • Securely locking my door, I retired; but pot to sleep, for the dangers that beset me were of so alarmipg a character that sleep became a stranger to my eyes While I thus lay in a half dreamy condition, I heard a fall in the room. I tried to jump to my feet, but an iron grip was placed upon my throat. I tried to call for help, but' the glittering blade of a.dagger was uplifted to my gaze andmade medumb. It was the’ Convict, Bob Taylor. “Didn’t I tell you I would meet you again, John Styles? Bob Taylor always keeps his word. They didn't treat me very roughly up in the prison, and I ‘Was pretty comfortable,* everything considering, but I said to myself, ‘now Bob-, you've got an_engagement w-ith-that.ere chap that thought he was doing Kis~duty~ when he sent you up here. Honor is honor you know, and when, you make an engagement you are bound to keep it right up to the handle every time.’ “I watched my chance, hid away in the shop when they were all going into supper, afterward crawled down to the railroad track, dropped on top of a freight car, laid myself flat, and as it was dark when wc reached the city, 1 jiis^,watched my Opportunity. Slipped into an area-way, robbed the first man 1 that came along of his clothing, and went to your house-.” - ••Mercy ! ” cried I. “Mercy, eh? I’ve got a duty toperform now. Did you think I didn’t seeyou when you came out of your house and jumped on the car? You got on the front platform. 1 stepped on the back. You came into this hotel and engaged a room. I waited until you had been there some time, went to the j hotel Office, asked for the number, on the pleathat I was a friend, ascended r tb it, but on peeping through the fan- ! light I saw that your room contained a scuttle leading to the roof. ’He’s my meat,’said I. ‘lt’s’ safer, my boy, to 'drop through scuttles, than to force doors. I ascended to the roof, pried open the scuttle, and here I am.’” “Do not kill me!” said I, in course accents, for he held my throat, likea... vice, and I was almost choking., “Take my valuables, take iffy money, but do not take my life.”

“Kill you! Why, I’ll kill you as though you were a pig! Thinkyou Ihave worn the prison stripes for six months for nothing? Think you I have worn my fingers to the bone for nothing? Stood a whipping at the post, and borne the shower-bath, and not have my sweet revenge? In one minute you die! Oh! revenge is sweet!” I saw the fatal knife raised; with a tremendous effort I threw him off, clutched the raised arm, and gave vent to agonizing screams. He had the Btrengh of ah athlete, and we were evenly matched. Across the room we struggled. I could hear steps approaching. They reached the door of my room and I begged them to. break it in. My strength failed me. For a moment! beheldthe gleaming knife aloff. I saw it descend. I felt its sharp sting in my side. I fell. When I recovered consciousness I was still in my room, and near me stood Bob Taylor, heavily ironed. A doctor was attempting to stop the bleeding from my wound. They removed me to my home, and for many days my life wavered in the balance, but, thanks to a good constitution and excellent nursing, I recovered my health again. After he had stabbed me Bob Taylor attempted to ascend to the roof through the scuttle. A police officer was there awaiting him, and with a heavy blow of his locust he knocked him senseless into the room below, where he was secured by the attaches of the house who had succeeded in entering my roomThe next day he was coveyed back to State prison. I was not yet safe, however, for within three months I received a telegram that Bob Taylor had eacaped again. Would not prison bars, armed keepers and heavy shackles hold that man? Was Ito be ever thus hounded to death because I had done my duty as a good eitizen and given my evidence against him? What nervous anxiety I suffered, what terrors I now endured, no mind can picture, no pen can paint Every step upon the stairs drove me to agony. If the window rattled I thought it was my persecutor in pursuit of me. Ten days had passed. I had not left the house during that time, and so rapidly had I diminished in flesh that my condition was alarming. The anxiety of my friends was also apparent, for the long continued excitement was threatening to drive me mad. A letter came directed to we. I

opened it with trembling hands. It read as follow's: John Styles, Esq:—For the last ten days, otir sewer has teen stopped. To-day we investigated the cause and found the* dead body of a. convict wedged in the pipe into which he had crawled, expecting thus to reach the river and escape. He must have been overcome by the poisonous gases and miserably perished. We removed the body, and it has been fully identified as that of Bob Taylor, the notorious convict.” ' I cftuld read no more. Overcome with conflicting emotions, I fainted. I was soon restored to consciousness, however, but if I was to live a hundred years I can never forget my adventures with the convict.