FullReads

In short, Jake–(by any other name he was just as guilty)–had slain his wife, presumably in cold blood. At any rate, Mr. Squires, sustained by the information received from Marshal Crow, (who had gone deeply into the case), stated in cold type that it had been done in cold blood.

Apparently Jake had decided that he was tired of dodging the inevitable. It was quite clear that he could not endure the thought of being “swung” for his diabolical deed.

The account also stated that Marshal Crow had at once advised the Western authorities by telegraph that he had their man, but regretted to state the scoundrel had anticipated arrest in the manner now so well known to the readers of the Banner, long recognized as the most enterprising newspaper in that part of the State of New York.

A day or two later, after the inquest, an officer arrived from Sandusky. He was a spectator at the funeral of Jake Miller, whom he readily identified as the slayer of Mrs. Camp, and was afterwards a most interested listener to the recital given on Lamson’s porch by Marshal Crow, who, described with considerable zest and surprising fidelity the manifold difficulties he had experienced in “running the criminal to earth,”–one of the most puzzling cases he had ever been called upon to tackle.

The astonished officer walked over to the Grand View Hotel with Harry Squires. From time to time he passed his hand over his brow in a thoroughly puzzled manner.

“I don’t mind telling you, Mr. Squires,” he blurted out at last, “that we hadn’t the faintest idea that this fellow Camp was as desperate a character as all this. We looked upon him as a rather harmless, soft-headed guy,–but, my God, he turns out to be one of the slickest all-round crooks in the United States. No wonder he managed to give us the slip all these years. It only goes to show how even the best of us can be fooled in a man.”

“That’s right,” agreed Harry. “It certainly does show how you can be fooled in a man.”

“When I get back home and tell ’em at headquarters what a slick duck he was, they’ll throw a fit. Why, by Gosh, we all thought he was a nut,–a plain nut.”

“Far be it from me,” said Harry, “to speak ill of either the living or the dead.”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t up and blow the head off this old Rube when he found he was about to be cornered.”

Harry took that moment to relight his pipe, and then abruptly said “Good night” to the gentleman from Sandusky.

As he rejoined the group in front of Lamson’s, Marshal Crow was saying:

“I’m mighty glad Harry Squires had sense enough not to say in the Banner that as soon as Jake Miller found out that the jig was up, he took the law in his own hands, and lynched himself.”