ELISHA DODGE’S CONFESSION.

Patea Mail, Volume VIII, Issue 1040, 28 May 1883, Page 4

ELISHA DODGE’S CONFESSION.

LITERATURE.

: * ( Concluded.) When the turnkey announced the visitor,, which he did curtly enough, Elisha glanced up doggedly, expecting the chaplain ; a member of the Young Men’s Christian Association, with a tract; or a lawyer, armed with pen and paper, to write out his confession. He was accustomed to conceal his emotions, but bis face cleared involuntarily when he perceived that the handsome and well-dressed man before him was none of these. Gloomily and sulkily enough he rose, and yielded his chair to the visitor, who sat down easily, with a pleasant nod. He was quick in reading faces, and perceived that, though not welcome to the prisoner, he was evidently less unwelcome than he had prepared himself to expect. He proceeded to business by lighting a fine cigar, and handing another to Elisha. * I daresay you wont mind joining me in a cigar ?” said he, smiling. The fact is, I wanted to see you on a matter entirely personal to myself,' and I thought you might not refuse to gratify my curiosity, particularly as I do not ask you to incriminate anyone, even if you would. And I daresay yon would not,’ he added quickly, perceiving that the prisoner was about to interrupt him. * I have perfect confidence in my servants , so that I shall not ask you if they gave you a helping hand— ’ ‘Are yon Mr Ross Greene V said Elisha, hastily. ‘ I am. And though everyone has told me that no doubt the silver was melted down as soon as stolen, I thought you would be likely to know if a piece were in existence, or, at any rate, that you could tell me when and where it was melted. Of course, if 1 know that it is hopeless for me to think of seeing it again, I shall trouble myself no more about it; but I thought that, under the circumstances, it could make no difference to you— ’ ‘ The silver ain’t melted,’ interrupted the convict. ‘ No V ‘ No ; and, as far as I know, nobody but me knows where ’tis. It’s no good to me where it lies ; and ’tain’t likely to be disturbed by no one; and ’tain’t likely neither that twenty years ’ll pass without its being found.’ He paused, and seemed to consider ; but Mr Ross Greene was too wise to interrupt him. ‘ Guess I’ll tell ye the whole,’ he resumed suddenly. ‘ I’d as leave you’d have the silver as anyone ; and ’twon’t do me no good where ’tis. See here,’ he continued, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, ‘ ever, since I’ve been here folks has be’n naggin’ me to confess, and all the time I was thinkin’ “ Damned if I will 1” and kinder laughin’ to think ef they only knowed where that’ere silver was hid how they’d all scamper off to nab it. Wall, ’tain’t no use to go back and tell you how the house was broke into. You was after us putty quick, so quick that we hadn’t no time to melt the silver down. We meant to do it at a certain place—never mind where, but outside the town ; and the silver was all packed together in a bag that was rigged up to look like a pedlar’s pack. It fell to me to carry it; and the fust night I tried it I found I was watched; and after doublin’ and turnin’ considerable, I bad to put back to cover again. I kept very quiet for two days, and then I tried it again, and I found I was bein’ watched closer’n ever; but my grit was up, and I was bound I’d git out into the country anyway. So I did, along the high road to Dayton. It was snowin’ like enything, and bitter cold. I’d got about half a mile out of town, I guess, when I found 1 was bein’ tracked, and got up behind some evergreens at the side of the road, I waited there till I was ’most froze, then I found ’twa’n’t no use to try and save myself and the silver too ; so I pitched it over a fence into a field. It was snowin’ so hard that I calculated it’d lie safe enough for a day or two anyway, and I made a mark on the fence, so’s’t I could know it again ; then 1 made tracks for abiding as fast as I coaid. The next night I found ’twa’n’t no use to venture out; I was bein’ watched too close, and so for two days and nights. All this while I was awful worried about the silver; but I was bound to have a try for ’t anyhow. The third night I thought Twas in luck. I got safe out of town again, along as far as where I’d made the mark on the fence. The silver was there all right, and I was glad enough to get it on my back again. This time I thought I’d be on the safe side; so instead of goin’ on along the high road, I struck into a little cross road that leads up to Croxton. ’Twa’nt no use; I found I was bein’ followed again : so I turned into the Old Cemetery gate. I was kinder surprised to find it open : but I went on till I come to two or three tall evergreen trees, and then I stood still to listen. By George ! ef I didn’t hear'some one after me again I I kept as still as a mouse ; then I heard a voice say, ‘ He come in here, I know, with the pack on his back.’ Then I hurd ’em talkin’ on, how one was to stand here and another there, and soon. I know’d then ’twa’n’t no time to try and save the silver; but what the devil to do with it I didn’t know. Just then I noticed close by where I was slandin’ there an open tomb ; the pickaxes and spades was standing round, ns if the men had quit work late in the evenin’. I hadn’t no time to lose, and I pitched the silver into the tomb, and I guess it's there now, if nobody ain’t died since.’ ‘Do you remember the appearance of the tomb ?’ said Mr Greene. ‘No, I don’t; and the night was so dark that I couldn’t see nothing. All I know is, there was a pine tree planted each side of the door, and I made a deep jagged cnt in one of the trees with my knife. I couldn’t do more—l had no lime. I was nabbed the next morning.’

‘ Thank you,’ said Mr Ross Greene, rising, as the key was turned in the door. ‘ See here,’ said the convict, rising also ; don’t you tell nobody till you’ve i found that ’ere silver. ' There’s many a slip between the cup and the lip, you know.’ - ‘ I will be careful ; thank you,’ sa *d Mr Green, laughing, as he followed the turnkey. ‘Home, sir?’ said the coachman, as ho took his seat in the carriage. ‘No; to the Old Cemetery,’ ‘ After all, a pine tree planted on each side of the door is no very good landmark,’ said Mr Ross Greene to himself, as he was bowled along rapidly over the road which led to flic Old Cemetery; ‘and who knows that the man was speaking the truth ? Ho looked a clover amhumms follow, quite capable of enjoying the idea of my rummaging these old tombs like a vampire.’ Indeed, in any case, the indication given by the convict was none of the clearest, as there were many vaults in the Old Cemetery with pine trees before the door. Before the gate of the Old Cemetery was reached, Mr Greene had quite reasoned himself into incredulity, and got out of the carriage indifferently enough. He walked slowly up the broad central alley, glancing right and left at the pine trees which flanked the doors of the tombs on cither*side, and congratulated himself on having been previously prepared for disappointment, when he observed that there was not a mark on any one of them. Still, since be was a man who was in the habit of doing things thoroughly, he turned to walk down a cross alley, when he was accosted by the keeper with, ‘ Yonr vault’s in the angle to the left, near the wall, Mr Greeno.’ ‘ Mine !’ he ’ replied, starting. ‘ I have no vault here.’ ‘ Well, old Miss Betsy’s, Ross’s vault, anyway. I hecred she’d left it to yon, along with her other property, and it’s one of the handsomest vaults there is here. I’ve been kinder surprised that we ain’t seen yon here before,’ continued the keeper, with a fine sense of hospitality. ‘ It is true, I ought to have come, said Mr Greene ; ‘ but the poor old lady died while I was in Europe, and I confess that I have been in no hurry to take possession of this part of my inheritance,’ he added with a smile. ‘ Here it is,’ said the keeper, ‘By Jove, so it is,’ exclaimed Mr Greene. But he was not admiring the vault, though it was as handsome as a vault can be. He was looking at the two pine-trees which flanked the entrance. A deep jagged cut disfigured one of them, and within the low door, when it was opened, was found a pedlar’s pack, containing the lost silver. No. 4 was removed Jo the State prison that night. His conduct there does not concern, this story. Suffice it to say that, every now and then, little alleviations of his captivity reach him, and that he knows as well as if he had been told in words that the silver was found where he left it, and that these gifts are the results of his confession.