Volume 10 — CLOSING ADDRESS IN SECOND STAR ROUTE TRIAL (continued 2)

There is one little piece of testimony to which I failed to call your attention on Friday, and to which I will call your attention now. Moore was the friend of Boone. Boone recommended him to Miner. It was through Boone that Moore was employed. Now, I ask you if it is not wonderful that Moore never told Boone that there was a conspiracy on foot? Is it not wonderful that Moore did not tell Boone, his friend, the man to whom he was indebted for the employment, "There is a conspiracy in this case. Senator Dorsey as good as told me so. I know all about it."

The fact is he never said one word, and the reason we know it, is that Boone swears that when he went out on the 7th or 8th of August he never even suspected it. I cannot, it seems to me, make this point too plain. Boone had been known by Dorsey for a long time. They were very good friends. Dorsey had enough confidence in him to select him as the man to get the necessary information after he had been requested so to do in the letter. Boone was the man who attended to this business more than anybody else. Boone was interested with John W. Dorsey. Boone had every reason to find out exactly what was happening. He was at Dorsey's house, where Miner was. He talked with Miner day after day. He helped get up the bids. He did a great deal of mechanical work. He had the subcontracts printed. Yet during all that time Dorsey never let fall a chance expression that gave Boone even the dimmest dawn of a hint that there was a conspiracy. Nobody told Boone. Moore, his friend, never spoke of it.

Now, there is one other point with regard to Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore swears, on page 1371, that Miner offered him a fourth interest in these routes. That was the conversation in which he said Mr. Miner told him they were good affidavit men. According to Moore's testimony he then knew there was a conspiracy, and he understood that he was part and parcel of it. Let me ask you right here, is it probable that Moore would have been offered a quarter interest at that time if a conspiracy existed, and if they had their plans laid to make hundreds of thousands of dollars, and if the profits had depended upon the affidavits alone? I ask you, as sensible, reasonable men, if he would have been offered a quarter interest under those circumstances? Now conies in what I believe to be the falsehood. Mr. Moore says that the interest was offered to him by Miner, but Miner said it would have to be ratified by Stephen W. Dorsey. That is brought in for the purpose of having some evidence against Dorsey. You must recollect, gentlemen, that this evidence was all purchased. This evidence was all bargained for in the open shamble. You must recollect that there are upon the records of this court some seven or ten indictments against A. E. Boone. You must remember that Moore was Boone's friend. You must remember that Moore was a part of the consideration that Boone was giving to the Government for immunity.

Mr. Merrick. Is there any proof of that?

Mr. Ingersoll. I think there is. Mr. Moore swears as to the number of indictments against Boone. He was his friend. The jury have a right to infer what motive prompts a witness. Moore wished to swear enough, so that Mr. Boone would not be troubled. In my judgment, Mr. Boone, being under indictment, gave evidence in this case in order that the Government would take its clutch from his throat. He swore under pressure. That is the system, gentlemen, that is dangerous in any country. Whenever a Government advertises for witnesses; whenever a Government says to a guilty man, or to a man who is indicted, "All we ask of you is to help us convict somebody else;" whenever they advertise for a villain, they get him. That is the result of what they call the informer system—an infamous system. A court of justice, where justice is done between man and man, is the holiest place on earth. The informer system turns it into a den, into a cavern, into a dungeon, where crawl the slimy monsters of perjury and treachery. That is the informer system. It makes a court a den of wild beasts. What else does it do? Under its brood and hatch come spies; spies to watch witnesses, spies to watch counsel, spies to follow jurymen, so that a juror cannot leave his house without the shadow of the spy falling upon his door-step. That is not the proper attitude of a Government. The business of a Government is to protect its citizens, not to spread nets. The business of a Government is to throw its shield of power in front of the rights of every citizen. I hold in utter, infinite, and absolute contempt any Government that calls for informers and spies. Every trial should be in the free air. All the work should be done openly. These sinister motions in the dark, the crawling of these abnormal and slimy things, I abhor.

Now, to come back to Moore. Upon my word I think he was trying to help his friend. After Mr. Miner had offered him a quarter interest, then he came back to Washington. He arrived here, according to his evidence, about the 11th day of July, I think. He went immediately to see Stephen W. Dorsey. Recollect that. That was the time Dorsey settled with him without looking at his books. After he settled with him and gave him two hundred and fifty dollars he asked him to telegraph to see if the service had been put on The Dalles and Baker City route. He waited here until he received an answer, and after that he talked with Dorsey not only about that matter, but in that conversation Dorsey said, according to Moore, that it took a good deal of money to keep up their influence in the department. When I asked him when that conversation was, he said two or three days after the first conversation. According to the evidence in this case Stephen W. Dorsey left this city on the 12th of July. This man Moore arrived on the nth, and he says two or three days after his arrival Dorsey said it took money to keep up their influence here. When he swears that Dorsey told him that, Dorsey was in the city of Oberlin, Ohio. Recollect these things. Whoever tells stories of this character should have a most excellent memory.

Now, there is another thing. When did Miner get back? He got back by the 24th of July, because on the 24th of July he settled with Moore, and I believe then Moore went West again. Now, remember there was a contract made, as Moore swears. He has not got it. Nobody sees it. He says there was a contract made by which he had a fourth interest in something. He got back here I believe some time in November, and on the 20th of November he and Miner settled. I will now look on page 1430 for that settlement. I want you to see how everything was situated at that time.

I find on page 1430 that Mr. Miner settled for everybody with Mr. A. W. Moore. Remember the situation. Moore knew there was a conspiracy. All the service was on. You see, this was November 20, 1880. Vaile was in. They had a man who was close to Brady. Everything was running in magnificent style. Mr. Moore understood that there was a conspiracy. What more did he understand? That he had the claw of his avarice in the flesh of a United States Senator and in the flesh of a Second Assistant Postmaster-General. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were to be made. He came back here and settled up and sold out his interest for how much? Six hundred and eighty-two dollars. Do you believe that? Credulity would not believe it. Nobody believes it, that is if the rest of the story is true. Why did he settle with him for so little? He said Mr. Miner told him he hadn't a dollar. He did not reply to him, "When this conspiracy is completed you will have plenty. I can wait." No. Miner said he hadn't anything and so Moore settled for six hundred and eighty-two dollars. Then I asked him, "You had a contract with Dorsey, did you?" "Yes; verbally." "Did you ever say anything to Dorsey about it?" "No." "Did you ever claim anything from Dorsey?" "No." "Did you ever write to him?" "No." "Did you ever say anything to anybody that you had any claim against Dorsey?" "No." You saw Mr. Moore, gentlemen, here upon the stand. Do you think he is the kind of man who would let such a chance slip? It is for you to judge. In my judgment that is the eternal end of Moore's testimony. We can call him buried. We can put the sod over his grave. We can raise a stone to the memory of A. W. Moore. Let him rest in peace, or to use the initials only, let him R. I. P. That is the end of him. If the Government wishes to dig up the corpse hereafter let them dig.

Mr. Ker. I would like—

Mr. Ingersoll. [Interposing.] I don't want to hear from you.

The Court. You do not know what he is going to say.

Mr. Ingersoll. He may be intending to make a motion that the jury be instructed to find a verdict of not guilty.

Mr. Ker. As Mr. Merrick will have to answer, he simply wants to know the page.

Mr. Ingersoll. If Mr. Merrick wants to know the page he shall have the page, or anybody that wishes to answer. If counsel had simply asked me for the page, without getting up in such a solemn manner, I would have told him.

On page 1406, Mr. Moore says that he went to Dorsey and got the money, and that then Dorsey requested him to telegraph to The Dalles, and that he did not see Dorsey after he got the answer to his dispatch, I think, for two or three days. He reached Washington, he says, about the 11th. On page 1372, he speaks of telegraphing to The Dalles by instructions from Dorsey.

Now, gentlemen, I am going to call your attention for a little while to another witness, Mr. Rerdell. And in the commencement, I need not refresh your minds with regard to the part he has played. I need not, in the first instance, tell you about his affidavit of June, 1881, nor his affidavit of July 13, 1882, nor his pencil memorandum, nor his Chico letter, nor his offer to pack the jury on behalf of the Government, nor the signals he had agreed upon, nor the reports he made from day to day, nor the affidavit of September that he made for the Government, nor of November nor of February. All these things you remember and remember perfectly. I will speak of them as I reach them, but I want you to keep in your minds who he is.

I need not call any names. Epithets would glance from his reputation like bird-shot from the turret of a monitor. The worst thing I can say about him is to call him Mr. Rerdell. All epithets become meaningless in comparison. The worst thing I can say after that would have the taint of flattery in it. You will remember when Enobarbus was speaking to Agrippa about Cæsar, he says, "Would you praise Cæsar, say Cæsar. Go no further." And I can say, "If you wish to abuse this witness, say Mr. Rerdell. Go no further." That is as far as I shall go.

You will remember that Mr. Rerdell was in the employ of Stephen W. Dorsey, and had been for several years. He does not pretend that he was ever badly used; he does not say before you that Mr. Dorsey ever did to him an unkind act, ever said an unkind word. In all the record of the years that he was with him he finds no page blotted with an unjust act, not one. He has no complaint to make. Under those circumstances he voluntarily goes to see a man by the name of Clayton, I think an ex-Senator from Arkansas, known to him at that time to be an enemy of Stephen W. Dorsey, an enemy of his employer, an enemy of his friend—his friend, whose bread this witness had eaten for years, whose roof had protected him, who had trusted and treated him like a human being. Yet he goes to this man Clayton, and he says, in substance, "I want to sell out my friend to the Government." He was not actuated exactly by patriotism, although he says he was. The promptings of virtue may have started him, but after he got started he said to himself, "I do not see that it hurts virtue to be rewarded." So he said, "I want some pay for this; I want a steamboat route reinstated; I want the Jennings claim allowed. Of course I am disinterested in what I am doing, but I might as well have something, if it is going." "What else do you want?" The disinterested patriot suggested that he would like to have a clerkship for his father-in-law. "Anything else?" If you will read his letter of July 5, 1882, which I will read to you before I get through, you will see that he says, "If I had remained with the Government I have every reason to believe I would have had a good position by this time." So he must have demanded a clerkship for himself—good, honest man. At that time he did not know, but swore it afterwards and swore it here upon the stand, that Dorsey had never done anything wrong; and yet he was willing to sell him to the Government, believing that he had never done anything wrong. So he went and saw the Postmaster-General. The Postmaster-General did not appear to take any great interest in the matter. He turned him over to the Attorney-General. He showed the Postmaster-General what he had, and read him, I believe, or showed him some memoranda. Then he went and saw the Attorney-General. The Postmaster-General did not seem to give him encouragement. Then when he went to see MacVeagh he took with him a letter-book—I do not know but more than one—but we will say a letter-book. Now, what was in that letter-book? And, gentlemen, the only way to find whether a man tells the truth is to take all the circumstances into consideration. What did he want to do? What was his object? And what were the means at his command? For instance, it is said that a man left his house with the intention of murdering another, and that he had on his table a loaded revolver, and also had on his table a small walking-stick, and he took with him the walking-stick. You would say he did not intend to commit the murder; that if he had so intended he would have taken the deadly weapon. In other words, you must believe that men, acting for the accomplishment of a certain object, use the natural means within their power.

Now, what did he have in that letter-book? He swears now that in that letter-book there was a copy of a letter from Stephen W. Dorsey to James W. Bosler; that the original letter was written by Stephen W. Dorsey. That press-copy, of course, would show that the original letter was in the handwriting of S. W. Dorsey. What does he swear was in that letter? He swears that Dorsey made a proposition to Bosler to go into the business; told him the profits, and told him that he had to give thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B.; that he had already paid him, I think, twenty thousand dollars, and had more to pay him. According to the testimony of Mr. Rerdell, that was in the letter-book that he took to Mr. MacVeagh. Now, recollect that. Why did he not show it? He had forgotten it. He showed him what he had. Recollect now, that he had a tabular statement. I think the letter showed so much money to T. J. B., and the tabular statement thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B. He had that tabular statement, and that was in Dorsey's handwriting. He says he had it. Well, after that, the Attorney-General must have told him, "That is not enough; I want some more." "Well," he says, "I can let you have some more." "What more can you let us have?" Well, then he told him about the red books; I do not know that he said they were red, but he told him about the books and that those books were in New York, and he would go over there and get them; that he was going to steal them; he says he went over to get them, and afterwards admitted, I believe that lie was stealing them.

Now, we must remember the position Rerdell was in. He had been to Clayton, to the Postmaster-General in company with Mr. Woodward, and to the Attorney-General in company with Mr. Woodward, and yet there was not enough. Well, it was all he had. What more could he do? He suddenly found himself caught in his own trap. He had furnished enough to trouble him, but not enough to convict Dorsey, and not enough to be promised immunity. Now, what had he to do? He did exactly as he did with Mr. Woodward in September, when he made that affidavit, and when Woodward said it was not enough; he said, "Very well, I will make another," the same as he did when he made the affidavit of seventy pages in November and found it was a little weak. He made another, and he would have made them right along. He had a factory running night and day. Now, he tells you that while he was talking with MacVeagh, just towards the last of the conversation, the idea flashed into his brain that he might save Dorsey too. Don't you remember that testimony? And as quick as he thought of that, he agreed to go to New York and steal the books. The very last thing that MacVeagh said to him, according to MacVeagh's testimony, and I believe according to his own, was to be sure and get the books; that they were all important. So he went, as he claims. Now, did it occur to him that he would save Dorsey in that way? Did he think of saving Dorsey by going and getting these books? That was the last thing, and he was going to get the books to be used as evidence against Dorsey.

In a few days he says he started for New York, and the question arises, why did Rerdell go to New York at all? Why did he want to see that the books were in New York? Why did he pretend that he had any more evidence unless he had it? You see you have got to get at the philosophy of this man; you have got to find what actuated him; and although in many respects he is abnormal, unnatural, monstrous, and morally deformed, still it may be that we can find the philosophy upon which he acted. Why did he say he was going to New York? Because the Attorney-General told him—he must have told him—that the evidence he then had was not sufficient. Rerdell could not break down right there and say, "That is all I have got." That would give up the fight; that would tell him that he had endeavored to sell out his friend and nobody would buy the evidence; that would tell him that he had tried this and had failed; that he had simply succeeded in showing his own treachery without involving his friend. He could not stop there. You must recollect the evidence he had, and the evidence he wanted.

Let us see what he had. Mr. Bliss says, "Why did he say the books were in New York? Why did he not say they were in Washington?" That would not have given him time, gentlemen. He would have been told, "Go and get them." Then he could not have produced them. Consequently he put them in the possession of somebody else, so that if he failed to get them, then he could say that the other man destroyed them or had hid them; he could have said, "I have done my best; they did exist, but they have been destroyed, or they have been hidden, or they have been put out of the way." He wanted time, and knowing that no such books existed, he could not say, "I have them in Washington," because then he could give no excuse for their non-production. He must state it in such a way that he could reasonably fail; that is to say, that he could give a reason for his failure. He could not say, "I have them in my house," because he would have been told to go and get them. So he put them in the possession of another man, so that, failing to get them, as fail he must, he could give a reasonable excuse for the failure.

Why did he go to New York? I will tell you what my philosophy is: He found that the Government did not wish to purchase the evidence that he had. He found that, in the judgment of the expert of the Department of Justice, it was not sufficient. The next thing was to retrace his steps. He did not want to jump off of one boat into the sea and find no other boat to rescue him. He said: "I have been too hasty; I will go to New York." Why? To find out whether Dorsey had heard of this or not. That is what he went there for. The inferior man always imagines that the superior knows what he is doing, and knows what he has done. He found that he was about to fail with the Government, and then the important question to him was: Has Dorsey found this out? Can I go back to Dorsey? Or must I go on and be cast away by him and be refused by the Government?

Now let me call another thing to your minds. I will come to it again, but it forces itself upon me at this place, and it seems to me it ought to be absolutely conclusive.

He swears that on the day after he went to MacVeagh with that letter-book, in looking it over he found the press-copy of the original letter that Dorsey wrote to Bosler on the 13th of July, 1879. says that the next day he found that copy in that copy-book. Why did he not steal the book? Conscientious scruples, gentlemen! You see he was going to New York to steal another. Why not steal one that he already had possession of? And how much better that book would have been than the other that he was going to get. This was a copy of a letter in Dorsey's handwriting, in which he admitted that he had paid twenty thousand dollars to T. J. B., and was going to pay him some more, while that book in New York was not in Dorsey's handwriting—admitting, for the sake of the argument, that there was a book—but was in the handwriting of Donnelly or Rerdell. See? And right there he had the evidence, absolutely conclusive, in the handwriting of S. W. Dorsey himself, and he did not even keep it, he did not even steal it, but he gave it back and went to New York to steal a book that Dorsey did not write. He threw away primary evidence to get secondary evidence. He threw away that which would have convicted Dorsey beyond a doubt, which would have made him a welcome recruit to the Government. He threw that away and went to New York to get another, a line of which Dorsey never wrote; and then he would have to establish, after he got that book, that "William Smith" stood for Thomas J. Brady; he would have to prove after they got that book that "John Smith" or "Samuel Jones" stood for Turner. Now, gentlemen, do you believe that that man, with his ideas of honor, with the kind of a conscience he has in his bosom, with the copy of a letter in Dorsey's handwriting in his possession admitting that Dorsey gave twenty thousand dollars to T. J. B., would give that up and then go to the city of New York to steal a book not in Dorsey's handwriting, and that did not prove that Dorsey had ever paid a cent to Thomas J. Brady, in which there was one charge to "William Smith," and that would have to be eked out by the testimony of Rerdell himself, when he had right there in his own grasp and clutch the press-copy of the original letter written by Dorsey himself? Do you believe it? There is not a man on that jury believes it; there is not a lawyer prosecuting this case who believes it.

What else did he have? He had a letter that he himself, as he claims, wrote to Bosler on the 22d of May, 1880, after he, Rerdell, had been summoned to appear before a committee of Congress. He had, he says, those three sheets.

What else did he have the morning after he was talking with MacVeagh? He had the tabular statement in the handwriting of Stephen W. Dorsey, and over the Brady column, "T. J. B., thirty-three and one-third per cent."

What more did that man have? He had the balance-sheets made out, as he swears, by Donnelly, of those books. Were the balance-sheets just as good as the books?

Now, just think what he had, according to his own testimony: A copy of the original letter, written by Dorsey to Bosler, in which he admitted his guilt; a copy of the tabular statement, written by Dorsey, in which he put down thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B. What more? Copy of the letter that he had written to Bosler on the 22d of May, 1880. He had all that, and he must have had this memorandum, though I will show you that he had not, and I think I will show you when he made it. And yet he was going to New York to get some more evidence. He was going to steal another book in New York that would simply create a suspicion, while he gave up a book that was absolute certainty. That is the theory. But they say, "Oh, he did not do that quite." What did he do? He went and had that copied. He swears that he had copied that letter of May 13, 1879, that Dorsey wrote to Bosler, in which he admitted that he gave twenty thousand dollars to Brady. Now, a copy would not show in whose handwriting the press-copy was, would it? That is a very important point. Who copied it? I think he said Miss Nettie L. White copied it. We never hear of Miss Nettie L. White again, though. These gentlemen admit that you are not to believe Mr. Rerdell on any point that is not corroborated, and when he swears that Miss Nettie L. White copied the letter you are not bound to believe there was such a letter unless they bring Miss White or account for her absence. They did not bring her. That is an extremely important point in their case, infinitely more important than whether the red books ever existed. Did Dorsey write a letter to Bosler in which he admitted his guilt? This man says that he had complete and perfect evidence of it in his own hand; that he gave that up; that he had that copied by Miss White. And they did not bring Miss White. Certainly he had no scruples about tearing it out. He says he tore out his letter to Bosler of the 22d of May, 1880. He had no scruples about that. He did not refuse to keep the book because it touched his honor, because in a day or two he was going to steal another not half as good as that one, not one-tenth part as good. Just think. He gave up evidence that was absolute and complete, and went to steal evidence that was secondary and of the poorest character. You do not believe it. He would have kept that book if he had kept any. If he was going to steal any evidence, and had the best, he would have kept it. The trouble was that there was no such letter in that book. There was his letter of May 22, 1880; no doubt about that; and that man tore it out, and then he made up one in his own mind, and had it of that date; that is all.

So he went to New York, and he swears that he went right up to the Albemarle Hotel; that it was early in the morning; that Dorsey was not then up; and that he had a conversation with Dorsey, in which Dorsey charged him with having had something to do with the Government, with having gone over to the Government. Dorsey had heard that there was something going on about that time, and I suppose he asked Mr. Rerdell about it. Rerdell denied it; said there was no truth in it; that nothing of the kind, character, or sort had ever happened.

Now let us just see whether I can demonstrate to you that Rerdell, in the conversation he had with Dorsey at the Albemarle Hotel, denied that he had gone over to the Government, or that he had done anything that was not perfectly honest, straightforward, and upright. I refer to it now, although I may come to it again.

And, gentlemen, I am sorry for you; I pity every one of you, that you have to hear all that has to be said in this case. But you must put yourselves, for the moment, in our places. You must remember that these defendants have borne this agony, have been roofed and surrounded with disorder for two years. You must remember that the agents of the Government have pursued them, they have watched over them and spied them night and day. You must remember that they have been slandered for years in the public press, although the tone of the public press is now changing, and changing in such a marked degree that one of the attorneys here for the prosecution claimed that we had bought up the correspondents. When you take into consideration what my clients have suffered, the position they are now in, fighting this great and powerful Government, I know you will excuse us for inflicting upon you every thought and every argument that we think may be for our defence.

I am doing for my clients what I would do for you, or any of you, if you were defendants, and I am doing for them what I would want them to do for me were I a defendant and they my counsel.

Now I am going to demonstrate this. When Mr. Rerdell got to Jersey City he telegraphed back, according to the evidence of Mr. Dorsey:

Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust.

I believe Rerdell swears that he did not send that. He had a memorandum-book which he took out of his pocket. I think a leaf was torn from it, and he ran his pencil through this line on the page on which he had taken a copy of this dispatch, "Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust," and says he did not send it. Why did he put his pencil through that? Because that line would not agree with the testimony he had given upon the stand. "Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust" was in that dispatch. I want to ask you if you believe that Rerdell could have sent that dispatch to a man to whom he had admitted that very morning that he had gone over to the Government? Do you believe it? How perfectly natural it would have been for him to send a dispatch from Jersey City that harmonized and accorded with his denial of that morning.

Just look at that [handing the paper to the foreman of the jury.] Just read it. I want the jury to look at it. He rubbed it out of his memorandum-book. When? At the time? No, sir; when he found that he wanted something to harmonize with his evidence here. Even he had not the brazen effrontery to swear that he had told Dorsey that very morning that he (Rerdell) had gone over to the Government, and then that very afternoon to telegraph him—Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust.

Why, in comparison with that cheek brass is a liquid. What is the next sentence?

The affidavit story is a lie.

Why did he leave that in? Because technically that was true. He had not then made an affidavit, and there is nothing so pleases a man who has made up his mind to tell a lie as to have mixed with the mortar of that lie one hair of truth. It is delightful to smell the perfume of a fact in the hell-broth of his perjury. Just look at that. These two things show that he had not admitted to Dorsey that he had told the Government anything against Dorsey. He wanted Dorsey to understand that he, Rerdell, had not communicated with the Government. Now, if you admit his evidence to be true, at the time he sent that dispatch he had the stolen book under his arm, and you, gentlemen of the jury, are asked to believe a man who would do that thing. I would not. I would not convict the meanest, lowest wretch that ever crawled between heaven and earth upon such testimony. Never. Neither can you do it. A verdict must rest upon a fact. The fact must rest upon the testimony of a witness. That witness must be, or seem to be, an honest man. And unless a verdict is based upon the bed-rock of honesty, it is infinitely rotten, and the jury that will give a verdict not based upon honesty is corrupt.

Mr Crane (foreman of the jury.) I notice that this dispatch seems to have been written with different pencils at different times.

Mr Ingersoll—Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust—Is written very dimly.

The affidavit story is a lie, but confidence between us is gone—Is in still a different hand.

I resign my position and will turn everything over to any one you designate—Is still another hand. Three hands, three pencils, in the one memorandum. These papers have been manufactured, and when the Government said, "This is not enough," another paragraph has been added.

How hard it is to perpetrate a piece of rascality and do it well. There are an infinite number of things in this universe, and everything that is in it is related to everything else; and when you get a falsehood in it that does not belong to the family, it has not the family likeness; and when anybody sees it who is acquainted with the family, he says, "That is an adopted young one."

Mr. Rerdell now says, I believe, that he did not send that line, "Up to this moment," &c. Dorsey swears that he did. Rerdell then produces this book and this paper which I have shown to you.

Now, let us follow Mr. Rerdell from the Albemarle Hotel.

I will show that he crosses himself on almost every fact that he endeavors to swear to. He swears that he went to Dorsey's; that from Dorsey's he went immediately to Tor-rey's office; that he then went and got lunch and then went to Jersey City. He also swears that he got his breakfast before he went to Dorsey's. In the next examination he swears that he got his breakfast after he went to Dorsey's, and after he got the book he went to Jersey City, first walking up and down Broadway for about an hour. He had forgotten about the lunch. There is nothing in it but a mass of contradiction. He swears that he went down to Torrey's office. Why did he not make it earlier, as soon as he got off the boat? Because he did not have any key to the office. It would not do to swear that he broke into the office and that nobody ever heard of it, and so he had to put the time after the office would naturally be open. Well, now we have got him as far as the office. He swears that he went in there and saw Mr. Torrey. After chatting a little with Torrey, and telling him the object of his visit, Torrey took him into the next room and took these books from a shelf or desk, or something of that kind, and handed them both to him, and he looked them over at his leisure, while Mr. Torrey went back to his business. He finally took the journal and left the ledger. Why did he leave the ledger? I will tell you after a while. Every lie, as well as every truth, has its philosophy. He took the journal and came along out with it under his arm, not wrapped up, not concealed. Then he had another chat with Torrey about the weather or something, and then he went on. Why did he swear that he had a conversation with Torrey in that office? I will tell you. When he was giving that testimony, Torrey was in mid-ocean, between New York and Liverpool. I guess Mr. Rerdell had heard that the man was away. He thought he would be absolutely and perfectly safe, and so he said he had a conversation with Torrey. The moment he repeated that conversation with Torrey, I said, "Where is Torrey?" We telegraphed to New York and we found that Torrey had left for the old country. We sent a cablegram to Queenstown and we intercepted him. I think he staid a day in the old country, and took the next ship and came back, arriving here in time to swear that Rerdell never visited that office, that he never had that conversation with him, and that he never got that book from that office; more than that, that that book never was in that office. Who are you going to believe, Torrey or Rerdell?

Another man was there on that very day, Mr. Mullins. He never had any recollection of seeing Rerdell until he saw him here. All the books were kept in the safe except the books that Torrey had in his desk. No such books were in the safe and no such books were in Torrey's desk. Gentlemen, no such books existed, and I will demonstrate it to you before I get through. No doubt the man had some little expense-books of his own. He has widened them, he has lengthened them, he has thickened them, he has colored them. He has refreshed other people. When the Government tells a man, "You have got an office, haven't you?" "Yes." "Well, we want you to remember this." Then he is refreshed on the subject. The words the Government speaks are rain and dew and sunlight upon the dry grass of his memory and it springs up green. He says he has been refreshed. Before I get through I will show you that these things were proved only by gentlemen who had been refreshed.

Now, why did Rerdell say he took the journal and left the ledger? I will tell you. There is more in the shirt theory than you would think. He had a shirt in a paper, folded up just once over the bosom. Unexpectedly lie met Mr. James on the train. He was very much surprised to meet him, because James swears he was very much surprised to meet Rerdell. James knew that he had gone over to New York to get those books, and he asked him, "Did you get the books?" Rerdell had that beggarly little package. He could not call that "books," because it was not large enough, and so he had to say he had a book. That was the reason he said journal and not ledger. He had too small a package for "books," and consequently he told James he had the "book," and he is sticking to it; only one book. Another reason: He said to James, and it was very smart of him, "I don't want to show you what I have got in this package, because there is a fellow looking," and so the shirt, in unconscious innocence, reposed unseen. Who was the fellow who was looking? Chase Andrews. You recollect him. He came into the depot at Jersey City at the time Rerdell was writing this virtuous dispatch, this certificate of his honor and of his faithfulness. He shook hands with Rerdell. Rerdell said he had a carpet-sack, but it was not big enough to get one of these books in. He wanted the jury to think it was a pretty big book. He hated to lose a chance of adding to the size of the book, and so he swore that it was too big to put in the carpet-sack. If he had only had sense enough to put it in the carpet-sack, and let it alone, we never could have proven anything about it by Chase Andrews. Andrews would not have sworn that he looked through the carpet-sack. But Rerdell in his anxiety to have that book a big book said he could not get it into the carpet-sack, and consequently must have held it in his hand. Chase Andrews saw him in the depot at Jersey City, and rode in the next seat in the Pullman car from Jersey City to Washington, and Rerdell had no book. Who will you believe, Chase Andrews or Mr. Rerdell?

Mr. Ingersoll. [Resuming.] May it please the Court and gentlemen of the jury.

It is also claimed by the prosecution that on the evening of the day on which Rerdell was in New York and sent the telegram from Jersey City. Dorsey wrote a letter to Rerdell in which he begged him for the sake of his family, for the sake of his children, and everything to go no further. I believe it is claimed that after Mr. Rerdell got back here to Washington he showed that letter to his brother. It struck me as extremely wonderful that he did not show his brother the book; that was such an important thing, it being the thing that he went after, being something that was to decide his fate with the Government. There was nothing about that. Let me say right here: Suppose his story is true that he told Dorsey that he had been to the Government. Would Dorsey write to that man a letter begging him for God's sake not to go further? Would he not rather have sent some man to see him? He knew at that time that he was utterly dishonest, having received that very afternoon, according to Rerdell's testimony, a telegram from Rerdell, in which Rerdell admitted that he had told a falsehood. Would he then have put himself upon paper? Would he have put himself in the power of that same man? I ask you, because you know there is about as much human nature in one person as in another, on the average, and the only way you can tell what another man will do is by thinking "What would I do under the circumstances?"

I am going to demonstrate to you now with just one point that there were no such books. When Rerdell came to make the affidavit of June 20, 1881, Dorsey knew that Rerdell had talked with MacVeagh, James, and Clayton. He also knew that Rerdell, according to his statement, had promised to go to New York and get the red book. Rerdell swears in the affidavit of June, 1881, that he promised MacVeagh to go to New York and get those books. Dorsey knew at that time whether such books existed or not. If he knew they did exist then he knew that Rerdell went after them. Why did not Dorsey ask Rerdell at the time he made that affidavit, "Did you get a book in New York?" Admitting, for the sake of the argument, that Rerdell's story is true that the books were there and that Dorsey knew it, would not Dorsey have asked him, when he was making the affidavit of June 20, 1881, "Did you get a book in New York? What did you do with it, if you did?" Rerdell swears that Dorsey did not mention that subject; that it was not talked of between them. Why? Because both knew that no such books existed. That is the reason he did not ask him if he got it. He knew that he did not get it. Why? Because the book was not there to be obtained. Can you explain that on any other hypothesis? Dorsey knew at this time, according to the testimony of Rerdell, that Rerdell was dishonest; knew that Rerdell had tried to sell him out to the Government; knew that Rerdell had promised MacVeagh he would go to New York and get those books; knew that Rerdell had been to New York; knew that Rerdell had gotten back, and yet did not ask him, "Did you get a book?" Would he not naturally have said, "I want that book that you got in New York. I want it now." It also appears in evidence that on the very day that Rerdell was in New York and says he was in Torrey's office, Torrey in the afternoon went to the Albemarle Hotel to do some writing for Mr. Dorsey. Is it conceivable that Torrey would not in that conversation have told Dorsey, "Your clerk, Rerdell, came to the office to-day and I gave him the mail book or one of those books"? Not a word. That affidavit was made in June, 1881, and was the affidavit in which Rerdell disclosed what he had done with the Government, and that he had agreed to get that very book, and yet Dorsey did not take interest enough in the matter to ask him if he got a book.

Mr. Merrick. Is there any evidence of the conversation between Torrey and Dorsey?

Mr. Ingersoll. No. The evidence is that Torrey went there that evening. You claim that that was the topic of conversation, and that Dorsey sent dispatches to Rerdell that night and wrote a letter to Rerdell. So, I say, under the circumstances, and with the excitement then prevailing, it is inconceivable that Torrey should not have said, "Your man Rerdell has been at my office to-day, and got one of the books."

I say it is inconceivable that he did not tell him, and therefore Dorsey must have known it had it been a fact, and had it been a fact when Rerdell made the affidavit of 1881, Dorsey would have said, "I want that book. I want the book you stole from my office." He did not even mention it. It was not the subject of conversation. Yet, in that same affidavit, he said that he agreed to go and get it, and in that same affidavit he said that no such book ever existed. He swore to that affidavit from friendship. You see, gentlemen, about how much friendship that man is capable of. He swore for friendship that no such book existed; he now swears that it did. What is that for? You want to consider these things. Nobody asked about that book. The matter drifted along. The summer wore away. Autumn touched the woods with gold. Nobody ever mentioned the book. Winter came. That book was in a little carpet-sack hanging in a woodshed. A magnificent place to secrete property. The snows descended; the winds howled around that woodshed. The carpet-sack hung there with the book in it. Nobody touched it. I think the next year, may be that summer, he wrote or telegraphed to Mrs. Cushman to get the book. It suddenly occurred to him that a woodshed was not a safe place for it. She got a book. She looked into it enough to find out it was about the mail business. She put it away; finally that book was brought from its hiding-place on the 13th of July, 1882, when Rerdell says he handed it over to Dorsey, and there is not one syllable of evidence going to show that it was ever spoken of from the time he visited New York until he brought it to Dorsey, as he claimed, at Willard's Hotel. What made him give it to him? Dorsey was mad. Dorsey threatened that he would have Rerdell arrested for perjury, because Rerdell had sworn that he, Dorsey, was innocent. That is enough to excite the wrath of an ordinary man. Dorsey was then on trial. The first trial was then going on. We were right in the midst of it. The year before that Rerdell had solemnly taken his oath that Dorsey was an innocent man, and here Dorsey was in a court insisting that he was innocent. Yet he threatened to have Rerdell then and there punished for perjury because he had sworn that he was innocent. That frightened Rerdell. I think it was calculated to frighten any man.

Why did Dorsey allow Rerdell to keep that book? There is only one possible explanation: The book never existed. That is all. Torrey would have told about it if it had been taken from his office, because I believe the evidence shows that that affidavit was shortly afterwards published. Nobody seemed to have taken any interest in that book. All interest faded away. Now, Mr. Rerdell made that affidavit on the 20th of June, 1881. I believe, on page 2468, Rerdell swears that when he made the affidavit of June 20, 1881, he had the copies of the original journal and ledger at Dorsey's office. Afterwards he swears he had not. He swears that he then gave them to Dorsey. Afterwards he says they were sent to New York the year before. I will come to that after awhile. Now, let us see what the position of affairs was on June 20, 1881. At this time Rerdell had furnished the Government all the information he had, except the book. Then they had said to him substantially, "The evidence is insufficient. We want more." Rerdell agreed to furnish them the books, and went to New York to get the books.

Now, he had Dorsey absolutely in his power, according to his account. What did he do? He had, according to his testimony, the copy of the letter Dorsey had written to Bosler on the 13th of May, 1879, the copy having been made by Miss Nettie L. White. He had the tabular statement in Dorsey's own handwriting, showing thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B. He had the letter that he himself wrote to Bosler on the 22d of May, 1880. He had the red book. According to his statement, on that day he had Dorsey in his power. All he had to do was to take the next step and secure absolute safety for himself and crush his employer. What did he do? He then said, "I went to the Government and played the detective." He retreated. He voluntarily put himself in a position a thousand times as perilous as he had been in before. He put himself in a place where he had to swear that what he told the Government was a lie, and that he was simply endeavoring to find out the Government's case and was acting as a detective. You must recollect that Rerdell is a man who does nothing for money. He will make an affidavit for unadulterated friendship. He will make it also from fright. He will make it also, he says, in the interest of truth. At that time he made an affidavit, as he says, for friendship, and it is for the jury to determine how much a man like Rerdell—because you know what he is just as well as I do—would do for friendship. You have seen him here day after day. You saw him sitting right at the door when Mr. Ker and Mr. Bliss were demonstrating to you that he was a guilty wretch, and you saw his face beaming with pleasure. He was absolutely delighted. Yet when Mr. Wilson stood here and endeavored to show that the man was not as bad as he said he was, endeavored to show that his plea of guilty was absolutely false, he slunk away, covered with the shame of innocence. He did not want to hear that. He wanted it understood that he was guilty, and that it was the proudest moment of his life. Now, it is for you to determine how much such a man would do for friendship. It is for you to determine how you can take advantage of his finer nature. He had Dorsey in his power, according to his story, but instead of carrying out his original design he turned against the Government. Why did he do that? Because of patriotism? No. Why? He did it for his own benefit, gentlemen. He never acted from any other motive. Why did he not stay with the Government? Because they would not give him his price for his evidence. Why would they not give him his price for his evidence? Because his evidence was not worth it. If he had had the copy of the letter from Dorsey to Bosler they would have given him his price. They would have followed him all over the United States to have given him his price. There was the absolute evidence against Dorsey. There was the evidence against the man whom Mr. MacVeagh wished to drag down. Why did they not buy it? Because the man did not have it. Why did he desert the Government? Because the Government would not give him his price. Again I ask why would not the Government give him his price? Because he had not the goods; he had not the evidence. Then what did he do? He sneaked back and asked protection of the man he had endeavored to betray. That is what he did. He again asked Dorsey to stand by him. Dorsey did not need this man. This man needed him, and he instantly deserted the Government and went back to Dorsey. For the sake of saving Dorsey? No. For the purpose of saving himself.

He had not the evidence. Yet, according to this testimony of his, he did what I told you. What else did he have? He had the route-book. What was the route-book, gentlemen? From the evidence it appears that this man kept a route-book, and that in it he had the name of each route, the number of the route, where it started from, and where it went to, the name of the contractor, the amount per year, the name of the subcontractor, the amount per year, and then a column showing whether it had been increased, and, if so, how much, and whether it had been expedited, and, if so, how much. He had that book. He says he was subpoenaed to appear before the Congressional committee. What book would that committee want? They would want the book that showed the original contracts, the subcontracts, the description of the routes, how much the Government paid to the contractor, and how much the contractor paid to the subcontractor. That was the book they wanted, and that was the book to hide if any hiding was to be done. That was the book to have copied. That was the book in which figures should have been changed, if in any. And yet he never said one word about that route-book. He had it in his possession. Why should he not expect the committee of Congress to call for that book? He did not tell you. He did not have that book copied, and yet that was the book that had in it every particle of information that the Congressional committee wanted. Not a word on that subject.

It appears, too, in the evidence, that Mr. Rerdell had in his possession certain notes that passed between him and Mr. Steele about the red books. Why were not those notes produced in evidence? Mr. Steele was here on the subpoena of the Government. Why were not those notes produced in evidence? Not a word about that. Is it possible that those notes were about the route-book? Why were they not produced? Rerdell went before that Congressional committee. He did not take any route-book. What did he take? He said that he had these books made up to take. Did they contain the accounts of the subcontractors? No. Donnelly swears there were not more than twelve accounts in the book. What was the use of taking that book, or those books, before the committee? Another thing: He says that he went immediately and got those books copied. Would he try to palm off the copies as originals? Would not the committee ask him the very first thing, "In whose handwriting are these books?" He could not say, "They are in mine," because then he would be caught. He would have to say, "They are in Mr. Donnelly's handwriting." The next question would be, "Where is Mr. Donnelly?" And the answer would be, "Here in town." The committee would send for him and would ask, "Mr. Donnelly, did you write in those books?" "Yes." "Did you make the entries at the time they purport to have been made?" "No, sir; I copied them from another set of books that Mr. Rerdell gave to me." He would either say that or swear to a lie. Then they would say, "Mr. Rerdell, we want the original books," and then he would be caught. You cannot imagine a more shallow device. More than that, the books would not have any information that the committee wanted, nothing about these contracts, and nothing about the amount paid the subcontractors. If the committee wanted anything they wanted to show that the Government was paying a large price and the contractors were paying to the subcontractors a small price. Rerdell says that when he was subpoenaed to bring his books he never thought of the route-book. He thought of the red books, and yet the route-book was the only book that had any information that the committee wanted. How was he to palm that off? Is it possible to think of a reason having in it less probability, less weight, less human nature than the reason he gives for having those books copied? There is another question. If Rerdell expected to palm off the copies as the originals, why did he keep the originals? For instance. I have a book here that I don't want Congress to see, and so I have it copied.

I am going to swear that that copy is the original; otherwise the device is good for nothing. Why keep the original and run the perpetual danger of discovery? Why not burn the original? Why keep the evidence of my own guilt, liable to be found at any moment by accident, by a servant, by a stranger? That is not human nature, gentlemen. Then there is another question: If he were going to have a book copied and then swear that the copy was the original, he would have copied it himself. If a man intends to swear to a lie the first thing he does is not to take somebody into the secret. Why should he have put himself in the power of Donnelly? He was the man to be the witness before the committee, and if his device worked he intended to swear before the committee that the copies were the originals; and yet, by going to Donnelly to have the work done, he manufactured a witness that would always stand ready to prove that he, Rerdell, had sworn to a falsehood. What men work in that way? When a man makes up his mind to swear to a lie does he take pains to go to one of his neighbors and say, "I am going to swear to a lie to-morrow and I want to give you the evidence of it. I am going to swear that a copy is an original. I want you to make the copy so that I can swear to it." Would not the neighbor then say, "I will be a witness against you in that case. You had better copy it yourself." Just see what he did. He took pains to have a witness so that if he swore falsely he could be contradicted and convicted. Why did he not copy the books himself? After he got the originals copied why did he not burn up the originals so that nobody could ever find them in his possession?

Let us take another step. Finally, he got before the committee. When he got before the committee what did he swear? He swore that he kept some expense-books showing how he stood with the contractors. I think that was the truth. I think that is what he did keep. He did not tell the committee about the route-book. Not a word. That was the only book that he concealed in his testimony. He said he kept some expense-books and those were all that he kept. He did not tell about the route-book. That is the only book that he failed to mention. Consequently, it seems to me, that was the only book he did not want to show. Why? Because he thought at that time they were going to make a great outcry about what was paid to the subcontractor and to the contractor and he had no advices from anybody, except from whom? Except from Mr. Bosler. What did Bosler tell him? Bosler told him, "I see no reason why you should not exhibit your books and papers." Now, according to Rerdell's testimony, on the 13th of May the year before, Dorsey had written a letter to Bosler informing him that he had given twenty thousand dollars to T. J. B. Bosler knew, if the testimony of Rerdell is true, that that letter had been written, and Bosler had that information. He knew if the letter had been copied, too, because every letter that one receives gives evidence whether it has been copied or not. And yet, knowing of that letter, he wrote to Rerdell or telegraphed him that he saw no reason why he should not show all his books and papers. Nobody believes that. Nobody ever will believe it! The earth may revolve in its orbit for millions of years, and generations may come and go, countless as the leaves of all the forests, and there never will be found a man of average intelligence to believe that story. Just think of it. Bosler, according to the testimony of Rerdell, had gone into partnership with Dorsey knowing there was a conspiracy, knowing Dorsey was paying to Brady thirty-three and one-third per cent, of the profits, and thereupon the clerk who attended to the business writes or telegraphs to him, and says he has been subpoenaed to appear before the Congressional committee with the books and papers, and Mr. Bosler knowing of the existence of the conspiracy, and knowing that Brady is getting thirty-three and one-third per cent, writes or telegraphs back that he sees no reason why all the books and papers should not be presented to the committee. Gentlemen, that is impossible; it never happened and it never will.

Ah, but they say these books did exist. Why? Because Mr. Donnelly copied them. Let us see whether he did or not. There is nothing like examining these questions. Mr. Rerdell says that in his interview with Brady, Brady suggested to him that he had better have them copied. This, I believe, was on the 21st of May, 1880. Now he swears that in accordance with that view or suggestion that he received from Brady he had the books copied by Donnelly. When did he have it done? He had it done after the 21st day of May, 1880. On page 2638 Donnelly swears that he copied these books in the latter part of April or the forepart of May. On page 2636, where he was asked if he had anything to do with copying a book of accounts for Rerdell, he says that he had; and on being asked what kind of books they were, says they were a small set of books. Donnelly swears that they related to the mail business, and seemed to be the books of a firm. At that time nobody was interested in the matter except S. W. Dorsey. How did they appear to be the books of a firm? Donnelly swears, on page 2640, "there were not more than a dozen accounts in the book." Let us see if these were the mail books. He says there was an account against S. W. Dorsey; that is one. An account against John W. Dorsey; that is two. Against Donnelly himself; that is three. M. C. Rerdell; that is four. Interest account; five. A mail account; six. An expense account; seven. A profit and loss account, eight; and an account with William Smith, nine. That is all he gives. But he says they were not to exceed a dozen. On page 2644 Gibbs says there was an account against Colonel Steele and Mrs. Steele. I take it they would be in one account. That makes ten. Then there was an account against Jennings, making eleven; and an account against Perkins, making twelve. Let us see if we can go a little further. Mr. Rerdell swears to a cash account; that is thirteen. Also an account against J. H. Mitchell; that is fourteen; and one against Belford, making fifteen. You can deduct your Jones and your Smith and have one more account in the book then than Donnelly swears was in it. He swears they were not to exceed a dozen. That was the book with all this mail business. We will follow it up a little. Rerdell says he opened the books according to the memorandum, and swears consequently that there was a cash account and an account with J. H. Mitchell. J. B. Belford, I believe, he afterwards mentioned. Now, according to Gibb's testimony there was an account with Perkins. Understand I say that the only book he had, if he had any, was a private book in which he kept his own expense accounts and his own matters, and it was not a book with which Stephen W. Dorsey had any connection. I say that the William Smith and Samuel Jones account he has added for the purpose of having something to sell to the Government. That is my claim. I say they were his private books. There was an account with Perkins. You have heard all the testimony, gentlemen. You know all the contracts in this case. You know all the subcontracts. There is not a single solitary account in this book with any subcontractor mentioned in any of these subcontracts except Perkins and possibly Jennings. Who was Perkins? Perkins was a subcontractor on the route from Rawlins to White River. That is the route that Rerdell had an interest in himself.

Rerdell made the subcontract with Perkins himself, and consequently he had an account with Perkins in his own private book, and had not any account with the rest of the subcontractors. We also find, according to Gibbs, that there was an account against Jennings. Who was Jennings?

That brings us to the Jennings's claim. That is the claim that he told Mr. Woodward about, when he wanted to sell out in the first place, and that is the claim that he told Mac-Veagh and the Postmaster-General about. Strangely enough and wonderfully enough we find that claim in this very book. That shows whether this was a private book or whether it was a book kept for the accounts of Dorsey.

Now, by looking at the Post-Office reports I find that nine hundred and ninety-four dollars was paid to Rerdell for Jennings on the 14th day of April, 1880, and the question I ask is did he keep two sets of books at that time? He produced in court a book of his own, kept at that time with the Jennings account in it. The book that was copied had the Perkins account, and why? Because it was a special account in which Rerdell was interested. They have failed to prove that there was in that other book any account in which Dorsey was necessarily interested, except the account kept with Rerdell showing Rerdell's transactions with Dorsey.

We now come to the testimony of Mr. Gibbs. Mr. Gibbs says his wife copied a journal between Christmas, 1879, and the 1st of March, 1880. Rerdell says that she copied the journal and ledger both. The witness, Gibbs, gives the color of the book. He says it was not red; it was either brown or black. Mr. Gibbs remembers nothing about the Smith account, whether it was large or whether it was small. He finally swears that he does not really recollect anything about it, except that Rerdell brought the book there and said he wanted to get a copy made to send to Dorsey in New York, and that he returned the book and the copy to Rerdell. He swears that he remembers as names in this book Smith, Jones, and S. W. Dorsey, and M. C. Rerdell. Those were all he could think of. He does not remember the name of John H. Mitchell. On page 2646, he says he believes that Rerdell came to him and asked him during the trial if he recollected the name of William Smith, and he swears that when Rerdell asked him if he recollected the name of William Smith, he distinctly told him that he did not. Then he asked him if he recollected the name of Jones, and he swears that he told Rerdell when he asked him that question that he did not. I read from page 2646:

I tried not to remember anything of this.

How can a man try not to remember? What mental muscle is it that he contracts when he tries not to remember? That is a metaphysical question that interested me greatly when the man was testifying, for he said he tried not to remember. Why did he try not to remember?

I didn't want to be called into court if I could possibly help it, and for quite a long time did not mention the fact that I knew anything of the books. But when I was called into court, I thought of all the circumstances connected with the time that I copied the books; and a few days ago, or a week or so ago, in going home one night, and thinking this thing over in my mind, and thinking of everything I could think of, my mind reverted to a conversation I had had at the time, laughing and looking over the books.

It was not only one book, then.

And I wrote a great many letters, and read a great many names—They must have been in the letter-books—and was laughing about the peculiarity of the names, and even made the remark, "There is even Smith and Jones in it."

What a wonderful circumstance! In copying the books and making an index of the three letter-books he found Smith and Jones. The difficulty would have been not to find Smith or Jones.

That is the evidence of that man. When Rerdell first went to him, he told Rerdell distinctly, "I remember no name of Smith; I remember no name of Jones." And then he waited until Rerdell went on the stand and swore that he copied those books, and that the names of Smith and Jones were in them, and then his memory was refreshed, and he came here and swore that the names of Smith and Jones were there. All of a sudden it came to him, like a flash, and he subsequently had the conversation with his wife. Gentlemen, you may believe it; I do not; not a word of it. He is mistaken. He has mistaken imagination for memory; he has mistaken what Mr. Rerdell told him now for something he thinks happened long ago. He took the letter-books, too. May be there is where he found some of his strange names.

Rerdell says, in swearing to the letter which he says was written by Dorsey to Bosler on the 13th of May, 1879, that he (S. W. Dorsey) took that book, all his own books that were not used for the mail business, and boxed them up. When? In 1879. Mr. Kellogg swears that after they were boxed up they were sent to New York. When? In 1879. And yet Rerdell swears that between Christmas and New Year's, 1879, those books were at the house of Mr. Gibbs to be indexed. It will not do. And Rerdell swears that he had the letter-book containing the letter of May 13, here in 1881, when he went to MacVeagh, and yet, according to his own testimony, that book was sent to New York in 1879. And he swears that the three letter-books—and I will call your attention to them after a while—that he had here, commenced on the 15th of May, and ended, I think, in April or May, 1882. He swears that the letter written by Dorsey to Bosler was written on the 13th of May, 1879, and then he swears that the first letter in the three letter-books was dated the 15th of May, two days afterward. So he had not the book here. I knew he did not have it, because if he had had such a book with such a letter, he never would have gone to New York to steal a book; he would have stolen that one.

Torrey took charge of the books January 27, 1880, and he kept them until the 1st of May, 1880, in the Boreel Building, and then at that time moved to 145 Broadway, and kept them there until the last of April, 1882.

Now, gentlemen, I will come to those red books again in a moment. Here is a little piece of evidence about the books. You know it was the hardest thing in the world to find out how many books this man had, how many times they were copied, who copied them, and what he did with the copies; and he got us all mixed up—counsel for the prosecution, the Court, counsel for the defence—none of us could understand it. "How many books did you have? What did you do with them?" "Well, I took them to New York. No, I did not; I had some of them here." Finally I manufactured out of my imagination a carpet-sack for him. I said, "Didn't you take these books over to New York in a carpet-sack?" He said "Yes," he did. He jumped at that carpet-sack like a trout at a fly. Let me call your attention to some other evidence, on page 2637, near the bottom. Donnelly is testifying:

Q. Was it an exact copy of the book?—A. It was not.

Q. In what did it differ from the book you were keeping?—There were some items left out.

Q. What accounts did you leave out?—A. I left the William Smith account out.

Q. What did you do with that amount in order to balance the books?

Now, I want you to pay particular attention to this answer.

A. My recollection is that I carried it to profit and loss.

Q. On the books or on the balance sheet?—A. On both.

Now, remember, these were the books made out to fool the committee. I suppose there are some book-keepers on this jury. I suppose Mr. Greene knows something about book-keeping, and Mr. Evans, and Mr. Crane, and Mr. Gill. I do not know but you all do. And you know that when you carry an amount to profit and loss you do not throw the name away; you keep the name. If you have charged against Robert G. Ingersoll five thousand dollars, which you never expect to get, and you want to charge it to profit and loss, you make the charge and you put my name against that. You put profit and loss against Robert G. Ingersoll's debt. Everybody that ever kept a book knows that. If you carry an amount to profit and loss you rewrite the name of the person who owes the debt. So that when he says, "My recollection is that I carried it to profit and loss," there would be a name twice in the book instead of once. If it was simply in the book once it would be, "William Smith, debtor, eighteen thousand dollars." But if you carry that to profit and loss you must credit profit and loss by this William Smith amount, and consequently get the name in the book twice instead of once. And that is what they call covering it up. They were so afraid that somebody would see an account against William Smith in one part of the book that they opened another account in the profit and loss business and put it in again. That would be twice. Now, let us go on a little:

Q. Were there any other accounts transferred in the same way?—A. I rather think there were, but I am not certain.

Q. Did you make the books balance on your copy?—A. Yes, sir.

Q. How long were you working on that copy?—A. I was working on it two evenings and all of one night.

Now, recollect, in the copy that he made, he carried the account of William Smith—and may be Jones, he does not remember—to profit and loss.

Now, let us take the next step. Let us go to page 2269. This is as good as a play. Donnelly swears that when he made the first copy he carried the William Smith account and some other to profit and loss. Rerdell swears that acting upon the hint of General Brady he got a man to do—what? To make another copy and leave out the items that had heretofore been charged to profit and loss. Donnelly swears that he balanced the books, and he is the only man that ever did balance the books, according to the testimony. After Rerdell had been subpoenaed to appear before the Congressional committee, he got another man, whom he swears he put to work on the books, designating the entries to be left out by drawing a pencil mark through them; that he told him to make up a new set of books, leaving out those entries, but to leave the books so that they would balance, taking the entries that were stricken out, and also the same amount that had been carried to profit and loss, and leave them entirely out. Rerdell swears that prior to that time these accounts had been carried to profit and loss, and that he struck out the credits to Dorsey.

Then the evidence as it stands is this: Rerdell swears that Mrs. Gibbs copied the journal and ledger. Gibbs does not swear it, but Rerdell does. That made four books. Then he got Donnelly to make another set of books with the William Smith and Dorsey accounts carried to profit and loss.

That is six books. After he had been subpoenaed by the committee he got another man to make a new set of books and leave out the William Smith and Dorsey accounts and the profit and loss account, and that makes eight books. And there we are, so far as that is concerned.

Now, gentlemen, I have come to one other view of this case. I hope that you will not forget—because I do not want to speak of it all the time—that this man Rerdell swears that he had the original letter-press copy of that letter which he says Dorsey wrote to Bosler. Do not forget that. He says he had that before he went to New York to steal the red books; do not forget that. And that he gave that testimony away; do not forget that. That he says he had it copied by Miss White, and they do not introduce Miss White to show that she copied it; do not forget that. Do not forget, too, that he had when he was there the tabular statement in the handwriting of S. W. Dorsey.

Mr. Ingersoll. [Resuming.] Gentlemen, on page 2286 Mr. Rerdell gives the contents of a letter which he says Dorsey wrote to him the night he, Rerdell, left New York, and when he says he had the book with him. He swears, you remember, that afterwards Dorsey tore the letter up. Let me read you the letter as he says it was written:

The letter started out by stating that he did not believe the report that had been brought to him in reference to myself, and that he also believed the affidavit story to be a lie. He plead in the letter for the sake of his wife and children and himself, and his social and business relations, and the friendship that had long existed between us not to do anything for his injury; for God's sake to reconsider everything that I had done and take no steps further until he could see me. It was in that strain, simply begging me not to do anything further until he could see me.

Now, let us analyze that letter, keeping in our minds what Rerdell has sworn. Rerdell has sworn that when he went to the Albermarle Hotel he told Dorsey what he had done; that he had had the conversations with MacVeagh and James. Let me call your attention to the dispatch from Jersey City. First, Dorsey wrote to Rerdell that he did not believe the report that had been brought to him; that had been brought to him. He could not have used that word "brought" if Rerdell had been the bringer. If Rerdell had made the report to him in person he could not have written to Rerdell, "I do not believe the report that has been brought to me." The use of the word "brought" shows that somebody else told him; not the person to whom he wrote. "The report." What report? There is only one answer. The report that Rerdell had been in consultation with the Government. He writes to Rerdell, "I don't believe that report that has been brought to me," and yet when he wrote it, if Rerdell's testimony is true, he knew that Rerdell had given him that very report and he knew that Rerdell would know that he, Rerdell, had told Dorsey that very thing. Second, that he, Dorsey'', believed the affidavit story to be a lie. There is again in this horizon of falsehood one little cloud of truth. Rerdell had not made an affidavit. He had told James, MacVeagh, Woodward, and Clayton what you know, but he had not made any affidavit, and when he was charged, if he was, with having made an affidavit, it delighted him to have one little speck of truth, just one thing that he could honestly deny. That was the one thing. He had not yet made an affidavit. Third, Dorsey plead with him in the letter for the sake of his wife, his children, himself, his social and business relations, and the friendship that had long existed between them, not to do what? Not to do anything further. According to Rerdell, he told him in the letter he did not believe he had done anything. Rerdell swears that he wrote to him in the letter that he did not believe the report; that is, that he had yet done anything, and then wound up the letter by begging him, for God's sake, not to do anything further. How came he to use the word "further"? "Don't take any further steps. I know that you have not taken any step at all, but do not, I pray you, take any further steps." That letter will not hang together. Dorsey swears he never wrote it. Finally, the letter comes down to this: "I don't believe the report. I do not believe you have done anything. But, for God's sake, do not do anything more." It is like the old Scotch verdict when a man was tried for larceny. The jury found him not guilty, but stated at the end of the verdict, "We hope the defendant will never do so again." The first part of this letter shows that Dorsey did not believe that he had done anything. The last part of it shows that he did believe he had done something and that he must not go further. No one can tell why he introduced the word "further" into this letter upon any other hypothesis. Now, I read to you, from page 2287, what Rerdell says happened at the Albermarle Hotel:

He charged me with holding interviews with Mr. James, the Postmaster-General, and the Attorney-General, and asked me what I meant by it. I told him my action was in his behalf; that I had been keeping up with the newspapers, and knowing the facts in regard to this mail business, what I had done was done in his behalf.

That is, he did not deny that he had these conversations, did not deny the report, did not deny that he had met the Attorney-General and the Postmaster-General, but said:

My action was in your behalf.

And then, according to Rerdell, after that Dorsey wrote him a letter, in which he said, "I do not believe the report," although Rerdell had made the report to him himself. May be that is the reason he did not believe it.

Now, let me read to you the conversation on his return from New York and see how it agrees with the letter. It is on page 2288:

Mr. Dorsey immediately brought up the conversation that we had had over in New York, and what I had done by going to Mr. Mac-Veagh, and asked me if I intended to ruin him. I said no, I did not; it was not my intention to ruin him; it was my intention to help him out of what I thought to be a bad difficulty.

Q. What did he say?—A. He then asked me if I had done anything further since I had left him.

Yet in the letter that he wrote him from the Albermarle Hotel he said that he did not believe the report and did not believe that he had done anything against him. The first thing he asked him when he got here was, "Have you done anything further against me?"

I said no, I had not; I had not been near Mr. MacVeagh. He then says, "Well, how shall we get out of this?" I says. "Mr. Dorsey, I will do anything that I can except to commit perjury."

A very natural remark for Mr. Rerdell to make. He would do anything but that. That testimony shows that Dorsey never wrote the letter which Rerdell says he did write from New York. That testimony shows that they did not have the conversation in New York that Rerdell says they had. That testimony shows that they did have exactly the conversation which Mr. Dorsey swears they had.

Now, I come, gentlemen, to the affidavit of June 20,1881. I would like the letter of July 5, 1882, which is on page 3733.

You understand this affidavit was made in consequence of the conversation, as he says, that he had with Dorsey after Dorsey came back from New York, in which he said he would do anything except commit perjury, and when Dorsey told him, "Damn it, what does that amount to when a friend is involved? I would not hesitate a moment." Consequently he swears that he made up his mind for the sake of friendship to swear to a lie for Mr. Dorsey. That is what he says now. On the 5th of July, 1882, while we were in the midst of the other trial, and when Mr. Rerdell, as he says, contemplated going over to the Government, and when he would not put evidence in our hands against himself, he wrote this letter:

July 5, 1882.

Senator: What I am going to say here may surprise you, while, judging from certain circumstances that to me are easily to be seen, you may not be taken by surprise.

To commence with this, it will be necessary to go back about a year to the time when, looking forward to the inevitable result of the star-route matters—I started to put myself in accord with the Government. At that time I had no thought of being included in any prosecution or indictment, supposing that as an agent I could not be held criminally responsible. Had I for one moment thought it possible nothing could have changed my mind, even anxious as I was to benefit you. The consequence was, I listened to Bosler and did what I will ever regret. First, because of the unenviable notoriety given me in consequence of doing what he persuaded me to do.

Who persuaded him? Mr. Bosler. He writes that on the 5th of July, 1882, when, as he said, he had made up his mind to go over to the Government, and when he would not willingly put a club in our hands with which to dash out his brains.

Second, because, let this case go as it may, I am still left under a cloud—That is a pitiable statement. That man under a cloud!—both with your friends and acquaintances, and the public generally.

Here comes, gentlemen, the blossom and flower of this paragraph:

And that, too, almost penniless.

Then the letter goes on:

These are stern facts, and cannot be ignored, while had I continued acting with the Government my reputation would have been clear, and no doubt been appointed to a good position.

The Government must have promised the gentleman an office when he went, in June, 1881, to Woodward and to Clayton and to the Attorney-General and to the Postmaster-General. According to this letter, among other things he was to have an office, the steamboat route was to be reinstated, the Jennings' claim was to be allowed, his father-in law was to get a clerkship, and according to this letter he also was to have a position. That is civil service reform! What does he say?

At least I have every reason to believe such would have been the result.

He would have had an office, he has every reason to believe. Why? They must have promised it to him.

This now brings us to the present time. I have an opportunity to redeem myself, and think it best to do so, as by so doing I can be entirely relieved of the indictment.

The Government then must have promised him in 1882 that the indictment should be dismissed as against him. Is it possible that he would tell a lie, gentlemen? Is it possible the prosecution will say that he lied on the 13th of July, 1882, but in 1883, having met with a change of heart, he told the truth? No.

In taking this step let me say this: It is the result of much thought and also of preparation.

I think so. The preparation of several papers.

I have realized the fact that all you and Bosler desired was to use me, and when no longer needed I could go to the devil.

Well, I think that is where he has gone.

Therefore I have concluded to be used no longer, and propose to look out for myself.

To-day I am putting things in order, so as to commence right tomorrow. I regret this on your family's account, but I too have a family, and owe it to them to put myself right.

You see, gentlemen, he wanted to leave an unspotted reputation to his children.

I deem it as being due to you that I should give you notice of my intention. Very truly,

M. C. RERDELL.

Now, gentlemen, he comes on the stand and swears that he made this affidavit, not being overpersuaded by Bosler, but because Dorsey with tears and groans besought him to make it. Yet on the 5th of July, 1882, he says he made it because he was overpersuaded by Bosler, and he says, too, "Had I remained with the Government my reputation would have been clear, and I have every reason to believe I would have had a good position." He says, "I have another opportunity to be entirely relieved from the indictment." These gentlemen say he never was promised immunity. That simply shows you cannot believe Mr. Rerdell when he is not under oath, and what he has sworn to here shows you cannot believe him when he is under oath.

Now I come to the affidavit. I will not spend a great deal of time upon it. Mr. Rerdell, with extreme ease, without the slightest hesitation, went through that entire affidavit, picking out with all the facility imaginable, every paragraph written by Dorsey and every paragraph written by himself. I was astonished at his exhibition of memory. I finally asked to look at the copy of the paper he had, and when I got that in my hand I found that every word that he swore was written by Dorsey had been underscored with a blue pencil. That accounted for the facility with which he testified. I found afterwards that that paper had been given him by Mr. Woodward and that he had gone through and marked such portions as Mr. Dorsey wrote, according to his testimony, or had marked those that he wrote, leaving the others unmarked, so that at a glance he could tell which way to swear. Before I get through with the papers in this case there is another thing to which I want to call your attention. All the papers as to which witnesses were called on the subject of handwriting are marked. I will show you that every one has a little secret mark upon it, so that the man who swore might know which way to swear simply by looking at the signature and at no other part. There has been a great deal of preparation in this case.