“No, but I knew your son,” Johannes said.

  “My son!” the judge answered incredulously. “How did you know my son?”

  Johannes handed him the letter through the bars of his cell. Judge Crabshaw fumbled in his pockets for his reading glasses. His brow furrowed when he recognized the handwriting. He had not seen his son since 1861 when he enlisted in the Alabama Cavalry. The judge tore open the letter and read it quickly. His eyes began welling with tears, but he rubbed them away. “How did he die?” he asked Johannes quietly when he finished the letter.

  “He was a brave man, Your Honor,” Johannes said to the judge. “He died leading a Cavalry charge against our forces. They never had a chance, but he and his men fought bravely,” Johannes reassured the judge.

  “Thank you for letting me know,” the judge said as he rubbed his eyes. “Now can you do me a favor?” he implored Johannes. “Please deliver this letter to his mother at my home. She also needs to know what happened to our son.”

  The judge looked at Johannes and noticed his dirty ill-fitting clothing. Johannes had lost a large amount of weight during his years in the Union Army. Dysentery was rampant in the army camps during most of the war. “You can also stay with my family while you are in Huntsville,” declared the judge. “It’s the least I can do for bringing this letter to me.”

  Johannes agreed. As he was leaving, he turned back to Judge Crabshaw. “They told me you were to hang for being a Confederate. Is that true?” he asked.

  The judge laughed, “I doubt it. Once they realize I am the only Justice of the Peace in the county they will come to their senses. Now, go before it gets dark. I’m sure you must be hungry.” Johannes left the courthouse quickly and walked southeast towards the judge's house.

  Chapter Ten

  Johannes knocked on the door of the white Antebellum house on Eustis Avenue. Eliza Crabshaw answered the door. “Can I help you?” she asked sternly while standing in the doorway.

  “Judge Crabshaw sent me,” Johannes explained. “I have a letter to deliver to Mrs. Crabshaw.

  “All right. Please wait here,” she said, turned, and called for her mother to come to the front door. Her mother was in the backyard working in the vegetable garden. Their servants had run away when the Union Army arrived in Huntsville and now, she maintained it herself. Eliza’s mother removed her garden gloves when she arrived at the front door. She found Johannes standing forlornly on the front step.

  “Did you ask him to come in?” she scolded her daughter.

  “Why, Mother? He’s only a Yankee,” she said and stepped aside to allow Johannes to enter their home.

  “Ma’am. Your husband asked me to give you this letter personally.” Johannes continued, “It’s from your son.” Johannes held the opened letter in his outstretched hand. Eliza’s mother hesitated to take the letter. Finally, she grabbed it, and her eyes filled with tears as she began reading. Eliza became alarmed when her mother suddenly sat down.

  “Mother, are you, all right?” she asked.

  Mrs. Crabshaw ignored her and finished reading the letter before placing it in her pocket. She sobbed quietly to herself for a few moments with her head bowed before wiping away her tears and standing up. “Mother, what is it?” inquired Eliza. Her mother did not answer her.

  “I am sorry, I forgot my manners. May we prepare you a drink?” she asked Johannes. He nodded his head. The heat had been oppressive while he walked through town from the courthouse, and had a terrible thirst. “Eliza, please fetch this gentleman a cool drink. And hurry!” her mother said. Eliza left the room with a puzzled look on her face. “Did you know my son?” Eliza’s mother asked.

  “No, I only had met him just before he died, Ma’am.” Johannes sat down in the parlor. “But he seemed like a fine man.”

  Eliza’s mother wiped another tear from her cheek. “Yes, he had a promising future. He wanted to practice the law like his father. But now that can no longer be.” She choked back a quiet sob. “Now, young man, What about you? What are your plans?”

  “Well, Ma’am, I am on my way to New Orleans. My friend’s plantation was confiscated by the Union Army, and I will try to help his daughter recover her inheritance,” Johannes said, neglecting to tell her he killed his friend, a Confederate spy in a firefight.

  Eliza’s mother smiled weakly. “A noble cause. Well, please stay here with us until you have to leave,” she said.

  “Thank you, Ma’am.” said a relieved Johannes.

  Eliza returned with some cool drinks for Johannes and her mother. She handed a tall glass of lemonade to Johannes who took a large drink. “Eliza, fix up Frank’s room for this gentleman. He will stay with us for a while,” Mrs. Crabshaw ordered. Eliza gave her mother another puzzled look, but she led Johannes up the backstairs to her brother’s room. While her mother took the letter from her son out of her pocket and reread it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brodick Castle, Arran Scotland

  The Dowager Duchess of Hamilton recalled the newspaper reports during that terrible summer in 1863.

  “On Wednesday, July 15, 1863, at the age of fifty-two, the Duke of Hamilton died in Paris, after falling down the stairs of the Maison Dorée on the Boulevard des Italians.”

  They even reported that when Queen Victoria heard the news, she wrote to her daughter, Victoria, the Prussian Crown Princess:

  “How shocking too is the Duke of Hamilton's death! He had I fear been drinking too much in a café in Paris! Poor thing, I feel so much for her!'” referring to the Dowager Duchess of Hamilton.

  But the Dowager Duchess suspected the death of her husband was not an accident and instead involved General Roguet of French Intelligence. After his threats to her during their previous meeting in Baden three years before, she was fearful for her husband and children’s safety. But her husband had laughed at her concerns when she approached him before his last trip to Paris. He told her, “Not to worry. The Emperor owes me quite a considerable sum of money and wouldn’t dare hurt me!”

  After her husband’s death, Emperor Napoleon III had even sent his sympathies to her and her family and invited her to the Tuileries Palace. But the Dowager Duchess declined due to grief over his death and also fear of General Roguet. Meanwhile, the Emperor became distracted with his foreign entanglements in Mexico and Italy and thought no more of it.

  The Dowager’s initial instinct was to refer the matter to the Metropolitan Police. But she suspected there were French spies in Scotland Yard. She thought, “There was only one man I know who would be discreet performing an investigation into the death of my husband.” His name was Richard Cordwell, and he was one of the best detectives in Scotland Yard and also a close friend. Cordwell had recently returned to London from New York City after guarding Her Majesty’s gold bullion during the American Civil War. She decided to send him an urgent note and ask him to join her and her children at Brodick Castle. She needed his help to prove General Roguet had murdered her husband!

  Chapter Twelve

  The Dowager Duchess spotted Richard Cordwell when he arrived at Brodick Castle the following day. She excused herself to the Crown Princess of Wales sitting next to her to walk to the door to greet him. “Richard, I am so delighted to see you!” she gushed as the Scotland Yard detective entered the Foyer.

  Richard bowed and took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss. He had not seen the Duchess since their adventures in Baden several years earlier. He wondered why she summoned him to Scotland.

  “How may I help you, My Lady?” Richard inquired as she led him to a small settee next to her in a corner of the Drawing Room. He looked around and was surprised to see the Prince of Wales sitting next to the Dowager’s son. The Prince of Wales and the young Duke of Hamilton often hunted together on the Isle of Arran and he and his wife were frequent guests at Brodick Castle. The Prince of Wales acknowledged the detective when he entered but turned back to the young Duke to resume their conversation about horse racing.

  “I need your help, Richard!” the Dowager Duchess spoke in low tones. “I am afraid my son is in danger.”

  Richard patted her hand and soothed her, “I’m certain you are exaggerating.” A servant approached them and offered Richard a glass of wine. Richard waved him away and turned back to his hostess. “What have you overheard?” he asked as he glanced over at the young Duke. He and the Prince of Wales were now deep in conversation about their upcoming stakes on the next day’s races.

  The Dowager noted, “My friend Empress Eugénie overheard her husband with General Roguet. They said they were convinced the young Duke was spying on the Emperor when he was in Paris. And besides, they also said something even more mysterious. Eugénie overheard them saying they would take care of the meddling Duke like his father.”

  She grabbed Richard Cordwell’s arm. “Richard, I need you to find out what they meant. Newspaper reports say my poor husband fell down the stairs at La Maison Dorée. But I think he was murdered!” The Dowager said earnestly.

  The statement surprised Richard. He was in America when her husband died. All he knew was what the French officials described in the newspapers. The Duke had died of a cerebral hemorrhage after a terrible fall downstairs. “Was there another reason?” he wondered. It piqued his interest at this point.

  “Yes. My Lady. I will check with my French sources,” Richard Cordwell reassured the Dowager Duchess.

  “Please hurry!” the Dowager insisted. “I’m afraid for my son. For all we know, the Prince of Wales may also be in danger.”

  At this comment, Richard jerked his head and turned to look at the Prince of Wales. The young Duke of Hamilton was now attempting to persuade the Crown Prince to invest in his stable of horses before the racing season finished. Richard assured the Dowager Duchess everything would be fine and begged his leave. He told her he would inform Scottish police to have a man stand guard at the castle. The Dowager relaxed and rejoined the Crown Princess who was needle pointing in the center of the room. The Prince of Wales observed Richard get up and nodded at him. Richard gave him a slight bow as he left the room.

  Cordwell returned to London and requested a meeting with Sir Richard Mayne, Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police. He explained to Sir Richard the Dowager Duchess of Hamilton’s concerns. Sir Richard ordered him to Paris to secretly open an investigation of circumstances leading to the death of the late Duke of Hamilton.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Washington City

  Meantime, Major O’Beirne was continuing his investigation into the assassination of President Lincoln. Although John Wilkes Booth and several of his associates were already captured or killed, O’Beirne was angry. Secretary Stanton had given the leads he uncovered about John Wilkes Booth's escape to Virginia to Lieutenant Colonel Conger and Lieutenant Baker. This allowed them to earn the bulk of the $100,000 reward offered by the War Department for the capture of Booth. He was now determined to capture any remaining Booth accomplices by himself.

  Major O’Beirne discovered one of them had escaped to Ohio. The fugitive’s name was Carroll, and he had secured the boat for John Wilkes Booth to escape across the Potomac River. O’Beirne took the first train out of Baltimore to Cincinnati and then to Columbus, Ohio. When he arrived, he contacted the local Provost Marshal detectives and secured their help in his investigation.

  Major O’Beirne discovered Carroll was rumored to be on his way to Canada to meet up with the escaped fugitive John Surratt. Surratt is the son of Mary Surratt who ran the boarding house where John Wilkes Booth developed the plan to assassinate President Lincoln. Mary Surratt had already been found guilty in the conspiracy to assassinate the president and scheduled to hang for her role in the plot.

  After he arrived in Columbus, the detective discovered Carroll’s family lived in Delphos and he was rumored to be in town. Major O’Beirne and the Columbus detectives rushed to Delphos to capture the fugitive before he escaped. O’Beirne disguised himself as an old crippled soldier on crutches as he went into town alone to determine Carroll’s whereabouts. He told the other detectives to wait on the outskirts of town until he gave them a signal.

  Stanislaus happened to be in town buying provisions from the Delphos General Store. He noticed a crippled old soldier struggling with his crutches on the street. “Can I assist you?” he asked.

  Major O’Beirne turned toward him. “No, but perhaps you can direct me to a man by the name of Carroll. I am his cousin from Virginia and wanted to return some money to him.”

  Stanislaus shook his head. “No, sir, I do not know of someone by that name. Perhaps, the owner of the General Store may know him,” he said as he pointed toward the General Store.

  “Much obliged,” O’Beirne said. “I was making my way there when you stopped me.”

  “Well, I am going there myself. Perhaps, I can show you the way,” Stanislaus said with a smile.

  Major O’Beirne followed Stanislaus into the Delphos General store. It was dark and piled high with farm equipment, wooden barrels, and sacks of flour. Major O’Beirne went to the counter and inquired about Carroll.

  “Carroll, you say?” The proprietor scratched his head. “Oh yes, I know him. He’s been visiting his sister for the past several weeks. You can find him in the saloon at this time of day,” The proprietor said nonchalantly. “Best, you do not bother him. He’s been drinking pretty heavily since the war ended.” The proprietor then went to help another customer.

  Stanislaus noticed a slight bulge under Major O’Beirne’s jacket. Major O’Beirne turned to leave and his jacket slipped open. Stanislaus saw the glint of an army pistol in the sunlight. He grabbed an ax handle and went directly towards O’Beirne. “Stop, Mister!” he said, threatening him with the ax handle. “This is a peaceful town, and we don’t want any trouble.”

  Major O’Beirne spun around and saw Stanislaus holding the ax handle and threatening to hit him. Major O’Beirne laughed. “Slow down!” he said. “I’m with the Provost Marshal’s office and am looking for a fugitive.” He pulled an old wallet out of his pocket and flashed a Provost Marshal badge. Stanislaus put down the ax handle and muttered his apologies. “Will you come with me to the Saloon? I can use some help if this character is as bad as he says.” O’Beirne pointed to the General Store proprietor. Stanislaus agreed and accompanied Major O’Beirne into the saloon. Several men were sitting at the bar while one man sat alone at a table in the corner facing the wall and drinking heavily. Major O’Beirne slowly ambled his way to the table. He nodded to Stanislaus to barricade the door, so he would not escape. The man ignored O’Beirne as he approached. “Might I have a seat?” Major O’Beirne said to the man. But he barely looked up.

  “It’s a free country.” the man said, continuing to drink his beer.

  “You wouldn’t be a man by the name of Carroll?” O’Beirne asked.

  “Who wants to know?” asked Carroll as he looked suspiciously at the old cripple in front of him.

  “The United States Government,” said Major O’Beirne as he dropped his crutches and pulled out his army revolver from his jacket pocket. Carroll jumped up, upending the table, which knocked O’Beirne to the floor. His revolver spun away. Carroll leaped and grabbed Major O’Beirne’s gun, stood up, and leveled it at the Provost Marshal. Major O’Beirne frantically attempted to stand up. But Carroll cocked the trigger of the revolver and pointed It toward O’Beirne’s head.

  “No one is taking me back to get hung!” Carroll placed both hands on the revolver to steady his aim. But before he could pull the trigger, Stanislaus hit him on the back of the head with the ax handle. The man’s thick skull caused the handle to crack. Carroll dropped the revolver and fell unconscious on the floor of the saloon. Stanislaus helped Major O’Beirne to his feet.

  “I’m mighty grateful. This man is an accomplice in the killing of President Lincoln,” O’Beirne said as he picked up his revolver off the floor. The other men in the saloon circled Carroll’s unconscious body. They congratulated Stanislaus for his quick thinking. Two of the men hauled Carroll onto a chair and attempted to rouse him as Major O’Beirne slapped iron manacles on his wrists.

  When Carroll regained consciousness, he began wringing his hands crying, “They will hang me! They will hang me!”

  At long last, the Columbus Provost Marshal detectives entered the saloon. They had waited for Major O’Beirne and when he did not return, they had come into town looking for him. Trailing them was a newspaper reporter. He had followed the Provost Marshals from Columbus after hearing about their investigation. After witnessing the capture of the fugitive Carroll, he decided to file a story about Major O’Beirne’s successful pursuit and capture of the last conspirator in the assassination of President Lincoln. The story was syndicated in newspapers worldwide.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Coburg, Germany

  Richard Cordwell was accompanying the Prince and Princess of Wales to the unveiling of the statue of the Prince’s late father Prince Albert. Scotland Yard had ordered Richard to protect the Crown Prince while he was in Germany after death threats were reported against him.

  His mother Queen Victoria had already left their hotel for the presentation. She was traveling in the carriage with her brother-in-law Ernst, Duke of Saxe-Coburg. Prussia and Austria were threatening to go to war, and the small German principalities were caught in between them. Ernst was trying to persuade Queen Victoria to exercise her influence to mediate between the two great powers.

  Richard Cordwell was looking out of the carriage for any potential danger when the Crown Prince addressed him. “Do you think I am in any danger, Richard? Richard, are you listening to me?” the Crown Prince said with annoyance in his voice when Richard did not immediately answer.

  Richard turned toward the prince and said, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. They would not attempt an assassination while all the German Princes were in attendance. Assassins prefer to work in darkness.”

 

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