The White Rose of Memphis

“‘Please let us go and see this man first. I wish to leave on the 2:30 train this afternoon; he may want time to get ready – we had better see him first. I can talk with you more at leisure after we have conferred with Mr. Dabbs. If you will accompany me I shall be under many obligations, and then I will detail to you the unfortunate intelligence which has made it necessary for me to employ a sharp detective.’

“‘Ah, yes! yes, you are right, Mr. Demar; I see you understand how to economize time; that’s quite a gift; time, you know, rolls on, whether we roll or not. It is a great thing to know how to roll on so as never to be behind time. We can go and find Mr. Dabbs first, and confer with him; then, while we talk matters over, he can make his arrangements so as to be ready to go with you.’

“‘Come along then, Demar; we’ll go to Dabbs’ quarters now. He holds forth on Chestnut street, just below Independence Hall; you may have noticed his sign sticking on a shabby panel at the foot of the stairs, on the right as you go down the street, beyond the hall. Queer man is Dabbs; you had better let me do the talking, as I know better how to manage him, perhaps, than a mere stranger would. I hope we shall find him disengaged, though it would be the merest accident if we did, for he is nearly always busy; he does more work than all the other detectives in the city. By the by, here’s his headquarters now; shabby quarters, aren’t they? Seems to me if I could coin money as he does, I’d rent more comfortable rooms. Just look at the dirt on that floor! don’t think it has been swept since the Declaration of Independence. I declare, I can’t see how people can stand so much dirt. Phew! what an infernal stench comes up through that hole! I must call the attention of the sanitary board to it; I declare, it is abominable, detestable! But come along, and let us get away from this place as soon as we can.’

“‘Where is Dabbs?’ inquired Doctor Vannesse of a little squint-eyed man with a very sharp nose, the end of which seemed to be making a desperate effort to get into his mouth.

“‘Gone out, sir,’ was the answer, made in a voice that sounded like the grunt of a hog.

“‘I guessed he was out, sir, as it is very plain that he is not in!’ said the doctor, angrily.

“I confess that the man’s very looks was an insult, and his voice was worse than assault and battery. He was smoking a cheap cigar, his shirt-front all stained with tobacco juice; his little round head was covered with a profusion of coarse black hair, standing out like porcupine quills, and I thought he was drunk as soon as I saw him.

“‘When will Dabbs be in?’ asked the doctor.

“‘Dunno,’ was the grunt.

“‘Where can he be found?’

“‘Dunno.’

“‘What do you know about Dabbs?’

“‘Nuthin’.’

“‘Come along, Demar – that fellow’s drunk. Maybe we can find some one on the next floor who can give us some information.’

“We had not reached the door when I heard some one behind me call Doctor Vannesse in a most pleasant voice, and turning round, we discovered the sharp-nosed man laughing as if he would shake himself to pieces.

“‘Ha, ha, ha! didn’t know me, did you, doc? thought I was drunk, too, ha, ha, ha! Come back and take seats; what can I do for you?’

“I was filled with astonishment; he was the very man we were looking for, so completely disguised that Doctor Vannesse, who had seen him a thousand times, did not recognize him. I never heard a more pleasant tone of voice, and his manners were those of a well-bred gentleman.

“‘By Jove, Dabbs!’ exclaimed the doctor. ‘I came very near knocking you down with a chair; who would have thought it was you? What’s up, Dabbs, that makes you look like old Nick’s engineer?’

“‘Some of old Nick’s agents have been out on an excursion, but I’ve got ‘em jugged; had just finished up the job five minutes before you came in. It’s a case of poisoning – always very difficult to work up, you know – but I peeled the peach at last. They had the wrong man arrested, as is usual in such cases, but I unearthed the guilty one, and he’s sure to get a through ticket.’

“‘Well, Dabbs, Mr. Demar here, who is a friend of mine, has a job on hand which he wishes you to work up; he wants you to go with him to Memphis; money is no object in this case – the pay will be liberal. Can you go?’

“‘I guess so, unless the boss has something on hand, just wait here a moment – I’ll go and see him. Nothing would suit me better than a trip down in Dixie.’

“Thus saying, he disappeared through a back door, leaving the doctor and me alone.

“‘Deuced sharp fellow, I assure you, Demar – works like a beaver, and hangs on like a badger; never fails to bring the truth to the surface; I hope you will secure him.’

“‘I shall consider myself lucky, indeed, if I can take him with me to Memphis. The case he has been telling us about is somewhat similar to the one I have on hand.’

“‘Ah, indeed! then he will be the better prepared to work it up; by the way, here he comes now. How is it, Dabbs, can you go?’

“‘Yes, it is all right; when do you wish me to start, Mr. Demar?’

“‘On the 2:30 train this afternoon – Pittsburg line; can you be ready by that time?’

“‘Oh, yes, I’m always ready; let me know the nature of the case you wish me to investigate. It may be necessary to send a telegram immediately; nothing like getting an early start in affairs of this kind; a warm track is much easier to follow than a cold one. I happen to have an old partner in Memphis, which I consider quite a lucky thing in this instance; I’ll send a dispatch directing him what to do until I arrive. Mr. Tadpoddle will be of invaluable service to me, for he has worked in Memphis, in my line, for many years. Give me your case at once, Mr. Demar, and then I’ll telegraph Mr. Tadpoddle what to do.’

“‘This will lead you into the light of the matter, Mr. Dabbs,’ I said, handing him the letter I had received from Harry.

“When he had read the letter he handed it back to me, saying:

“‘Bad job, Mr. Demar; these kind of cases are very difficult to manage; but Tadpoddle and I can do it if it can be done. I have just finished up a case similar to this one, and I must say that crimes of that kind are increasing fearfully; and the worst of it is the suspicion, in a majority of such cases, falls on the wrong man; I trust it will prove so in this one. If it should, however, turn out that they have arrested the right one, I must say it is a most horrible affair. I am glad that your friend Wallingford acted so promptly in having the premises placed in charge of an officer – it will facilitate our work very much; then it prevents any smuggling, or putting out of tracks by accomplices, which is often done by partners in crime. You may go now, Mr. Demar; I’ll meet you at the depot in time for the 2:30 train; I have nothing to do but pack up my traps, which won’t take many minutes.’

“‘Well, Demar,’ said Doctor Vannesse, ‘let us go to your room now, and then I will hear a history of this case of yours.’

“I went by the telegraph office and sent a dispatch to Harry, informing him that I would start immediately, accompanied by the best detective officer in the city. ‘Guard the premises closely – life and death may depend on that,’ were the closing words of my dispatch. Arriving at my room, I handed Harry’s letter to Doctor Vannesse, and while he was reading I sat and watched the changes in his countenance wrought by the dreadful news it contained.

“‘By Jove! Demar, this is most horrible! It beats anything I ever heard of; do you think she is guilty?’

“‘If she committed the murder she was insane – she never did it while in her proper mind; she was more like an angel than a murderess. The idea that she committed murder for money is absurd; she hated money, and was scattering her fortune promiscuously among the poor and needy. There has been a strangeness in her conduct for the last eight months which has greatly puzzled her friends, and it may be possible that her mind was not right. She had had a misunderstanding with a young gentleman to whom she was very much attached.’

“‘Ah, yes! I see how it is; she has been laboring under temporary insanity,’ said the doctor; ‘but I fear that will not avail her in this case. The pleas of insanity are becoming so frequent that all courts view them with suspicion; I most earnestly hope you will be able to establish her innocence. Write to me, Demar, often, and keep me posted as to the progress of this case; I shall not be able to discard it from my mind until I know the final result. Good-by, old fellow, I must leave you now; success to you. My respects to that charming girl you are always talking about; I’d give a quarter’s salary to see her. If she is half so pretty as you say she is, it would delight me to look at her; Lottie, yes, Lottie – that’s the name, I believe – by the by, a very pretty name for a pretty girl; adieu.’

“When the doctor closed the door behind him as he passed out I began to arrange my baggage, while Lottie’s dear image floated before my mind; and my heart fluttered with excitement when I thought of the great pleasure it would afford me to be with her once more. I was at the depot twenty minutes ahead of time, and impatient and nervous; so much excited that I could not sit five minutes in one place. I think my pulse must have counted at least ninety to the minute; I snatched up a newspaper and tried to read, but couldn’t do it; looked at my watch a dozen times – compared it with the railway clock as often – then began to notice the crowd of travelers as they came hurrying in, hoping to see Dabbs among them, but he did not arrive until the conductor cried ‘All aboard!’ when I saw him elbowing his way through the crowd.

“‘I was afraid you would be left, Mr. Dabbs,’ I said, as he came up.

“‘Never was left in my life, sir; don’t think of me at all; I’m one of those kind of fellows that ain’t left; I know the value of time, sir; have been dispatching instructions to Tadpoddle; he’s got ’em before now – good, we’re off.’

“I found it a great relief to my restless mind to be with Dabbs, for he was an incessant talker, well posted on general subjects, and appeared to be willing to impart what he knew without any questions from me. He gave me an interesting history of many notorious criminals whose dark deeds had been brought to light by him as a detective officer. I would interest you with a repetition of them here, but my business is to describe occurrences more directly connected with my story. I will, therefore, read you Harry’s letter, as I think it will throw more light on the matter now in hand than anything I could say. Here it is:

“‘DEAR ED – Come home as quickly as you can; we are all in the deepest distress; a great misfortune has fallen on us, and we need you here to help us. Poor Lottie is in great sorrow, and your presence may help to console her. I beseech you not to lose a moment in coming. Viola is in jail, charged with the murder of her little brother. Oh, it is horrible! To think that poor girl should be thrust into a dungeon – like a common murderer – when she is as innocent as a lamb! the very thought makes the blood run cold in my veins. My conscience tells me that I am responsible, to some extent, for this terrible calamity, though not intentionally. The bare idea that Viola would commit such a foul, cruel murder, is preposterous! If every man, woman and child in the city of Memphis were to swear she is guilty, I would believe they were mistaken. Some awful mystery, some deep-laid scheme of villainy, has mixed itself up with the whole affair, and I mean to devote my life to the task of unearthing it. I have registered a solemn vow in Heaven never to seek rest until the perpetrator of this horrible crime is brought to justice. That the poor child has been cruelly murdered by some treacherous, cowardly villain, is a fact beyond all dispute; but the perpetrator has covered up his tracks so effectually that I fear we shall have no little difficulty in catching him. I love Viola; and since this trouble has come upon her I love her more than ever. I hate to use extravagant language, but the circumstances will justify it; I pray God to give me courage, strength and prudence, until I shall have unraveled this strange mystery. I must confess that the evidence points directly to Viola as the perpetrator of this unnatural murder; and there is where the mystery comes in. I happen to know that she loved her little brother devotedly, and instead of killing him, I believe she would have given up her own life to save his. She is an angel in gentleness, as pure as Diana, and I would stake my life, and all my hopes of salvation, on her innocence; yet many people believe her guilty. The poor child was murdered by poison, administered in his medicine. The post-mortem examination developed this fact, so as to place it beyond question, large quantities of strychnine being found in the stomach. I was led to hope that the evidence would establish the fact that the poison had been administered by mistake; but that hope was extinguished when Doctor Dodson made his statement. The child had been suffering with chills and fever for several days, and Doctor Dodson was called in to take charge of the case; he left five small doses of quinine with Viola, directing her to administer one dose every two hours, commencing at four o’clock P. M. The quinine was wrapped in small slips of blue paper, and the bottle out of which the doctor took it was found setting on the mantel, where he had placed it when he measured out the quantity to be given the patient; and after the child was dead two of the doses of quinine which the doctor had made up were found on the table by the bedside, which, upon examination, were found to be unmixed with any poison; that, of course, destroyed the theory that strychnine had been administered by mistake. Viola says that she gave the child three doses of the medicine, commencing promptly at four o’clock, as instructed by the doctor, and that soon after she gave him the third dose he began to complain of a burning in his stomach, which continued to grow worse until she became alarmed and called a servant to go after Doctor Dodson. The servant was gone a long time, and, when he returned, said that he had been unable to find the doctor; that he had been called to see a patient, and no one could tell when he would be back. By this time the child was in convulsions; Mr. Ragland and his wife were at the theatre, and no other persons were on the premises except the servants, one of whom was dispatched with instructions to bring the first physician he could find, while another was sent to the theatre after Mr. Ragland. The servant who had been sent for a doctor returned in about an hour, accompanied by Doctor Plaxico. It was ten minutes after ten when the doctor arrived, and he found the child in a dying condition. Mr. Ragland and his wife reached home a few minutes before the doctor. The child expired at 11.45 P. M. He had been dead twenty minutes when Doctor Dodson came in, completely overwhelmed with astonishment at finding his patient dead. Doctor Plaxico requested Doctor Dodson to grant him a private interview, and they went into another room, when Doctor Plaxico closed the door, turned the key in the lock, and made a cautious survey of the room to assure himself that they were alone; then approaching Doctor Dodson, he spoke in a low, cautious tone, as if measuring every word he uttered:

“‘“The poor child has been murdered, as sure as God is on His throne.”

“‘“Merciful Heavens! Doctor Plaxico, don’t tell me that!” exclaimed Doctor Dodson, as he staggered to a sofa.

“‘“I tell you the truth, and nothing but what I know to be truth! Would to Heaven it were not so, but the evidence is overwhelming. That boy died from the effects of poison administered to him by some one in this very house, this very night; I know what I say, and mean what I assert.”

“‘“Stop, Plaxico! stop, I implore you; you don’t know what you are saying; you have been taking over-much wine.”

“‘“No, you are wrong there! not a drop have I tasted within the last twenty-four hours; my brain was never more clear than it is this moment; and again I tell you the child has been murdered!”

“‘“Don’t say murder! it takes malice to constitute murder; who could bear malice against an innocent little boy like him?”

“‘“Does the highwayman bear malice against the poor traveler when he kills him for his money?”

“‘“But who gets any money by the death of this poor child?”

“‘“The very one who administered the death-dealing drug.”

“‘”’Tis untrue! and who utters it is an idiot!”

“‘“Keep calm, Doctor Dodson, I beseech you; I can forgive your strong language, knowing, as I do, that you will soon be sorry for having used it; but you will be of my opinion as to this case before long. We must make an autopsy, and then you will doubtless be convinced that the child has been dosed to death with poison.”

“‘Doctor Dodson leaned back on the sofa, buried his face in his hands and groaned. After remaining silent for a long time, endeavoring to collect his thoughts, he said:

“‘“What evidence have you that causes you to conclude the child has been poisoned?”

“‘“Having seen several persons die from its effects, and seeing the boy die from it this very night. I knew it was poison as soon as I arrived, and might have saved him if I had been here an hour sooner; but it was too late when I came.”

“‘“Is that all your evidence?”

“‘“No, no! not by any means; I have found something which I guess will startle you when you see it; look at that and tell me if you know what it is?”

“‘“Of course – that is a small phial of strychnine; but what does that signify; will you please tell me?”

“‘“I found this in a little drawer of a bureau in Miss Bramlett’s room. Her brother died from the effects of poison, and she was ordered by you to administer quinine to her brother, but she administered something else. Do I speak sufficiently plain? Do you understand me? Shall I say anything more by way of explaining what I mean?”

“‘“Hush, hush! for Heaven’s sake, stop! give me time to think. How many papers of the quinine had been given to the child when you arrived?”

“‘“Miss Bramlett said that she administered three doses, and that the last one made her brother sick!”

“‘“Did you find the doses that had not been given to the patient?”

“‘“I found two papers on the table near the bed containing quinine, and have them here now.”

“‘“Have you examined them to see whether they contain quinine or something else?”

“‘“Yes, their contents is pure, unadulterated quinine.”

“‘“You don’t mean to say that you think Miss Bramlett has intentionally killed her brother!”

“‘“But I do mean to say that very thing; who else could have done it? How could it have been a mistake? Didn’t she administer the medicine? Hasn’t the boy died from poison? Doesn’t she make a large fortune by his death? Wasn’t she alone with him all the time? What was she doing with this bottle of strychnine in her bureau? All the lawyers in Tennessee can’t save her neck!”

“‘“Plaxico, you are crazy as a March hare! You don’t know what you are talking about! I knew that girl when she was a mere child – have known her ever since – and I tell you she is one of the most amiable, sweet, gentle, pure girls in the world. She doted on her little brother, and it is absurd to say that she has murdered him. As for money, she despises it, and has been squandering it by thousands, among the worthy poor of the city. I think the best policy for you to pursue is to keep your absurd opinions to yourself. The poor girl has plenty of sorrow to endure, without your help to increase it.”

“‘Doctor Plaxico began to pace the floor rapidly; after a few minutes spent in that way he squared himself in front of Doctor Dodson, and, looking him earnestly in the face for several seconds in silence, he said:

“‘“Dodson, I have many faults, I know – faults of which I am heartily ashamed – I have a weakness, when it comes to wine and other stimulants; but I profess to be an honest, Christian gentleman – a God-fearing man, if you please – and I cannot get the consent of my conscience to let this matter drop here. As I am a living man, I believe that child has been murdered – most cruelly deprived of his young life by his unnatural, heartless sister! Oh, sir! my heart grows faint when I think of it. She, whose duty it was to love and guard that young life, has slipped in instead like a thief and stolen it. Of all the crimes that ever were committed, this one appears to me to be the blackest, the most cowardly and damnable!”

“‘“Is it not possible that you may be mistaken, after all, as to the cause of the child’s death?”

“‘“Not at all; the symptoms were unmistakable and certain.”

“‘“What course do you mean to pursue in regard to the case?”

“‘“Notify the coroner, of course, have an inquest, make an autopsy, lay the evidence before the civil authorities, and then let the law take its course.”

“‘“Be it so, then, and I pray God to give that poor girl strength to endure this great calamity, for of her purity and innocence I have no doubt whatever; and you will some day regret the share you had in bringing this suspicion down on her.”

“‘“I never shall regret doing what is my plain duty; though I shall be more than delighted if it can appear that she is innocent; but I beg to say that I think you do me injustice when you speak of my bringing the suspicion down on her. It rather seems to me that the circumstances are responsible for doing that, and not me.”

“‘“One question I forgot to ask – have you said anything to Miss Bramlett about the phial of strychnine which you say you found in her bureau drawer?”

“‘“No, I did not; nor have I mentioned it to any one but you. Mr. and Mrs. Ragland know nothing whatever about my suspicions.”

“‘“Wouldn’t it be advisable not to mention your suspicions until after the autopsy?”

“‘“Probably it would; if you advise that course, I shall gladly concur.”

“‘“Be it so, then; let the coroner be notified at once.”

“‘I was soundly sleeping in my bed when a messenger from Doctor Dodson came thundering at my door, demanding admittance. Before I was fully awake he informed me that the doctor wanted to see me as soon as I could come to his office. The messenger said that something serious must have happened, for he never had seen the doctor looking so nervous and unhappy. As soon as I could dress myself I hastened to the office. The night was very dark, the streets swimming in mud, the dim lamps at the corners cast a pale, sickly light over the pavement, my boot-heels made a loud, lonely sound as they struck the hard stones, while the messenger walked quietly behind me. My mind was in a fit condition to anticipate coming evil. And strange as you may think it, I felt sure that something awful had happened, and that Viola was in some way mixed up with it. The messenger had by no means exaggerated in his description of Doctor Dodson’s excitement. I never had seen him in such a state of agitation as I found him when I reached his office. He hurriedly gave me the details of what had occurred, in substance as I have given them to you, and I was astonished at the coolness with which I listened to the horrible narrative, but I believe I have become callous, and perhaps it is best for me to be so, as it will enable me to do the work before me with the deliberation that is so necessary. Doctor Dodson, Heaven bless him! agrees with me in the opinion that Viola is innocent, and will aid me in establishing it before the world. The first thing I did was to inform Lottie of what had happened, and send her to stay with Viola, in order to sustain her, as much as possible, under this great affliction. Lottie is in great distress, but is a perfect little heroine, and has been with Viola ever since the troubles commenced, indefatigable in her efforts to comfort and encourage her. The next step was to see the newspaper managers and induce them not to mention the matter in the papers. I had a double object in view, in that respect; in the first place, I wanted to keep Viola’s name out of public print; my next motive was to keep everything as private as possible, in order to let the detectives have a better chance to work up the case. Doctor Dodson went to see the coroner – who is a good friend of his – and that officer agreed that the inquest might be held privately. Doctors Dodson and Plaxico made a post-mortem examination, when the evidences of poison were unmistakable. The inquest was held in Mr. Ragland’s house, and only a few witnesses were examined. The verdict of the jury would have been different, no doubt, but for the phial of strychnine found in Viola’s bureau drawer, and what is most singular and unaccountable to me, is that Viola acknowledges she purchased the strychnine, but refuses to tell for what purpose. That circumstance alone caused the jury to render a verdict implicating her. Here is the exact wording of the verdict, after going on with the ordinary formalities and recitations as to dates, venue, etc.: