The Escape of Mr. Trimm His Plight and other Plights   By: Irvin S. Cobb (1876-1944)

[Illustration: NOBODY PAID ANY ATTENTION TO MR. TRIMM. Frontispiece ( Page 18. )]

THE ESCAPE OF MR. TRIMM

HIS PLIGHT AND OTHER PLIGHTS

BY

IRVIN S. COBB

AUTHOR OF OLD JUDGE PRIEST, BACK HOME, ETC.

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT, 1910, 1911, 1912 AND 1913

BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1913

BY THE FRANK A. MUNSEY COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1913

BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

[Transcriber's Note: A List of Illustrations has been added.]

TO MY WIFE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE ESCAPE OF MR. TRIMM 3

II. THE BELLED BUZZARD 54

III. AN OCCURRENCE UP A SIDE STREET 79

IV. ANOTHER OF THOSE CUB REPORTER STORIES 96

V. SMOKE OF BATTLE 142

VI. THE EXIT OF ANNE DUGMORE 179

VII. TO THE EDITOR OF THE SUN 202

VIII. FISHHEAD 244

IX. GUILTY AS CHARGED 260

ILLUSTRATIONS

NOBODY PAID ANY ATTENTION TO MR. TRIMM. Frontispiece

"TWO LONG WING FEATHERS DRIFTED SLOWLY DOWN." Facing page 70

"I WAS THE ONE THAT SHOT HIM WITH THIS THING HERE." Facing Page 164

HE DRAGGED THE RIFLE BY THE BARREL, SO THAT ITS BUTT MADE A CROOKED FURROW IN THE SNOW. Facing Page 193

THE ESCAPE OF MR. TRIMM

I

THE ESCAPE OF MR. TRIMM

Mr. Trimm, recently president of the late Thirteenth National Bank, was taking a trip which was different in a number of ways from any he had ever taken. To begin with, he was used to parlor cars and Pullmans and even luxurious private cars when he went anywhere; whereas now he rode with a most mixed company in a dusty, smelly day coach. In the second place, his traveling companion was not such a one as Mr. Trimm would have chosen had the choice been left to him, being a stupid looking German American with a drooping, yellow mustache. And in the third place, Mr. Trimm's plump white hands were folded in his lap, held in a close and enforced companionship by a new and shiny pair of Bean's Latest Model Little Giant handcuffs. Mr. Trimm was on his way to the Federal penitentiary to serve twelve years at hard labor for breaking, one way or another, about all the laws that are presumed to govern national banks.

All the time Mr. Trimm was in the Tombs, fighting for a new trial, a certain question had lain in his mind unasked and unanswered. Through the seven months of his stay in the jail that question had been always at the back part of his head, ticking away there like a little watch that never needed winding. A dozen times a day it would pop into his thoughts and then go away, only to come back again.

When Copley was taken to the penitentiary Copley being the cashier who got off with a lighter sentence because the judge and jury held him to be no more than a blind accomplice in the wrecking of the Thirteenth National Mr. Trimm read closely every line that the papers carried about Copley's departure. But none of them had seen fit to give the young cashier more than a short and colorless paragraph. For Copley was only a small figure in the big intrigue that had startled the country; Copley didn't have the money to hire big lawyers to carry his appeal to the higher courts for him; Copley's wife was keeping boarders; and as for Copley himself, he had been wearing stripes several months now.