Richmond had fallen—Class of detective work entirely changed— Counterfeiters—Secretary McCullogh—Go to steamboat of the Leary Line and capture a youthful murderer—Arrest of Mrs. Beverly Tucker.

Richmond had fallen, Lee had surrendered and the end was near. Disbandment and readjustment, to a civil basis, was then in order. Whatever work I did after this was of that character. I was no longer to chase my dream of crippling Mosby. Probably he did not know I lived. He might have smiled at my proposition, but I enjoyed the dream nevertheless.

This was a new field for me and I delved into the matter with success. Counterfeit money, in slang, is called "queer," and those who pass it on the public are called "shovers." Its manufacturer never "shoves" it, but sells it in quantities to small shop keepers, car conductors, and others, at a certain percentage of its face value—50 per cent. quite usually; the percentage, however, depends on whether it is well done or not.

Ramsey, at No. 146 Sixth Street, below Race Street, Philadelphia, was a medium. It was represented that the headquarters of the product was at Mahanoy City, Pa. I bought twenty-five dollars, face value, in twenty-five cent fractional currency very well done.

This was now a matter to be submitted to the Treasury Department, which I accordingly did, which was the reason for the following:

The above was an interesting case. The party to be apprehended was a young officer, described as very youthful in appearance, who had shot and killed a private soldier under very aggravating circumstances. He ordered the soldier to do a menial service, and killed him for refusing.

The steamboat had three hundred or four hundred passengers. We did not want to delay innocent persons, so I allowed all to pass off who were of age sufficient to warrant the conclusion that they were not wanted. Then I searched the boat and found a mere boy who appeared to be not over fourteen years old; he was the one wanted. He had been tried and convicted, and was on his way to jail (I think the Albany penitentiary) when he escaped. We started him on again under a guard. When in the Thirtieth Street station of the Hudson River Railroad, in New York City, he was permitted to go into a water closet alone. He never came out the door. He must have crawled out through the window, though it seemed not large enough to permit even a boy's egress. The guards became frightened and deserted. No one ever heard of either prisoner or guards so far as I know. This boy officer was certainly living a charmed life.