A Tell-Tale Toothpick
A Story of a Disembarreled Body
New York Mercury
Jesse Ferrett’s den, or room, was a most interesting spot; and Jesse Ferrett’s conversational powers combined truth with delightfully descriptive pictures, associated with criminal history, in which he as a detective had created shares.
A little walnut cabinet contained some odds and ends of testimony bearing value, reminding the treasurer of scenes in which he had mounted to renown and competence.
“Now, there,” said he, “is a bit of wooden toothpick, bitten off square at one end and chewed to a fibrous pulp at the other; would you believe that this innocent thing could bring a man to the dangling end of a rope or drive him into eternity?”
“No telling,” said I, wisely expectant, and adding with judicious flattery, “You fellows are cunning enough to telescope testimony through a dead and stray hair.”
“Yes, but the toothpick! Consider what a very ordinary circumstance a mutilated toothpick is.”
“Sure enough, but I don’t forget that Ferrett is not an ordinary man, even among his colleagues.”
That bit of honest blarney got him, and I got the story. We elevated our feet upon the table after lighting our cigars, and observing a fresh bottle nestling in its icy crush within reach of our hands, he related the story of the toothpick.
“You recollect, it was in the winter of 18— what a hurrah there was about finding a body packed in a barrel? It had been shipped from Chicago prepaid to some little town in Wisconsin, addressed to a name that had no personality, and hence… Read More