"Finishing her outburst of indignation, in which she made no attempt to conceal her disgust for Gallagher, Mrs. Watson turned around and resumed her seat like a queen, amidst the silent applause of all present. She had won their hearts hands down, and as the clatter of voices could be heard once more, Gallagher could be seen making a quiet sneak, with the air of one who refused to be comforted."
Luncheon finished, there was nothing further for me to do but to make my leave-taking from my new-found friend as pleasant as possible, which I did with the best grace at my command.
Returning to the office of my attorney, I learned that all arrangements had been perfected for Mrs. Watson's return to Oregon that night, accompanied by Deputy United States Marshal Milton, a gentleman fully 65 years of age. who was one of the most trusted men in the Government service. I then sent word to her through my attorney that I should also probably leave for Portland the same evening or the following morning, at the very latest.
Upon my arrival in Portland I ascertained that Mrs. Watson had reached the city the evening before, and was stopping at the Imperial Hotel, having furnished cash bond in the sum of $4,000 as soon as she got there.
I was somewhat surprised, in calling upon Mrs. Watson at the hotel, to find her in excellent spirits. She had enjoyed the trip immensely, she said, and was greatly pleased with the kind consideration shown her by Deputy Marshal Milton, whom she declared was a gallant escort.
Some weeks later, while discussing the arrest of Mrs. Watson with an old acquaintance who happened to be in the Government service, I was considerably amused to learn of Col. A. R. Greene's wild-goose chase across the continent in response to the first news of her capture. The Special Inspector of the Department of the Interior was of that calibre who fancied that everything would go wrong unless he were consulted upon an important matter of this character.
Rushing to his room as soon as he got word that Mrs. Watson had been apprehended, he bundled what wearing apparel he could get hold of in his haste, and made a break for the railroad depot.
"First-class ticket for Chicago!" he thundered. "Never mind the Pullman—I can get that on board. Oh, yes; my change—I nearly forgot that," and he bolted through the gate like the belated fragment of a Kansas cyclone, with his billygoat whiskers streaming behind as a fluttering farewell. The train seemed to creep along with snailish speed to the one whose vivid imagination led him to believe that everything would be at a standstill until he got there. His eagerness knew no bounds, and the Windy City had no sooner been reached than he jumped into a waiting cab and was away like a flash for the United States Marshal's office, where his animated appearance created no end of surprise.
"Why, hello, Greene, old boy; how are you?" came from one.
"Thought you were out in Oregon?" chimed in another.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the old man himself," echoed a third, and being more bold than the others, he ventured to ask:
"What brings you here, Colonel?"
"Oh, nothing much," he replied with an air of nonchalance; "just came to take her back, that's all."
"Take who back?" came a chorus of voices.
"Why, the woman we have been hunting for these many moons, of course—Mrs. Watson, the land fraud queen, to be sure!"
Then they all gave him the horse-laugh, until one, in the pity of his heart, broke the sad news to the famous Government sleuth, and told him how she had been gone long enough to be pretty near home by this time, and that he had had his labor for his pains in coming after her.
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