The Wheeling Daily Register

A New Mode of Thief-Catching.

Traveling in the West some weeks since, I stopped for a few days at the little city of Wilmington, Illinois, about fifty miles south of Chicago, on the Alton railroad. Just before we arrived there a burglary was committed by which a lumber dealer, named Conval, lost about three hundred and fifty dollars, taken from a desk in his house in a very mysterious manner. Conval is a keen-eyed Frenchman, and after a few days of close observation in a quiet manner, he concluded there was just reason to suspect a man by the name of Tombleson, who had recently been in business with him, and who knew something of his affairs, and was familiar with the different apartments of his dwelling. He felt sure of his man. On Saturday night, after the burglary, he went to the cemetery, situated about half a mile from the city, and dug a grave in a conspicuous place. Early Sunday morning he called in a friendly way on Mr. T., and invited him to take a walk up the river a short distance to see a lot of lumber, pretended to have been purchased by him and lying in that direction. They started off together, and on their way passed through the cemetery. When they reached the newly made grave—which the Frenchman took care should be seen on their way—Mr. T. inquired of him what it meant, and for whom it was dug. When, drawing a revolver, he replied, "It mean for you, you must be bury dare if you shall not tell me here my money." The rascal, taken by surprise, scarcely knew what to say or do. He, however, mustered courage to deny the burglary and assert his innocence. But the Frenchman passed sentence upon him, and swore he would execute it unless the crime was confessed and the money restored. "Now you pray one minute," cried he, holding the instrument of death near the head of Tombleson, "and then down you go—Sacre Dieu! you must." The fellow, knowing well the disposition of his assailant, dropped on his knees over the pit, and feeling that his end had come, with trembling lips, amid his cries for mercy, confessed his guilt, and was relieved by the Frenchman, whom he led to the place where the money was deposited. Nearly the whole amount was restored to him, and then the culprit suddenly left for parts unknown.—Correspondence Rochester Union.