Mrs. Pitezel left the room and closed the door, instructing the children not to make any noise that would disturb her guest.
Finding himself alone Holmes betook himself to thinking upon a plan, to get Mrs. Pitezel's insurance money, that had the most acceptable features.
So unsuccessful was he in making a selection of the means that he became wearied and worn out at length. He dropped into a doze finally and half sleeping, half waking continued to figure upon the situation.
Suddenly he seemed to lose his surroundings. He was in a totally different place, with a totally different feat to accomplish.
He stood before a low-built brick building in a poor neighborhood. The day was Sunday. The sun shone upon the cobblestones of the deserted street so intensely that far into the distance on either hand it was possible to count them.
On a door step next to the house where he had halted two little children were playing. He scowled at their innocent amusement as though they had no right to be there. He noticed a woman looking out of a window on the opposite side of the street and hastily pulled his hat down over his eyes as if he feared she would recognize him.
Suddenly he took from his pocket a bunch of keys and inserted one of them in the door. It opened before him. He did not close the door immediately but stood and listened, with bated breath like a sneak thief that pauses on the threshold of the house he is about to rob.
He peered about the room with the closest scrutiny to detect, if possible, the presence of anything unusual, for he seemed to be familiar with the place. On one side of the room he was in, there stood a rough counter newly made. On the other side was a row of shelves containing various articles. Over these shelves was suspended a sign painted upon canvass, "B. F. Perry, patents bought and sold." Behind the counter was a row of pegs. Upon these pegs hung a hat, a coat and a pair of cuffs.
When his eyes perceived the articles last mentioned, Holmes drew a deep breath of satisfaction. He stepped inside the door and carefully closed it after him. Reaching into his hip pocket, he took out a small package that contained a bottle full of some peculiar liquid. He shook it to see if its contents were in good order. Then he softly tiptoed to a rear room and looked in. It was deserted. Nearby was a staircase that led into an upper story.
Cautiously, stealthily he ascended the stairs, pausing at each step to listen, hardly daring to breath. His lips were compressed, his hands were clinched, his teeth were set rigidly together and his eyes roved about as if calculating the effect of the next step. At length he reached the top of the flight. He turned to his left. Through two windows at the far end of the room he could see the houses on the opposite side of the street. The room itself was almost bare of furniture. A cot in one corner was empty, a fact that caused a shade of disappointment to cross his features.
He turned in the other direction and looked into a room on the right of the stairs - a rear room. There sitting in a chair with his head on his breast and sleeping soundly, was the man he wished to encounter - Ben Pitezel!
At the sight of his victim Holmes gave a nervous start and gasped for breath. He stood irresolute for a moment. Then he reached into a coat pocket and secured a large handkerchief. This he tied about his own nostrils. Next he took another handkerchief from another pocket, a large strong handkerchief. He spread it out carefully and then began soaking it with the contents of the bottle. He set the bottle upon the floor carefully and moved forward, like a sneak, so noiselessly was it accomplished.
At last he was within a few feet of the sleeping man. He gathered every nerve together and made a sudden lunge. The next instant the handkerchief was bound tightly about the head of the doomed man.
There was a momentary struggle, a sound as if the victim was endeavoring to cry out. But abruptly the struggling ceased. The abortive sounds from the throat were no longer heard. Pitezel was dead. For many minutes the murderer held his victim in a desperate grasp, fearing to let go. But at length, little by little he loosened the handkerchief about the head and slowly allowed the body to slip to the floor. Convincing himself that his victim was dead, Holmes stretched him out on the floor.
He was paler than the corpse before him and his breath came in jerks.
On a bench nearby stood a large glass jar. With a blow from a hammer Holmes broke this to make it appear as if it had been broken by an explosion. Then he seized' a painter's blowpipe that had stood next to the bottle and applied a match to it. With this he bent over the dead man and burned his features until they were almost beyond recognition. He also burned a portion of the left breast. These burns would help to show that the man had met his death from the effects of an explosion while experimenting with the contents of the glass jar. Thus the murderer reasoned. The task completed he retreated from the room backward. Some unseen influence held his gaze spellbound, so that he was unable to take his eyes away from the corpse.
On the threshold of the room he paused a moment, taking a last look at the hideous evidence of his infernal handiwork. Suddenly a nameless terror seized him. He turned and flew from the spot as though pursued by that awful object which lay stretched upon the floor. He descended the stairs with a mad rush and broke for the door that led to the street. He fumbled at the lock but his fingers seemed paralyzed. He fancied he could see that horrible thing moving leisurely down the stairs after him, as though it knew of his inability to get out. A man passed on the street and the fleeing murderer in his panic would have shrieked at him for assistance had not the door opened by his efforts as though by accident.
At this point the guilty wretch started west from where he was and looked about him with a white face and cowering eyes. A cold sweat covered him from head to foot and his teeth chattered with fright.
Some minutes passed before he realized that he had been dreaming and that he had merely gone over the horrible deed of that fatal Sunday in his sleep. Then he shrugged his shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief while the cunning smile, habitually worn upon his face reappeared in all its repulsiveness. The murderer once more felt secure.
Impoverished
Mrs. Pitezel who had heard Holmes moaning in his sleep concluded that he must be ill. She knocked on the door and waited for a reply. Receiving none she knocked again. The groaning had now ceased, but the kind-hearted woman felt that her guest needed attention. She knocked once more and this time received an answer.
"Come in."
Mrs. Pitezel opened the-door and entered.
"I thought you were feeling badly," she said. "Can I do anything for you?"
"Nothing at all, said Holmes. Was I making a noise?"
"You were moaning as if in pain."
"To tell you the truth," rejoined the murderer, "I am troubled with a bad tooth that annoys me whenever I go to sleep. The pain has all gone now, however. By the way, have you received a report as yet from Mr. Howe, the attorney ?"
"Yes," replied Mrs. Pitezel.
"He brought me a check for $7.200."
"Good!" exclaimed Holmes with satisfaction. "We need this money very badly."
"Who needs it?" asked Mrs. Pitezel quickly.
"Ben and I," retorted Holmes. "A note that we made jointly at Fort Worth, Texas, has fallen due and it must be paid."
Saying these words Holmes produced a piece of paper from a pocket book and handed it to Mrs. Pitezel. The note read thus:
$16,000. Fort Worth, Tex., May 16th, 1894.
On or before September 16th, 1894, I, we or either of us promise to pay to the order of B. B. Samuels, sixteen thousand Dollars, for value received, at the Fort Worth National Bank, with interest from date at the rate of ten per cent per annum and ten per cent of principle and interest for attorneys fees if placed in the hands of an attorney for collection.
Due September 16th, 1894. Benton F. Symon.
"Benton F. Symon - the name my husband assumed in Fort Worth, at your suggestion," cried Mrs. Pitezel.
"The same," replied Holmes. "You remember that we bought some real-estate which we s
till own jointly, both there and in Chicago. We borrowed this money from Mr. Samuels to help us along and we must now pay it back.
"Sixteen thousand Dollars!" cried Mrs. Pitezel in dismay.
"Oh, the whole amount need not be paid immediately," said Holmes assuredly. "Mr. Samuels will be satisfied with a part payment on account."
"Are you sure of it?" cried Mrs. Pitezel, falling into the trap.
"Leave the matter to me, Mrs. Pitezel," said the smooth schemer. "I am personally acquainted with Mr. Samuels and he will accept six or seven thousand Dollars on account. Endorse the check you received from Mr. Howe and give it to me."
Only too glad to help her husband pay his debts Mrs. Pitezel did as directed. A few moments later the check, all endorsed and ready for use was in the possession of Holmes. This was the means adopted to despoil the defenseless widow and her children of all that was left in the world to stand between them and starvation. It was not the first time that Holmes had made use of a bogus note to accomplish his purpose.
The Pitezel Children in the Net
Without the means to support her family, Mrs. Pitezel was now, more than ever at the mercy of the archfiend. A letter from Alice, bearing the post-mark, Covington, Kentucky, so cheerfully written as to indicate that she was perfectly happy gave Mrs. Pitezel additional confidence in Holmes. If he would place the other children in circumstances equally pleasant she would be glad, for their sakes, to give them up to him temporarily. She asked herself calmly, what reason Holmes could possibly have for harming these poor young ones. She could recognize none.
Thus it came about that Nellie and Howard left St. Louis with Holmes to join Alice. All that now remained to Mrs. Pitezel was Dessie and the baby, Wharton. At the suggestion of Holmes she concluded to go to the home of her parents at Galva, Illinois, where she could rest in comparative peace until it should be opportune for her to join her husband.
Poor woman! Little did she know that she would never again see her husband alive on earth. Little did she suspect that the three children in the charge of his destroyer were gone from her forever I
The monster Holmes left St. Louis with Nellie and Howard Pitezel on September 28th, 1894. His destination was Cincinnati. At Indianapolis the party met Alice Pitezel, whom Holmes had directed to go to that place for the purpose. Poor Alice had not seen any of her sisters or brothers since the trying experience in the Dead House on Potters Field. It can well be believed that she wept tears of joy at the sight of those loved ones from whom she had been parted at the moment of trial. That Holmes should look upon this affecting reunion and still plot the destruction of their innocent lives is an exhibition of heinousness almost too gross to be believed. Yet that is just what H. H. Holmes was doing while he sat with those poor children in the train that was bearing them to Cincinnati.
Arrived at their destination, the party proceeded to the Atlantic House, a cheap hotel, where Holmes registered as Alexander E. Cook and children. The fiend lost no time. On the next day he looked for a house where he could safely kill the little ones.
He found a three story brick building in the western part of the city that was vacant. Under the name of A. E. Hays he rented this house from a real-estate agent by the name of J. C. Thomas, whose office was at 13 E. Third Street. The exact location of this house is No. 305 Poplar Street.
After paying a month's rent in advance and securing a receipt Mr. "Hays" looked about for furniture. His first purchase was a most peculiar one. He bought a stove, a large sheet-iron circular affair such as is used in heating large halls and saloons.
What did Holmes intend doing with that stove? The weather was not cold. In fact the temperature was higher than usual for that season of the year. He need not have been in such haste to provide for the winter. Next door to No. 305 Poplar Street lived a lady who happened to be sweeping her steps at the time that Holmes drove up in an express wagon with his stove. The name of this lady was Miss Hill. The spectacle of a man moving a stove of such dimensions into a private dwelling made Miss Hill very curious and she watched the expressman carry it inside the house. The instant Holmes perceived that he was observed he began to scowl with disappointment. He had hoped to put the stove into the house without detection by the neighbors. He pictured them gathering together in knots discussing the new tenant of No. 305 and all wondering what on earth he intended doing with that mysterious stove. He came to the conclusion that he would delay the killing he had designed, for that huge stove was to be used as a furnace in which he could burn up the bodies of the children, after having taken their lives.
On the morning of September 30th, Miss Hill's doorbell was rung.
Answering it she found her caller to be Mr. "Hays". Clearing his throat the newcomer said:
"I have decided not to occupy this house next door. If you would care to have the stove which I put in you are welcome to it."
Mr. "Hays" then bowed and withdrew leaving Miss Hill staring after him in astonishment. Holmes had changed his mind. He concluded that he would move the children to another locality. He also conceived the plan of disposing of them separately. He realized that the disappearance of three children, even if they were strangers would hardly escape detection.
The Deed at Irvington
On October 1st, 1894, Holmes left Cincinnati with the three children. On the same day he arrived at Indianapolis and registered his little party at the Circle House. He did not himself put up at the same place. A new element enters the account of his doings at this point - his wife was now with him. Let us hasten to acknowledge the complete innocence and the pure character of this wife. Poor soul, she was as much deceived about Holmes as was the world at large. He had married her in January 1894, representing himself to be a rich man, descended from noble ancestors in Europe where a large inheritance awaited him. She knew nothing whatever of his nefarious schemes and did not even know his real name.
This estimable lady is entitled to the greatest sympathy, for the villain had succeeded in gaining her affections and she believed herself to be his only wife, whereas he had been married twice before. The heartless and inhuman creature had added bigamy to his other crimes. The name of the poor woman before her marriage to Holmes was Yokes. We will refer to her as Miss Yokes hereafter, though she plays no important part in this tale beyond the fact that she was constantly in Holmes society after this date and travelled with him from point to point with the Pitezel children - but totally unaware of their presence. Under the name of Mrs. Georgia Howard - Howard was the name that Holmes was married under - Holmes registered his wife at the Circle Park Hotel, within one hundred feet of the Circle House where he had quartered the children. She was almost within speaking distance of the three "Doomed Children" at the Circle House and was still in total ignorance of it!
On arriving at Indianapolis, Alice and Nellie wrote letters home to their mother, each of them giving the letters to Holmes to mail. He calmly read them and threw them aside. They were afterwards found in his possession. The innocent prattle of the doomed children in these letters is pathetic to contemplate in the light of subsequent circumstances.
Indianapolis, Ind., Oct., 1st, 1894.
Dear Mamma. - We were in Cincinnati yesterday and we got here last night, getting that telegram about Mr. Howe yesterday afternoon.
Mr. H. is going tonight for you and he will take this letter. We went-us three-over to the Zoological Garden in Cincinnati yesterday afternoon and we saw all the different kinds of animals. We saw the ostrich, which is about a head taller than I am so you know about how high it is. And the giraffe! You had to look up into the sky to see it. I like it lots better here than in Cincinnati.
There is a monument right in front of the hotel where we are at and I should judge it about three times the height of a five-story building. I guess I have told all the news so good-bye. Love to all and kisses.
Hope you are all well.
Your loving daughter,
Alice Pitezel.
Indianapolis, Ind., O
ct., 1st, 1894.
Dear Mamma, Baby and D. - We are all well here, Mr. H. is going on a late train tonight. He is not here now. I just saw him go by the hotel. He went some place, I don't know where. I think he went to get his ticket.
We are staying at a very nice hotel in Indianapolis. I like it lots better here than in Cincinnati. It is quite warm here but I have to wear a warm dress because my light ones are not ironed.
We have a room right in front of a monument. I think it is A. Lincoln's. Come as soon as you can because I want to see you and baby, too. Good-bye.
Your daughter,
Nellie Pitezel.
From these letters it will be seen that Holmes was endeavoring to quiet the children by telling them that their mother would soon be with them.
To the proprietor of the hotel, Mr. Ackelow, Holmes represented that the children belonged to his sister, a widow, and that he was their uncle. He also stated that Howard Pitezel was a very bad boy and that he was going to place him in some reform school and rid himself of the responsibility of looking after the lad. Poor little Howard! This remark to the hotel proprietor foreshadowed his doom. Holmes wanted to get rid of Howard! Not because he was bad or because he was troublesome to watch but because the harmless young one might know more than he should.
On October 5th, the house that was to be the little fellow's tomb was rented at Irvington, a suburb of Indianapolis. A few days afterward Holmes ordered Howard to pack his trunk and prepare to go away. In response to the anxious questions this course elicited, Holmes said impatiently that he was going to take Howard to see his father, adding that he would take the others in a few days, providing they were good.
But there must have been some misgiving in the little heart of Howard and his sisters when he parted from them the next day in the company of Holmes. The date of the lad's separation from his sisters was October 10th. They never saw or heard of him again.
Confessions of the Serial Killer H.H. Holmes (Illustrated) Page 23
