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my sweetheart! i him!" Y :DESPERATE 'RISKS Hobo I Ha.'de Faced Heath Hobo fled Lyons, My Husband, Was Shot and Many flarrobo Escape* of My Companions. CRIMIflALS TAKE; setting ot mortar and de our task three days had expected. ternoon George Jlason space which left only a i and plaster between us [ the vault. mifcb danger of the gap- dug under the wardrobe to admit of any further our arrangements tr rob ry night. of the town was going ed impatiently for it to for us to lay our lands hich I had every reason waiting below that 1 thin plaster. Luckily enough iman was at a christen- ening and was not likely e wee small hours. This cessity of my remaining midnight we turned out ghted our dark lanterns the window—the streets took a small sledge |ham- ne or two well dirpcted p the hole in the floor idmit his body. Th^n he a long rope unde;' his vered him down int > the i’s Narrow Esiape f my knowledge an 1 be- hich had been proi liked right on the shelv s of II George would ha e to stuff it into his pofkets ip the wayi he ha lirough Intent or il fr- ident’8 part, that mot everal minutes we v/ted ning to George as ttpum- vault by the light df his hen we heard him call in a I \ it as 1 was afraid At liotUd if the money is ldjcMd fip 1 safe. I’ll have to borne my tools.” m in big bank vaults to id separate steel safe to ash into. Leases, docu- >oks and sometimes bonds :ates are kept in the big y and things of special 1 locked up in the inside it. fflculty we hauled him his bag he selected the he would need and from out what seemed to me ous quantity of black id not use too much of tiled as he disappeared he hole. “Ned always ur worst failing." rry, Sophie." he Teplied; >od big dose to open this lutes we sat there listen ing to the rasping of his drills'against the door of the safe. Just as we felt the tug on the rope which was the signal to haul him up, we saw the flare of his lighted match and heard the sputter of i the fuse. We pulled on the rope for all we were worth but before George’s body was within two feet of the hole In the floor there came a blinding flash, followed by an explosion that shook the building. Although dazed by the shock and half blinded by the cloud of dust and poison ous fumes which poured up through the hole, we managed to keep our hold on the rope and haul our helpless comrade out of the death trap in which the prema ture explosion had caught him. "George!” I called as we lifted the rope from under his arms. But he never an swered and 1 thought it was only a corpse that we laid gently on the floor. His hair and eyebrows were completely burned off, his face and hands were as black as ’ coal and he was bleeding from an ugly wound in the head. We forgot the money we were after— we forgot the danger of being caught, in our anxiety for our wounded friend. One of the men brought water while I tried to force a drink of brandy down his throat. It seemed an age before he came to his senses, raised himself on one elbow and roughly pushed me aside. “It went off too quick for me,’’ he said; "but don’t be foolish—I’ll be all right in a minute. Look and see if the noise has roused the town.” I looked out there was not a soul in sight. The bank’s thick walls and the fact that it stood at some distance from any other building had evidently pre vented the explosion being heard outside. We Get the Bank’s Money Although suffering intense paiij, George insisted on giving back to get the money. It was no easy task, for the vault was full of suffocating smoke. There was no time to lose, as the watchman might re turn at any minute. After a few minutes we hauled him up for the third time. “That charge blew the safe door to splin ters, but here’s every dollar it contained,” he said, handing me several packages of bills. I counted the money and had hard work to conceal roy surprise when I found there was only $30,000. But, as Mason thought himself lucky to escape with his life and as the other two men 6eemed well satisfled with the amount, I Baid nothing. We started at once for Chicago, where a few days later we divided the spoils. As I had expected, the bank’s loss was placed by the newspapers at $200,000. A large reward was offered for the capture of the robbers. I was pleased to note that the president’s story of the amount taken and of the complete mystery in which the affair was shrouded seemed to be generally accepted. , After the excitement had died down the bank president came to Detroit to see me. Worry over the possibility of his crime being discovered had shattered his nerveq and he was such a poor broken specimen of an old man that I did not have the 1 heart to demand the additional $20,000 which he had promised us. As I tore up our agreement and handed him the pieces, he said: Facing a Lynching Moh “My criminal folly has ruined my peace of mind. Thanks to your help, I have saved my family from disgrace, but the worries and nervous strain of my defalca tion and the bank robbery have killed me. My doctors say I have heart disease, and have but a few months to live. I wish I had known two years ago what I have since learned—that crime does not pay.” The desperate risks every criminal has to run often come through no crime of his own but through his association with other criminals. Two of the most ex citing events in my varied career hap pened to me through my loyal effort to save the life of my friend, Tom Bigelow, a well-known bank sneak and burglar. It was in Mount Sterling, Kentucky, that all this happened. I was there on a perfectly legitimate errand and had no idea that any of my criminal friends were in the vicinity. There was a circus in town that day, and the long main street was crowded with sightseers. I had been watching the parade with the rest and was on my way back to the hotel for dinner when I heard Borne one call my name. Looking around in surprise I saw Johnny Meaney, a young bank sneak, whom I knew well, pressing his way through the crowd toward me. He was all out of breath and in the greatest agi tation. "Sophie," he whispered in my ear, "they’ve just caught Tom Bigelow with the bank’s money on him and they’re go ing, to lynch him.” There was no time to ask him more— before the last word was fairly out of his mouth he had disappeared in the crowd. As I afterward learned, Tom and Johnny had taken advantage of the excitement created by the circus parade to rob the Mount Sterling Bank. While the cashier was standing upon the counter to see the passing parade, Johnny had crawled In under his legs and taken a bundle of money out of the vault. He got safely out with his plunder and was just handing it to- Tom, who had been waiting in a buggy outside, when the cashier discovered his loss and raised a great outcry. Before Tom had time to stir out of his tracks a hundred willing hands In the crowd had made im a pris oner—then some one starti the cry> "Lynch the Yankee robber!” and some one else brought a rope. In the excitement nimble Johnny Meaney had managed to escape. As he dashed down the street he had chanced to catch sight of me and had passed me the word of our friend’s peril. Exciting Adventure with a Lynching Mob. entered the square I could see Tom’s familiar ning above the head* of the yelling mob which rd him. He was mounted on a soap box under ee, which stood in front of the court house. I never forget how he looked—pale a* a sheet, led with rope, his anne securely bound behind i was bareheaded, and they had removed his collar in order to adjust the noose which hung la neck. dered to think that unless I could devise some ction Tom Bigelow’s lifeless body would soon ■>g before my eyes. >ning every ou/>ce »f nyvous energy I pos sessed my way through the crAwd screaming man is t’t lyncl Don’t lynch him—oh, I climbed up on the box beside Tom. I threw my arms around his neck, although the feel of that ugly noose against my flesh made me shudder. I hugged Tom Bigelow, I kissed him, I wept over everything I could imagine a woman doing when the man she loves is about to be hanged before her eyes. ' If you hang him, you’ll have to hang me, too!” I screamed between my heartrending sobs. The crowd was amazed. Lynchings were no uncom mon occurrence in that region, but nothing like this had ever happened before. The cooler heads In the crowd began to have their say. “Take that noose off his neck and lock them both up,” some one shouted. The Sheriff put handcuffs on us and led us away. My ruse had succeeded-—Tom Bigelow's life was saved! The crowd was already hurrying in the direction of the square in the centre of the town where the court house stood and I followed as fast as my legs could carry me. As 1 entered the square l could see Tom’s familiar form looming above the heads of the yelling mob which surround ed him. He was mounted on a soap box under an oak tree which stood in front of the court house. I shall never forget how he looked— pale as a sheet, his feet tied with rope, his arms securely hound behind him. He was bareheaded and they had removed bis coat and collar in order to adjust the noose which hung around his neck. Quite plainly, if there was anything I could do to save my friend, it must be done quickly. The mob was loudly clam oring for his life. Already a young man was climbing up the tree in search of a convenient limb over which to throw the end of the rope. I shuddered to think that unless I could devise some plan of action, Tom Bigelow’s lifeless body -would soon be dangling be fore my eyes. Summoning every ounce of the nervous energy I possessed, I pressed my way through the crowd, screaming frantically: “That man is my sweetheart! Don’t lynch him—oh, please don’t lynch him!” My action took the crowd by surprise— they made a lane for me and pushed me along until Anally I stood right at Tom’s feet. How I Saved Tom’s Life 1 climbed up on the box beside Tom. 1 threw my arms around his neck, al though the feel of that ugly noose against my flesh made me shudder. “This man is innocent—he is my sweet heart,” I kept shouting. “You must let him go.” 'I hugged Tom Bigelow, I kissed him, I wept over him—I did everything I could imagine a woman doing when the man she loves is about to be hung before her eyes. “'If you hang him, you’ll have to hang me, too,” 1 screamed between my heart rending sobs. The crowd was amazed. Lynchings were no uncommon occurrence in that region, but nothing like this had ever happened before. , The cooler heads in the crowd began to have their say. "Take that noose off his neck and lock them both up,” some one shouted. The Sheriff put handcuffs on us and led us away.. My ruse had succeeded. Tom Bigelow’s life was saved! Tom and I were lodged in jail, indicted by the Grand Jury and held without bail for trial. Of course, I was Innocent of any share In the robbery, but as the authorities believed my story that I was Tom’s sweetheart, they thought I must know more about it than I admitted. It was while we were confined in the jail at Mount Sterling that I had an op portunity to see for myself how it feels to face a desperate lynching mob. That was one of the* most horrid nightmares I ever experienced. One of our fellow inmates in the jail was a man named Murphy logan, who was awaiting trial for the murder of his father. He was a sullen, weak-minded fellow, who had several killings to his discredit. The general opinion was that he 'belonged in an insane asylum. In another neighboring cell was a young man named Charlie Steele. He was exceedingly popular in the community. His worst fault was love of liquor and he was in jail for some minor offense which he had committed on one of his sprees. The other prisoners shunned I<o- gan on account of his disagreeable ways, but Steele good naturedly made quite a friend of him and they often played cards together. In this jail the prisoners were allowed the freedom of the long corridor on which the cells opened. One afternoon Tom Bigelow and I sat just outside my cell trying to devise some way to regain our liberty. Down at the other end of the corridor Charlie Steele and Murphy Lo gan were enjoying their usual game of cards. Suddenly we were startled by a piercing scream. I jumped to ray feet, and looked around to see poor Steele lying on the floor with the blood streaming from a long wound In his throat. Over him, glaring like the madman he was, stood Murphy Ixtgan, brandishing in one hand a heavy piece of tin which he had fash ioned into a crude sort of dagger. Forgetful of my own danger, I rushed up and .seized Logan's arm, just as he was about to plunge the weapon into Steele’s body again. He turned on me but I managed to keep him from wound ing me until Tom and some of the other prisoners came to my assistance. Steele lived only a few hours. The Sheriff placed the murderer in solitary confinement, and chained him to the floor of his cell. His ravings were something terrible to hear. He continually threat* ened vengeance on any of his fellow prisoners who would tell how he had slain his friend. After listening to these threats all night long we were in terror of our lives, and when the inquest was held next day not a single prisoner would admit that he had seen the kllllmr What Happened When We Robbed a Bank “By Request.” There was too much danger of the gaping hole we had dug under the wardrobe being discovered to admit of any further delay. We quickly completed our ar rangements to rob the bank that very night. Shortly after midnight we put out all the lamps and lighted our dark lanterns. I peered out of the window —the streets were deserted. George Mason took a small sledge hammer, and with one or two well directed blows opened up the hole in the floor wide enough to admit his body. Then he tied one end of a long rope under his arms and we lowered him down into the vault. For several minutes we waited breathlessly, listen ing to George as he fumbled around the vault by the light of his dark lantern. Then we heard him call In a hoarse whisper: "Sophie, it’s just as I was afraid it would be! Every cent of the money is locked up in the small steel safe. I’ll have to come up and get my tools.” It is the custom in big bank vaults to have a small and separate steel safe to put the actual cash into. Leases, documents, account books and sometimes bonds and stock certificates are kept in the big vault, but money and things of special value are usually locked up in the inside steel compartment With some difficulty we hauled him back up. From his bag he selected the drills he thought he would need and from a bottle poured out what seemed to me an extra generous quantity of powder. “Be careful and not use too much of that stuff,” I called as he disappeared again through the hole. “Ned always said that was your worst failing.” "Don’t you worry Sophie,” he replied; “it will take a good big dose to open this safe.” For several minutes we sat there listening to the rasping of his drills against the door of the safe. Just as we felt the quick tug on the rope, which was the sig nal to haul him up, we saw the flare of his lighted match and heard the sputter of the fuse. We pulled on the rope for all we were worth, but before George's body was within two feet of the hols in the floor there came a blinding flash, followed by an explosion that shook the building. Although dazed by the shock and half blinded by the cloud of dust and poisonous fumes which poured up through the hole, we managed to keep our hold on the rope and haul our helpless comrade out of the death trap in which the premature explosion had caught him. "George!” I called as we lifted the rope from under his arms But he never answered, and I thought it only a corpse that we laid gently on the floor. Hla hair and eyebrows were completely burned off, his face and hands were as black as coal and he was bleeding from an ugly wound In his head. "Didn’t you see this happen?” the Sheriff asked me. “No,” I lied, “I was in my cell at the time, and don’t know anything about how Steele came to his end.” “You lie!” shouted Logan, when he heard this. “If you hadn’t Interfered I would have cut him up worse than I did. I will make you suffer for sticking youf nose into my affairs." Thp town was In a fever of excitement, and from the windows of our cells we could see excited groups discussing the murder on every corner. Feeling ran particularly high, because the dead man had been so popular In the community while nobody liked Murphy Logan. Late that night Logan became so ex hausted with bis ravings that he fell asleep. I was just preparing to try to get some rest myself when I heard the tramp of heavy feet coming up the jail stairs. By the dim light of the one smoky kerosene lamp I saw a crowd of masked men trooping Into the corridor. The leaders carried heavy sledge hammers, and with these, having been unable to make the Sheriff give up his keys, they at tacked the Iron door of Logan’s cell. It quickly fell to pieces before their sturdy blows. Then they broke the mur derer’s shackles and dragged him. shriek ing curses with every breath, down the stairs and out into the street. They Itrune him nn * trop. rtaaipfl him with bullets, and left his body bang ing there in >the moonlight in full view of my cell window. This was too much for my overwrought nerves. I threw my self on my couch and wept. Tom Bige low did his best to console me, but 1 could not sleep—my head ached and I trembled 1n every limb. About an hour later I heard that ominous tramp of feet again! This time the masked men came straight to the door of my cell. “Is this where that woman Is?” a rough voice called. I cowered in a corner, too frightened to reply. They pounded the door down Just as they had Murphy Logan's. A man seized me by the arm, and pulled me out, none too gently. They were going to lynch me—I was convinced of that. With tears streaming down my cheeks I pleaded as I never had before, that I was Innocent of any. crime, and begge<| to be allowed tp go back home to my children. They took me downstairs into the Sheriff’s office, where sat a man who seemed to be the leader of the mob. “So vou tried to save Charlie Steele’s life, did you?” he said to me. Then for the first time it dawned on ms that perhaps I was not going to be hanged after all. I told the whole truth about what I had done when I saw Logan wav ing his dagger over his victim. When I had finished the leader said: “That’s all we want to know, young woman. We liked Charlie Steele, and we like you for what you tried to do for him. Now you’re free to get out of town—that's your reward for trying to save poor Charlie. We’ll see you safely to the depot” I was overjoyed. The leader handed me enough money for my . traveling expenses and permitted me to go up to Tom's cell and tell him of my good fortune. Before day broke I was on a train for Detroit. These are only a few of the desperate risks which my husband, my friends and I were constantly facing during the years when I was active in crime. If every business' man and merchant faced prison, bullets or a lynching as a necessary risk of trade, would anybody regard business life as attractive? The few incidents from my own expe riences recounted on this page give one more illuminative reason why I maintain that CRIME DOES NOT PAY! SOPHIE LYONS. Next Sunday Sophie Lyons Will Reveal the Secrets Behind the Scenee at a $3,000,000 Burglary—The Astonishing Details of the Robbery of the Manhattan Bank in New York, the Biggest Cracksmen’s JcL Ever Ac- AArinl|«hp^ A *