“Who is that?” countered Chief Stone.

“He is my husband,” was the reply.

Then came the confession which threw
the police forces of the Pacific Northwest
into a feverish activity for more than 24
hours.

“My name is Ruth Ida Romine,” the
comely young lady began, “and my husband
is John Roscoe Romine. My brother’s name
is Orville Everett Wood.”

“We have only been doing this sort of

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To say their stories were startling would
be a mild under-statement. “The Professor,”
as he can be called for the moment, was
their leader and he had gone one step above
a “Crime School”; he was the Dean and
organizer of a “Class College” for novice
forgers; he was the master mind behind a
six-year series of forgeries which stretched
from Chicago to Los Angeles, from Belling-
ham on the north to San Diego on the south;
he was a veritable “will-o’-the-wisp”.

BELLINGHAM BUILDERS SUPPLY

1328 Commercial—Telephone 77

BELLINGHAM WASH

© Pay TO THE

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FISST NATIONAL BANK BURLING”

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‘To THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK, |\~_
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59523 SIGMTEEN B@LL ALS

__JUN.4 7 1938

exactly with the same twist in the letter
that was on cheques filed in Seattle Police
Department for more than $15,000.
Although Bellingham had no recent record
of wanting “the chief,” Seattle was very
anxious to apprehend him.

Police wires hummed as Chief Stone and
Captain Borneman exchanged confidences.
Word came back that Seattle knew the
master mind.

His name? “Jimmy the Flea,” a magic

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A sample of “Jimmy the Flea’s” artistry. This cheque was cashed at the Smalley Drug Co. by Orville Wood with the

thing for a few months,” Mrs. Romine con-
tinued, recounting places through the west
coast they had “worked.” Chehalis, Cen-
tralia, Tacoma with Bellingham their fourth
stop.

The woman’s confession was interesting
to Inspector Blodgett, but also puzzling.

“You say you have only been working
a few months yet these cheques are the
work of an expert,” he said.

The girl raised her large brown eyes and
smiled slightly. “We worked under an
expert,” she said, “the best one in the busi-
ness.”

“Who was he?” Inspector Blodgett asked,
but the girl would say no more.

Her husband and brother were again
brought in and when the cold facts of the
splendid police investigation were laid be-
fore them, they suddenly found their
tongues. They also admitted complicity in
the dealings of the gang, but with what
seemed to be a tinge of fear, declined to
“squeal” on their leader.

Puget Sound Pulp &
Timber Co.

Bellingham, Washington

Mills at Anacortes and Bellingham

Manufacturers of High Grade
Unbleached Pulp

OCTOBER, 1938

Builders Supply located less than a block away.

His name? He had nearly a hundred
aliases. But his real identity seemed to be
locked in the mouths of the unfortunate
trio, in custody at Bellingham.

Superintendent George Stillman of the
Bureau of Identification entered the room,
and in his hand he held a tell-tale white card.
It showed that one, Ruth Wood, or Ruth
Romine, had been previously convicted
twice in California.

Inspector Blodgett turned to the young
woman. “You are facing a grave charge,”
he said, not unkindly, “would you like to
name the man responsible for you being
here?” :

But the girl was adamant. Of the trio’s
activities she was willing to talk, and talk
freely, but it remained for Seattle police to
trace down the elusive master mind.

In that thriving metropolis, through in-
formation passed on by Chief Stone, a hide-
out of the gang leader was discovered. It
fell to Captain Borneman and Lieutenant
Foy, cheque squad sleuths, to investigate.

In a modest dwelling on the north side,
where, it was rumored, the leader was liv-
ing, officers found exactly nothing.

Through the underworld grapevine, in
some mysterious manner, he had been tipped
off and had fled, leaving no visible trace.

Officers Borneman and Foy searched the
place for more than two hours without suc-
cess. Suddenly Borneman found an ad-
dressed envelope under a bureau drawer. It
bore an address in Portland.

The envelope was taken to Seattle head-
quarters.

Then the threads began to weave a per-
fect crime pattern around the “Professor”
of the crime college. For the man who
wrote that letter was the gang leader.

Just one letter, a capital “R” compared

nom de plume around police circles on the
Pacific Coast. The most wanted man in
the states of Washington and Oregon. A
man, polished, suave, but as dangerous as
a rattlesnake.

It became apparent now that the fact
that two inexperienced “con” men had made
a mistake had broken the largest case around
coastal waters in years.

Lieutenant Foy, wasting no time, chart-
ered an aeroplane and flew to Portland.

After such a thrilling career it should be
written that the capture of “Jimmy the
Flea” was a romantic saga of gun smoke.
Such was not the case. He was arrested by
Foy, offering no resistance.

Taken back to Seattle, and confronted by
his own writing on both envelope and
cheques, he shrugged his shoulders and
accepted his fate philosophically.

Then came another major surprise, when
his fingerprints showed him in his true
colors. His real name was Edmund Romine,
and his “students” were members of his
own family, including his brother and
sister-in-law. c

True to crookdom, with a record of crime
stretching back 36 years, he had only one
comment to make about his underlings.
“They were just amateurs,” he said
derisively, “no finesse at all.”

Best Wishes to Our Many Canadian Friends

WALT & CHARLIE’S

Cornwall Avenue, Opposite Leopold Hotel

o
Coon Fried Chickens and Steaks
fa}
Bellingham, Washington

Page Sixty-One