// fpn source school-src.txt for Knots Untied
// last edit: 23-Aug-2014

.dt The Project Gutenberg Book of Knots Untied: Or, Ways and By-ways in the Hidden Life of American Detectives, by George S. McWatters
.nr psi 1.1em // space twixt paragraphs if using indented paragraphs

.dm illo $1 $2 $3 $4
.il id=$1 fn=$2 w=$3
.ca $4
.dm-


.de .figcenter p {font-family:sans-serif;font-size:smaller;}
.de h2 {font-family:serif;font-weight:bold;}
.de h1 {font-family:serif;line-height: 1.5;}

.pi // indent paragraphs
.pn off
.pn link
//001.png

.if h
.il fn=cover.jpg w=500px alt="Book Cover"
.ca Transcriber's Note: The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
.pb
.if-


.il id=fpiece fn=i_fpiece.jpg w=478px
.ca
<i>Geo. S. M^cWatters</i>
Photographed by Brady.
.ca-

//002.png
.pb

.sp 4
.h1
<xl>KNOTS UNTIED:</xl>|<s>OR,</s>|<g>WAYS AND BY-WAYS</g>|<s>IN THE</s>|HIDDEN LIFE|<s>OF</s>|AMERICAN DETECTIVES.

.sp 3

.nf c
BY


<b><l><sc>Officer</sc> GEORGE S. McWATTERS,</l></b>

<s>LATE OF THE METROPOLITAN POLICE,</s>
<s>NEW YORK.</s>
.nf-

.il fn=line.jpg w=275px alt="----------"


.nf c
A NARRATIVE OF MARVELLOUS EXPERIENCES AMONG ALL CLASSES
OF SOCIETY,--CRIMINALS IN HIGH LIFE, SWINDLERS, BANK
ROBBERS, THIEVES, LOTTERY AGENTS, GAMBLERS,
NECROMANCERS, COUNTERFEITERS, BURGLARS,
<sc>Etc., Etc., Etc.</sc>
.nf-

.il fn=line.jpg w=275px alt="----------"
.sp 3
.nf c
<b><l>HARTFORD:</l></b>
<b><l>J. B. BURR AND HYDE.</l></b>
<b><l>1871.</l></b>
.nf-

//003.png


.pb



.nf c
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by

J. B. BURR AND HYDE,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
.nf-

.sp 8

.nf c
Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry,
No. 19 Spring Lane.
.nf-

.pb
//004.png


.pn iii

.sp 4
.h2 id=preface
PREFACE.
.hr 20%
.sp 2

I am aware that the preface of a book is usually the last portion
of it which is read--if read it is--and, therefore, of little import; and I
have, consequently, deliberated somewhat whether I would encumber
the following tales with a prefix or not, but perhaps it is due to the
reader to say (what, however, is apparent enough in some of the tales
themselves) that the experiences and observations therein narrated,
are not all personally mine; that some of <target id='tn004'>them have, at different times,
been detailed to me by old and tried personal friends, of deep knowledge
of the world, and of extreme sagacity, and that I have presented
them here, together with my own, in special instances, as being equally
illustrative with mine of subtle human nature.

What is specifically my own in these tales, and what little I am
indebted for to my good friends, I leave to such as may be curious, to
determine for themselves. It must now suffice them (for in the experiment
of "book-making" I have nearly lost my best patience--amidst
its multiplicity of perplexities; its "proof-reading," the awful blunders
of the printers, the "bungling" of the mails, the calls for "more copy"
at inopportune moments, etc., etc.)--it must suffice them, I repeat, simply
to know, that whatever experiences here recited are not my own, are
equally authentic with mine, and, in my judgment, add to the merits of
"Knots Untied" (if merits it has) rather than detract therefrom. So,
since it cannot be that the reader will peruse my book for my sake, but
for the book's sake and for his own, let him thank me for whatever
"clearer light" I have accepted from others for his benefit.

It was only at the instance--I might properly say by the repeated
importunity--of certain partial friends of mine, that I was first induced
to put into readable form some of the notes of my experiences and observations,
particularly those running through a period of a dozen years of
official life, preceded by a dozen more of a quasi-official character. I would
remark here, that no chronological order has been observed in the collation
of the tales composing "Knots Untied."

Having, from my early days, been interested with various sociological
problems, it has been my wont to fix in memoranda, of one form or
another, such data as I conceived worthy, as simple statistics or eccentric
facts, bearing upon the great general question of human suffering
//005.png
.pn +1
and crime, and their causes, and the means of their depiction, and final
extinction also (as I firmly believe) in "the good time coming," when
Science shall have ripened the paltry and distracted civilization of the
present into that enlightenment in which alone the race should be contented
to live,--in which only, in truth, they can be fully content with
existence,--and which the now subject classes could, if they were wise
enough to know their rights and their power, command in concert, for
themselves, and the ruling classes as well.

And these partial friends of mine have thought I might do some good,
and that I ought to, however little it may prove, to the cause of human
happiness,--in the intent thereby of enlarging the security of the innocent
from the machinations of the depraved,--by the detail of certain
wily "offences against the law and good order of society," while demonstrating
therein how sure of final discovery and punishment are the
criminally vicious, however crafty and subtle, in these days, when the
art of police detection has become almost an exact science.

Authors are sometimes sensitive (I believe), about the reception which
they, "by their works," may meet with at the hands of the public; and
not seldom do they, in more or less ingenious ways, attempt to cajole
their readers, through well-studied prefaces, into a prejudicedly favorable
mood regarding the body of their books. Perhaps mine is a singularly
good fortune, in that my partial and importuning friends before
alluded to, have given me consoling courage to "go forward" and publish
what they are so kind as to be pleased with, by the assurance that
they will take upon themselves, and patiently bear, all the severe criticism,
the curses, the wanton blows, etc., which may be aimed at me by
"hypercritical critics," or by vexed and wrathful readers; while I shall
be left to enjoy, unalloyed, all the "blessings" with which the rest of
the public may be pleased to favor me.

I regarded this as so excellent an expression of human[e] goodness
upon the part of these my friends, that I consented to honor it, by submission
to their will. Hence these tales, in their printed form,--designed
at first to beguile an hour for particular friends in the reading,
as the same had beguiled many long hours for me in the writing,--and
not primarily intended to be put into the form of a book. If any
good to the world accrues from their publication, through the instruction
which they may afford to some, perhaps; or by their possibly enlarging
the scope of the reader's charity for the erring, or in any way, I shall be
gratified; and so (it <i>is</i> but fair in me to add this, for they are human, and
sensitive to the joys which "a good done" brings)--and so, to repeat,
will also be my aforesaid partial, good friends.

.sp 1
.ll -4
.rj
<sc>George S. McWatters.</sc>
.ll +4

//006.png

.pb
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2 id=contents
CONTENTS.
.hr 20%
.sp 2

.rj
PAGE

.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
.fs 120%
PUBLISHERS' INTRODUCTION.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#18:intro#
.fs 100%

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.</b></l>

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>OFFICER GEORGE S. McWATTERS.</b></l>

.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
PERSONAL DESCRIPTION--ALWAYS TEMPERATE--IN WONDERFUL
PRESERVATION--"A GOOD FACE TO LOOK INTO"--NEITHER SCOTCH,
IRISH, NOR ENGLISH IN APPEARANCE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#21:officergeorge#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>WHERE HE WAS BORN AND REARED.</b></l>

.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
NO MATTER WHERE A MAN IS BORN--KILMARNOCK, SCOTLAND--NORTH
OF IRELAND--AMBITIOUS BOYHOOD--"THE BEAUTIFUL LAND BEYOND
THE WESTERN WATERS"--INTENSELY DEMOCRATIC--BECOMES
A MECHANIC.<target id='tn006'>
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#21:wherehe#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>REMOVES TO LONDON.</b></l>

.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
FOLLOWS HIS TRADE IN LONDON--MARRIES THERE--HIS INTERESTING
FAMILY--MISS CHARLOTTE, HIS ELDEST DAUGHTER--HER MARRIAGE--SIGNOR
ERRANI.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#23:removesto#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>MIGRATES TO THE UNITED STATES.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
OFFICER McWATTERS' GREAT SYMPATHY FOR CHATTEL AND WAGES-SLAVES--HIS
COUNTLESS DEEDS OF BENEVOLENCE LEAVE HIM NO
TIME TO GET RICH--ANECDOTE OF PROFESSOR AGASSIZ.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#24:migratesto#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>SETTLES IN PHILADELPHIA, AND STUDIES LAW.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A YEAR (1848-9) IN A LAW OFFICE--REVELS IN THE STUDY OF BLACKSTONE,
KENT, CHITTY, ETC.--A BEAUTIFUL DREAM.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#25:settlesin#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>A HEART TOO SOFT FOR A LAWYER.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE BEAUTIFUL DREAM OVERSHADOWED--POOR ORPHANS AND POOR
DEBTORS TOUCH HIS HEART WITH THEIR SUFFERINGS--DISTRAINING
GOODS FOR RENT--A TOUCHING STORY--McWATTERS' BENEVOLENT
DEVICE--HE QUITS THE LAW IN DISGUST.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#25:hearttoo#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>DEPARTS FOR CALIFORNIA.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE "GOLD FEVER"--IN THE NEW ELDORADO--THE RECKLESS WARFARE
OF GREED AND CRIME--MEN LOST THEIR CONSCIENCES THERE--RETURN.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#26:departsfor#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>BACK IN NEW YORK.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
ASSOCIATED WITH LAURA KEENE, AS HER AGENT--FIRST CALLED UPON
TO ENACT THE PART OF A DETECTIVE--HIS SUCCESS, AND WHAT IT
LED TO.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#27:backin#
//007.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>MR. McWATTERS AS AGENT AND LECTURER.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
BECOMES EXHIBITING LECTURER, ACCOMPANYING A GRAND PANORAMA--IN
THE CHIEF CITIES AND TOWNS--THE COUNTESS OF LANDSFELDT,
OR "LOLA MONTEZ."
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#28:mrmcwatters#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>ANECDOTE OF LOLA MONTEZ AND LAURA KEENE.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
AN AMUSING STORY--LOLA BECOMES PIOUS, AND SELLS HER THEATRICAL
WARDROBE--LAURA PURCHASES A PART--A SPLENDID SILK
DRESS PATTERN PROVES TO BE FURNITURE CLOTH--ATTACKS AND
RETORTS--THE GOODS FINALLY BURNED UP.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#28:anecdoteof#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>MR. McWATTERS SOLVING SOCIAL PROBLEMS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
HIS GREAT INTEREST IN SOCIOLOGICAL QUESTIONS--HOW SHALL THE
GRIEVOUS BURDENS WHICH FALL UPON THE LABORING CLASSES BE
MADE LIGHTER?
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#29:solvingsocial#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>OUR SUBJECT AND THE PUBLIC PRESS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
REMARKABLE RECORD--PUSILLANIMOUS HIGHWAYMEN--TWO KNIGHTS
OF THE ROAD FRIGHTENED BY A SPECTACLE-CASE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#30:oursubject#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>McWATTERS ENTERS THE METROPOLITAN POLICE FORCE.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF THEREIN IN MANY WAYS DURING A PERIOD OF
TWELVE YEARS--OFFICER MCWATTERS UBIQUITOUS--THE STARVING
PEOPLE OF KANSAS (1861) ELICIT HIS SYMPATHIES--A FORCIBLE
PUBLIC SPEAKER.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#33:entersmetropolitan#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>PERSONAL INCIDENTS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
RESCUES CHILDREN AND MEN FROM WATERY GRAVES--ALWAYS AT HIS
POST OF DUTY--RECEIVES THE WARMEST PRAISE OF HIS CHIEF OFFICER,
SUPERINTENDENT KENNEDY--THE LATE SUPERINTENDENT
JOURDAN.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#34:personalincidents#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>OFFICER McWATTERS DURING THE LATE CIVIL WAR.</b></l>

.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
HIS FORESIGHT--UNDERSTOOD THE MISERIES OF THE SUBJECT-CLASSES--HIS
APPRECIATION OF REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS--PREVENTED
BY UNTOWARD CIRCUMSTANCES FROM GOING TO THE FRONT--NOT OF
THE "NOBLE HOME GUARD."
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#36:civilwar#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>FIRST SEIZURE OF GUNS AT THE NORTH.</b></l>

.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
OFFICER MCWATTERS INTERCEPTS DAHLGREN GUNS ON THEIR WAY TO
THE REBELS, MAY 11, 1861--HONORABLE MENTION BY THE NEW YORK
TRIBUNE--FERNANDO WOOD'S INFAMOUS APOLOGY TO TOOMBS--WOOD
AND MCWATTERS COMPARED--THE GRATITUDE OF REPUBLICS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#37:firstseizure#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>OFFICER McWATTERS' SERVICES THROUGH THE PUBLIC PRESS.</b></l>

.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
ABLE AND SPIRITED LETTERS TO THE PRESS--NOBLE WORDS ADDRESSED
TO THE WORKINGMEN OF THE NATION.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#38:servicesthrough#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>KINDLY AND WISE PROVIDENCE.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
PRIVATE APPEAL FOR LEMONS FOR THE FAMISHING SOLDIERS, MAY, 1863--IT
DID A BRAVE WORK--EVENTUALLY INSPECTOR CARPENTER REVEALS
THAT IT WAS ONE OF OFFICER MCWATTERS' BENEVOLENT
DEEDS--OTHER EFFECTIVE MODES OF AIDING SICK AND WOUNDED
SOLDIERS AND THEIR FAMILIES.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#39:kindlyand#
//008.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.nf c
<l><b>"RIOT WEEK," JULY, 1863.--OFFICER McWATTERS IN THE
THICK OF THE FIGHT.</b></l>
.nf-
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE STATE OF THE PUBLIC PULSE OF THE NORTH WHEN THE RIOT BROKE
OUT--THE NUMBER KILLED THAT WEEK IN NEW YORK ESTIMATED AT
OVER FOURTEEN HUNDRED!--McWATTERS AND HIS FELLOW-OFFICERS
FIGHT THEIR WAY THROUGH THE MOB INTO THE TRIBUNE
OFFICE--McWATTERS FELLED TO THE GROUND; SPRINGS TO HIS
FEET, AND DEALS DESTRUCTIVE BLOWS UPON HIS ASSAILANTS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#40:riotweek#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>OFFICER McWATTERS AND HIS LITERARY ASSOCIATES.</b></l>
.sp 1
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
COUNTLESS CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE PUBLIC PRESS--HIS UNPRETENTIOUS
CAREER--"PFAFF'S," A FAMOUS RESORT FOR AUTHORS AND
ARTISTS--AN INTERESTING SKETCH OF THE PLACE, AND THE HOST OF
McWATTERS' AUTHOR FRIENDS WHO MEET THERE; AN ILLUSTRIOUS
ARRAY--OF THE DEAD OF THIS GOODLY HOST--A MOST INTERESTING
RETROSPECTION--McWATTERS' AUTHORS' LIBRARY.
.ll +4
.in -4
.rj
#42:literary#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>OFFICER McWATTERS AS THE GOOD SAMARITAN.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
AS A PHILANTHROPIST OFFICER McWATTERS HAS MOST DISTINGUISHED
HIMSELF--HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH SOCIOLOGICAL SCIENCES DEMONSTRATES
TO HIM THE FOLLY OF FRAGMENTARY REFORMS; YET HE
CONTINUES HIS WONDERFUL INDIVIDUAL CHARITIES--PATCHWORK
CHARITY--HIS VITALITY OF BENEVOLENCE--McWATTERS IN THE
RANKS OF THE HOWARDS OF THE WORLD.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#45:goodsamaritan#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>McWATTERS AND THE SOLDIERS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE POOR VETERAN SOLDIER'S BEST FRIEND--McWATTERS' GENEROUS
ENTHUSIASM IN BEHALF OF THE POOR SOLDIERS AND THEIR FAMILIES--HIS
GREAT PASSION--THE POETRY OF HIS CURRENT LIFE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#49:soldiers#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>LADIES UNION RELIEF ASSOCIATION.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A GRAND CHARITABLE ORGANIZATION--DISTINGUISHED LADIES OF NEW
YORK AT ITS HEAD--ITS SCOPE OF SELF-IMPOSED DUTIES OF BENEVOLENCE--ASSISTED
BY AN ADVISORY BOARD OF THE LEADING MEN
OF THE CITY; OFFICER McWATTERS THE CHIEF AND MOST ACTIVE
MAN THEREOF--SUPERINTENDENT KENNEDY SECONDS OFFICER McWATTERS'
BENEVOLENT WORK--REV. DR. BELLOWS' WARM INDORSEMENT
OF McWATTERS' GOOD DEEDS--THE LATE SUPERINTENDENT
JOURDAN CRUELLY INTERFERES WITH McWATTERS' LABORS OF LOVE--DEATH
CALLS FOR MR. JOURDAN: WHERE THEY PUT HIM, AND
WHO FOLLOWED HIS HEARSE--OFFICER McWATTERS RESIGNS, AND
LEAVES THE POLICE FORCE, IN ORDER THAT HE MAY CONTINUE HIS
HUMANITARY WORK--COPY OF HIS LETTER OF RESIGNATION--APPOINTED
TO A POST IN THE CUSTOM HOUSE--COMPLIMENTARY NOTICES
BY VARIOUS JOURNALS ON THE OCCASION OF McWATTERS' RESIGNATION.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#50:ladiesunion#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>THE SWINDLING BOUNTY CLAIM AGENTS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
OFFICER McWATTERS' RELENTLESS OPPOSITION TO THE SWINDLERS--THEIR
INFAMOUS MODES OF OPERATION EXPLAINED--McWATTERS'
PLAN OF WARFARE--HE ROUTS THEIR FORCES AND WINS A GREAT
VICTORY--SERIOUSLY THREATENED BY THE SWINDLERS--McWATTERS
APPEALS TO CONGRESS, AND GETS A NEW ACT PASSED--CHIEF
MEMBERS OF CONGRESS WHO GAVE HIM THEIR AID--PAYMENTS
UNDER THE NEW LAW--THE GRATITUDE OF THE POOR SOLDIERS
AND THEIR FAMILIES--"HOW A POOR MAN FEELS!"--THE NATIONAL
CEMETERIES AND THE DEAD VETERANS--McWATTERS' FURTHER
WORK FOR THE SOLDIERS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#55:swindlingbounty#

//009.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>HONORABLE TESTIMONIALS TO OFFICER McWATTERS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
PRESENTATION OF A GOLD WATCH BY THE LADIES' UNION RELIEF ASSOCIATION--COMMENTS
THEREON BY THE PUBLIC PRESS--OFFICER McWATTERS'
GREAT POPULARITY--A RESUMÉ OF SOME OF OFFICER
McWATTERS' GOOD DEEDS, BY THE SUN, TIMES, TRIBUNE, ETC.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#62:honorabletest#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>THE BELLEVUE HOSPITAL INIQUITY.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE RASCALITY EXPOSED IN A MASTERLY WAY--THE HORRORS OF THE
HOSPITAL PICTURED--THE WAR CARRIED ON THROUGH THE PAPERS--OFFICER
McWATTERS DIRECTS THE BATTLE--THE SCAMPS BROUGHT
TO TERMS, AND THE SICK POOR AT THE HOSPITAL NO LONGER TREATED
LIKE DOGS--THE CITIZENS' ASSOCIATION, AND ITS CONNECTION
WITH THE FIGHT--BENEFICENT RESULTS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#65:bellevue#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>CONCLUSION.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
OFFICER McWATTERS IN HIS CONTINUING LABORS OF LOVE--HIS FAMOUS
LETTER IN BEHALF OF THE POOR VETERAN SOLDIER ORGAN
GRINDERS--ELOQUENT WORDS OF SOCIAL STATESMANSHIP THEREIN--A
GREAT MORAL DUTY--WHEN IT CAN BE PROPERLY DONE--LABOR
MUST BE PROTECTED--PARTING TRIBUTE TO OFFICER GEORGE
S. McWATTERS, THE TRUE MAN, THE STERLING PATRIOT, AND PRACTICAL
PHILANTHROPIST.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#68:conclusion#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE ORGAN GRINDERS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A WORD IN THEIR BEHALF--LETTER FROM OFFICER McWATTERS (REFERRED
TO IN BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES)--A SAD STORY.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#72:organgrinders#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>TEN DOLLARS A MONTH: A STORY OF GRIEF AND JOY.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
.nf c
("Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn")
.nf-
.sp 1
McWATTERS--PATRICK O'BRIEN AND HIS SUFFERING FAMILY--LADIES'
UNION RELIEF ASSOCIATION--A STORM OF GRIEF QUELLED BY THE
VOICE OF TRUE CHARITY.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#74:tendollars#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>MACK AND THE VETERAN.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A TOUCHING TALE--THE POETRY AND PATHOS OF BARE FEET.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#80:touchingtale#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>LOST IN THE STREETS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
OPERATIONS OF THE BUREAU FOR THE RECOVERY OF LOST PERSONS--MISSING
MEN AND WOMEN--TROUBLES ABOUT LOST PEOPLE--WHERE
AND HOW PEOPLE ARE LOST--LOST CHILDREN--THE DENS
OF MIDNIGHT--THE HORROR OF A BREAKING DAWN--MISERY,
SHAME, AND DEATH--FINIS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#89:lostin#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>AMONG THE SHARKS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
ADVENTURES OF A FALL RIVER WANDERER--HIS VALUABLE EXPERIENCE
IN NEW YORK--CATCHING A FLAT.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#97:amongthe#


.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>A SMART YOUNG MAN.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
AN AFTER-DINNER COLLOQUY, AND ITS RESULT--A FUNNY AFFAIR.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#104:smartyoung#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>A SUSPECTED CALIFORNIA MURDERER.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
ARRESTED--CHARGED WITH KILLING FOUR MEN: A GERMAN FOR HIS
MONEY, AND TWO SHERIFFS AND A DRIVER WHO WERE CONVEYING
HIM TO PRISON.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#107:suspectedcal#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>EXTENSIVE COUNTERFEITING.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
SEIZURE OF FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS IN SPURIOUS POSTAL CURRENCY--ARREST
OF THE COUNTERFEITER--HIS CONFESSION.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#108:extensivecounterfeiting#
//010.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE GAMBLER'S WAX FINGER.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
CHARLES LEGATE--A FORGER--STUDYING HIM UP--FIFTY THOUSAND
DOLLARS HIS "PRIZE"--DESCRIPTION OF LEGATE--NO TWO
PERSONS EVER AGREE IN DESCRIBING ANOTHER--A MARK HIT UPON--START
FOR ST. LOUIS--MUSINGS--CURIOUS INCIDENTS OF MY
JOURNEY--A GENEALOGICAL "DODGE"--ON LEGATE'S TRACK AT
LAST--ST. LOUIS REACHED--OF MY STAY THERE--LEAVE FOR NEW
ORLEANS PER STEAMER--A GENIAL CROWD OF MEN AND WOMEN ON
BOARD--CHARACTERISTICS OF A MISSISSIPPI "VOYAGE"--NAPOLEON,
ARKANSAS--SOME CHARACTERS COME ON BOARD THERE--A
GAMBLING SCENE ON BOARD--ONE JACOBS TAKES A PART--A PRIVATE
CONFERENCE WITH JACOBS'S NEGRO SERVANT--A TERRIFIC
FIGHT ON BOARD AMONG THE GAMBLERS--JACOBS SET UPON, AND
MAKES A BRAVE DEFENCE--HOW I DISCOVERED "JACOBS" TO BE
PROBABLY LEGATE, IN THE MELEE--HE IS BADLY BRUISED--HIS LIFE
DESPAIRED OF--WE ARRIVE IN NEW ORLEANS--JACOBS'S IDENTIFICATION
AS LEGATE--LEGATE PROVES TO BE VERY RICH--CURIOUS
VISIT TO AN ITALIAN ARTIST'S STUDIO--A NOVEL MEDICINE ADMINISTERED
TO SIGNORE CANCEMI--HE GETS WELL AT ONCE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#113:gamblerswax#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>LOTTERY TICKET, No. 1710.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A DIGNIFIED REAL ESTATE HOLDER, VERY WEALTHY, LOSES SEVEN THOUSAND
TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FIVE DOLLARS--OUR FIRST COUNCIL
AT THE HOWARD HOUSE--VISIT TO HIS HOUSE TO EXAMINE HIS
SAFE AND SERVANTS--A LOTTERY TICKET, NO. 1710, FOUND IN THE
SAFE--HOW CAME THIS MYSTERIOUS PAPER THERE?--CONCLUSIONS
THEREON--VISIT TO BALTIMORE, AND PLANS LAID IN CONJUNCTION
WITH THE LOTTERY AGENT TO CATCH THE THIEF--THE TICKET
"DRAWS"--THE NEW YORK AGENCY "MANAGED"--TRAP TO IDENTIFY
THE THIEF--THE SECURITY AND "SOLITUDE" OF A GREAT CITY--A
NEW YORK BANKER--MR. LATIMER VISITS A GAMBLING HOUSE
IN DISGUISE--IDENTIFIES THE SUSPECTED YOUNG MAN--THE AGENT
AT BALTIMORE WAXES GLEEFUL--HIS PLAN OF OPERATIONS OVERRULED--MEETING
OF "INTERESTED PARTIES" AT THE OFFICE IN
BALTIMORE--A LITTLE GAME PLAYED UPON THE NEW YORK AGENT--MR.
WORDEN, THE THIEF, IDENTIFIES THE TICKET, AND FALLS INTO
THE TRAP OF A PRE-ARRANGED "DRAFT"--DISCLOSES SOME OF
THE IDENTICAL MONEY STOLEN--WE ARREST HIM--EXCITING
SCRAMBLE--THE MONEY RECOVERED--WORDEN'S AFTER LIFE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#131:lotteryticket#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>PAYNE AND THE COUNTERFEITERS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
AN IDLE TIME--A CALL FROM MY OLD "CHIEF"--THE CASE IN HAND
OUTLINED--I DISCOVER AN OLD ENEMY IN THE LIST OF COUNTERFEITERS,
AND LAY MY PLANS--TAKE BOARD IN NINETEENTH STREET,
AND OPEN A LAW OFFICE IN JAUNCEY COURT--MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE
OF MRS. PAYNE, LEWELLYN'S MOTHER, AND FINALLY GET ACQUAINTED
WITH HIM--HE VISITS MY LAW OFFICE--I AM INGRATIATED
IN HIS FAVOR--I TRACK HIM INTO MY ENEMY'S COMPANY, AND
FEEL SURE OF SUCCESS--LEWELLYN FINALLY CONFESSES TO ME HIS
TERRIBLE SITUATION--CERTAIN PLANS LAID--I MAKE "COLLINS'S"
ACQUAINTANCE--VISIT A GAMBLING SALOON WITH HIM--A HEAVY
WAGER--$15,000 AT HAZARD, PAYNE'S ALL--THE COUNTERFEITING
GAMBLERS CAUGHT TOGETHER--SEVERE STRUGGLE--PAYNE SAVED
//011.png
.pn +1
AT LAST, AND HIS MONEY TOO--A REFORMED SON AND A HAPPY
MOTHER--TWO "BIRDS" SENT TO THE PENITENTIARY.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#153:payneand#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE GENEALOGICAL SWINDLERS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
PRIDE OF ANCESTRY IN THE UNITED STATES--IT IS SOMETIMES MORE
PROFITABLE TO OTHERS THAN TO THOSE WHO INDULGE IT--"PROPERTY
IN CHANCERY"--A WESTERN MERCHANT, HIS STORY,
AND HOW HE TOLD IT--A FAMILY MEETING AT NEW HAVEN, AND
WHAT A MEMBER LEARNED THERE--THE GREAT "LORD, KING,
& GRAHAM" SWINDLE--THE WAY IN WHICH THE FRAUD WAS
ACCOMPLISHED--A CUNNING LETTER FROM "WILLIS KING," OF THE
FIRM OF LORD, KING, & <target id='tn011'>GRAHAM, TO ONE OF HIS RELATIVES--THE
CORRESPONDENCE OF THIS NOTED FIRM--THE SEARCH--THE TRAP
LAID--THE SHARPERS CAUGHT, AND FOUND TO BE EDUCATED
YOUNG MEN OF THE HIGHEST SOCIAL STATUS--THEY ARE MADE TO
DISGORGE--A PARADOX, WITH A MORAL IN IT.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#176:genealogical#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>HATTIE NEWBERRY, THE VERMONT BEAUTY.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
"SOCIETY, FOR THE MOST PART, CREATES THE CRIMES WHICH IT
PUNISHES"--A BEAUTIFUL GIRL ON THE CARS FROM RUTLAND, VERMONT,
ON THE WAY TO BELLOWS' FALLS, BESET BY NEW YORK
ROGUES--A DETECTIVE RECOGNIZES IN HER THE FORMER PLAYMATE
OF HIS OWN DAUGHTER--HE ENCOUNTERS THE ROGUES AT BELLOWS'
FALLS, AND KNOCKS ONE OF THEM DOWN IN THE LADIES' ROOM--THEY
ALL TAKE THE NEXT TRAIN, AND MOVE SOUTHWARD, ON THEIR
WAY TO NEW YORK--INCIDENTS OF THE JOURNEY--A THIRD VILLAIN
GETS ABOARD AT HARTFORD, CONN.--WHY HATTIE WAS GOING
TO NEW YORK--AN OLD TALE--THE DETECTIVE GIVES HATTIE
MUCH GOOD ADVICE--A SKILFUL MAN[OE]UVRE, ON ARRIVING IN NEW
YORK, TO PUT THE ROGUES OFF THE TRACK--A PAINFUL DISCOVERY
AT LAST--A DEEP, DEVILISH PLOT OF THE VILLAINS DRIVES HATTIE
TO DESPAIR, AND SHE IS RESCUED FROM A SUICIDE'S GRAVE--THE
ROGUES PROVE TO BE THE MOST HEARTLESS OF VILLAINS, AND ARE
CAUGHT, AND DULY PUNISHED--HATTIE RETURNS EVENTUALLY TO
VERMONT, AFTER HAVING MARRIED HER OLD LOVER--THIS TALE IS
ONE OF THE SADDEST, AS WELL AS THE MOST INTERESTING OF EXPERIENCES,
THROUGHOUT.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#192:hattie#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>ABOUT BOGUS LOTTERIES.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
HOW THEY ARE "GOT UP"--THEIR MODE OF OPERATIONS DETAILED--HOW
THEY MANAGE THE "DRAWN NUMBERS" BEFOREHAND--THE
GREAT SHREWDNESS OF THE OPERATORS--THE SOCIAL RESPECTABILITY
OF THESE--THE GREAT FIRM OF "G. W. HUNTINGTON & CO."--THE
IMMENSE CIRCULATION OF THEIR JOURNAL.--THEIR VICTIM,
A MAINE FARMER, WHO BELIEVED HE HAD "DRAWN" FIVE THOUSAND
DOLLARS, AND COUNSELLOR WHEATON, HIS LAWYER, A STORY
TO THE POINT--WHO INVEST IN LOTTERIES? CHILDREN, WIDOWS,
CLERGYMEN, BANK CASHIERS, ETC.--HOW THE FIRM OF "G. W. H.
& CO." WAS CAPTURED--NO. 23 WILLIAMS STREET, NEW YORK--THEIR
PRETENDED BANKING HOUSE--HOW A BOGUS LOTTERY COMPANY
SWINDLED ITS OWN AGENTS--A QUEER TALE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#225:aboutbogus#
//012.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE BORROWED DIAMOND RING.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE DETECTIVE OFFICER'S CHIEF "INCUBUS"--AT WINTER GARDEN
THEATRE--"HARRY DUBOIS"--AN EXPERT ROGUE EXAMINES HIS
PROSPECTIVE VICTIMS--SOME SOUTHERNERS--HARRY "INTRODUCES"
HIMSELF IN HIS OWN PECULIAR AND ADROIT WAY--HARRY
AND HIS FRIEND ARE INVITED TO THE SOUTHERNER'S PRIVATE BOX--HARRY
"BORROWS" MR. CLEMENS' DIAMOND RING, AND ADROITLY
ESCAPES--MY DILEMMA--VISIT TO HARRY'S OLD BOARDING MISTRESS--HIS
WHEREABOUTS DISCOVERED--ACTIVE WORK--A RAPID
DRIVE TO PINE STREET--A FORTUNATE LIGHT IN THE OFFICE OF
THE LATE HON. SIMEON DRAPER--A SUDDEN VISIT FOR A "SICK
MAN" TO HARRY'S ROOM--HOW ENTRANCE WAS EFFECTED--THE
RING SECURED--HUNT FOR MR. CLEMENS--A SLIGHTLY MYSTERIOUS
LETTER--A HAPPY INTERVIEW.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#257:borroweddiamond#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE MYSTERY AT 89 ---- STREET, NEW YORK.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
"KLEPTOMANIA"--THE TENDENCY TO SUPERSTITION--AN OLD KNICKERBOCKER
FAMILY--A VERY "PROPER" OLD GENTLEMAN, A MR.
GARRETSON--HE CALLS ON ME AT MY OFFICE, AND FINDS A CURIOUS-LOOKING
ROOM--HIS STORY OF WONDERS--"EVERYTHING" STOLEN--TALK
ABOUT DISEMBODIED SPIRITS--THE MYSTERY DEEPENS--PROBABLE
CONJECTURE BAFFLED--VISIT TO MR. GARRETSON'S HOUSE--MRS.
GARRETSON A BEAUTIFUL AND CULTIVATED OLD LADY--WE
SEARCH THE HOUSE--AN ATTIC FULL OF OLD SOUVENIRS--WE LINGER
AMONG THEM--MR. GARRETSON'S DAUGHTER IS CONVINCED
THAT DISEMBODIED SPIRITS ARE THEIR TORMENTORS--SHE PUTS AN
UNANSWERABLE QUESTION--A DANGEROUS DOG AND THE SPIRITS--TEDIOUS
AND UNAVAILING WATCHING FOR SEVERAL DAYS AND NIGHTS--THE
"SPIRITS" AGAIN AT WORK--RE-CALLED--THE MYSTERY
GROWS MORE WONDERFUL--THE "SPIRIT" DISCOVERED, AND THE
MYSTERY UNRAVELLED--THE FAMILY SENT AWAY--THE ATTIC RE-VISITED
WITH MR. G., AND ITS TREASURES REVEALED--A RE-DISCOVERY
OF THE "SPIRITS"--THE FAMILY REVIEW THEIR LONG-LOST
TREASURES FOUND--REFLECTIONS ON THE CAUSES OF THE MYSTERY--A
PROBLEM FOR THE DOCTORS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#273:mysteryat#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>A SORCERESS' TRICK; HOW SHE WAS CAUGHT.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
CLASSIFICATION OF MEN--THE SUPERSTITIOUS ELEMENT IN MAN--THE
OLD CULTS CONTINUED IN THE NEW--FIRE WORSHIP--THE
SORCERERS--MY LEGAL FRIEND'S STORY A LAUGHABLE ONE INDEED--THE
DESPONDENT OLD MAID, THOUGH ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED--AN
AUNT ARRIVES IN "THE NICK OF TIME"--THEY HUNT UP A FORTUNE-TELLER--MRS.
SEYMOUR, THE SORCERESS, AND HER PRETTY
LITTLE "ORATORY"--THE "PRIE-DIEU"--THE OLD MAID MARRIES--MRS.
SEYMOUR'S PLAN FOR INSURING THE AFFECTION OF HUSBANDS--HER
POWERS AS A CHARMER--THE SACRED BOX AND ITS FIVE
THOUSAND DOLLARS CONTENTS--MRS. SEYMOUR IS LOST SIGHT OF--SEARCH
FOR HER IN BROOKLYN AND AT BOSTON--THE CHARMED
BOX OPENED BY MR. AND MRS. ----, AND THE CONTENTS FOUND TO
HAVE CHANGED FORM MATERIALLY--MY LEGAL FRIEND AND I LOOK
AFTER MATTERS--A PORTION OF THE TRANSFORMED VALUABLES
FOUND--A MRS. BRADLEY, A "MEDIUM" IN BOSTON, PROVES TO BE
THE IDENTICAL MRS. SEYMOUR--THE HIGH-TONED DEVOTEES OF
//013.png
.pn +1
BOSTON--SUDDEN PROCEEDINGS TAKEN--MRS. SEYMOUR AND HER
HUSBAND COME TO TERMS--RESULTS--RESPECTABLE VICTIMS OF
THE SORCERERS NUMEROUS--DUPES IN THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA."
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#309:sorceress#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>DISHONEST CLERK AND FATAL SLIP OF PAPER.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
IN AN UGLY MOOD WITH MYSELF--A VISIT FROM A CINCINNATIAN--A
LOSS DETAILED--THE FATE OF A BANKING HOUSE RESTING ON
"COLLATERALS" STOLEN, WHICH MUST BE RECOVERED--A LAWYER
FIGURES IN THE MATTER AND IS BAFFLED--THE THIEVES SPECULATING
FOR A SETTLEMENT--THE SCHEME LAID FOR THEIR DETECTION--A
BUSINESS VISIT TO THE BANKING-HOUSE--THE CHIEF CLERK
SENT TO CHICAGO ON BUSINESS--A SEARCH REVEALING LOVE LETTERS
AND A LOVELY LITERARY LADY--ON TRACK OF MYSTERIOUS
"PAPERS"--THE FATAL SLIP OF PAPER--THE WAY THE STOLEN
BONDS WERE RECOVERED--THE CHIEF CLERK, AND HOW HE WAS
"ENLIGHTENED"--A NOVEL AND QUIET ARREST IN A CARRIAGE--THE
CLERK'S CONFEDERATE CAUGHT--THE PROPERTY RESTORED--THE
SCAMPS DECAMP--THE INNOCENT LITERARY LADY'S EYES
OPENED.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#322:dishonestclerk#

.sp 2

.ce
<l><b>THE THOUSAND DOLLAR LESSON.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
CHARLES PURVIS: TAKING HIM IN CHARGE AT A DISTANCE--HANGERS
ON AT THE ST. NICHOLAS AND OTHER HOTEL ENTRANCES--A COLLOQUY,
SPICED WITH REMINISCENCES OF "OLD SAM COLT," OF THE
"REVOLVER," IN HIS GAY DAYS; A PARTY AT THE "OLD CITY HOTEL,"
HARTFORD, CONN., AND OTHER THINGS--TRINITY COLLEGE BOYS--"GEORGE
ELLSWORTH"--PURVIS AND HE START ON A WALK--"WHERE
CAN THEY BE GOING?"--GOING TO SEE ELLSWORTH'S
"FRIEND"--AN EXCHANGE OF COATS--A SURVEY TAKEN--A FIRST-CLASS
GAMBLING SALOON--A NEW MAN IN THE GAME--PURVIS
DRUGGED--HIS "FRIENDS" TAKE HIM "HOME," BUT WHERE?--PURVIS
IS RETURNED TO HIS HOTEL IN A STATE OF STUPEFACTION;
IS AROUSED; MISSES A THOUSAND DOLLARS--PLANS LAID TO CATCH
HIS LATE FRIENDS--WILLIAMS FOUND BY ACCIDENT, AND QUIETLY
CAGED--THE OLD IRISH WOMAN'S APPEAL--WILLIAMS "EXPLAINS,"
AFTER PROPER INDUCEMENT--MOST OF THE MONEY RECOVERED--SUPPLEMENTS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#341:thousanddollar#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE ANTIQUITY OF THAT SHEEP'S SKIN AND ITS PIOUS USEFULNESS--A
LARGE LOSS OF SILKS, SATINS, LACES, AND OTHER GOODS--A CONSULTATION--A
LONG STUDY--THE VARIOUS CHARACTERS OF SEVERAL
CLERKS, WHAT THEY DID, AND HOW THEY KILLED "SPARE TIME"--INFLUENCE
OF THE CITY ON MORALS--NEW YORK CENTRAL PARK--A
MOST WONDERFUL SERIES OF THEFTS--THE MATTER, INEXPLICABLE
AT FIRST, GROWS MORE SUBTLE--A GLEAM OF LIGHT AT
LAST--A BRIGHT ITALIAN BOY PLAYS A PART--A LADY FOLLOWED--MORE
LIGHT--AN EXTEMPORIZED SERVANT OF THE CROTON
WATER BOARD GETS INSIDE A CERTAIN HOUSE--SARAH CROGAN AND
I--HOW A HOUSE IN NINETEENTH STREET DELIVERED UP ITS TREASURES--"WILLIAM
BRUCE," ALIAS CHARLES PHILLIPS--A VERY
STRANGE DENOUEMENT--A MEEK MAN TRANSFORMED; HIS RAGE--A
DELIVERY UP, WITH ACCOMPANYING JEWELS--A "WIDOW" NOT
A WIDOW REMOVES--WHAT SARAH CROGAN THOUGHT.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#358:wolfin#
//014.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>A FORCED MARRIAGE SCHEME DEFEATED.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
GOSHEN, CONN.--A LADY STRANGER THERE--A PILGRIMAGE TO
GOSHEN, VIA THE FAR-FAMED MOUNTAIN TOWN OF LITCHFIELD--THE
BEAUTIFUL WIDOW--AN UNPLEASANT REMINISCENCE OF DR.
IVES, LATE BISHOP OF NORTH CAROLINA--MORE ABOUT THE WIDOW--SHE
LEAVES FOR NEW YORK--AT THE "MANSION HOUSE," LITCHFIELD--A
MARKED CHARACTER ENCOUNTERED THERE--MR. "C. B.
LE ROY" STUDIED AND WEIGHED--THE BEAUTIFUL WIDOW AND LE
ROY MEET--HER FACE DISCLOSES CONFLICTING EMOTIONS--MR. LE
ROY AND THE BEAUTIFUL WIDOW, MRS. STEVENS, TAKE A WALK
DOWN SOUTH STREET, IN THE "PARADISE OF LOAFERS"--SYMPATHIES
SILENTLY EXCHANGED--WE ALL START FOR THE "STATION"--THE
STAGE-COACH "TURNS OVER"--THE AFFRIGHTED LE ROY
REVEALS HIS MANNERS--A PECULIAR SCENE IN THE CARS--AT
BRIDGEPORT I PRESENT MYSELF TO MRS. STEVENS--AT NEW YORK
AGAIN--A TALE OF COMPLICATIONS--MRS. STEVENS IN DEEP TROUBLE--A
FRIEND OF HERS SEEKS ME--REVELATIONS--A FEARFUL
STORY--A SECRET MARRIAGE AND UNHAPPY CONSEQUENCES--THE
WRETCH LE ROY WANTS THE WIDOW'S MONEY--A TRAP SET FOR LE
ROY--HE FALLS INTO IT--WEDDING SCENE DISARRANGED--THE
WIDOW SAVED, AND THE INTENDED FORCED MARRIAGE DEFEATED.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#387:forcedmarriage#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE MARKED BILLS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A LITTLE KEY BEARING A MONOGRAM SHAPES THE DESTINY OF AN INTELLIGENT
MAN--HOW THIS MAN CAME TO BE INVOLVED IN THE
MATTER OF WHICH THIS TALE DISCOURSES--MY PARTNER AND I--FAR-OFF
MYSTERIES MAY SOLVE NEARER ONES--A CONSULTATION--A
COMMITTEE "SEEK LIGHT," AND FIND CONSOLATION--BURGLARIES
AND HIGHWAY ROBBERIES BY THE WHOLESALE--MY PARTNER
LEAVES FOR EUROPE--A TOWN IN OHIO INFESTED--A "DOCTOR
HUDSON" APPEARS IN THE TOWN--HE MAKES A PROFESSIONAL
VISIT TO ONE MR. PERKINS--A COLLOQUY; SEEKING LIGHT--A CALLOUS
HAND, AND A CLEW TO MYSTERIES--"DOCTOR HUDSON" EXTENDS
HIS ACQUAINTANCESHIP--HE MAKES A NIGHT'S VISIT OUT OF
TOWN, AND GETS WAYLAID AND ROBBED, BUT MANAGES TO CREATE
THE FATAL EVIDENCE HE WANTS OF THE ROBBERS' IDENTITY--A
COUNCIL OF PRINCIPAL CITIZENS--"DOCTOR HUDSON" MAKES A
DISCLOSURE--A SCHEME LAID--A "MILITARY INVESTMENT" OF A
DOMESTIC FORTRESS; AN EXCITING HOUR--BREAKING INTO A
HOUSE AT MIDNIGHT AND SURPRISING A SLEEPER--THE THIEF
LEAVES TOWN TO GO TO CINCINNATI TO STUDY MEDICINE WITH "DOCTOR
HUDSON"--A SUICIDE--PURITANIC MERCILESSNESS--THE MUSIC
TEACHER'S INGENIOUS LETTER TO HIS LADY LOVE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#414:markedbills#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE COOL-BLOODED GOLD ROBBER.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A SUDDEN CALL--GREAT CONSTERNATION AT THE ---- BANK IN WALL
STREET--TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN GOLD STOLEN--A HARD, INSOLUBLE
CASE--"TRY," THE SOUL OF SUCCESS--BANKS COMPELLED
TO GREATEST CAUTIOUSNESS--NO ESPRIT DE CORPS AMONG MONEY-CHANGERS--THE
WAY I "CREATED" DETECTIVES--RAG-PICKERS
MADE USEFUL ABOVE THEIR CALLING--AN UP-TOWN CARRIAGE
HOUSE, AND ITS TREASURES--A LAUGHING COACHMAN--A PRESENT--COMPLICATED
EVIDENCE UNRAVELLED--AN OLD OFFICE-WOMAN
INVOLVED IN THE MYSTERY--A BIT OF FUN FURNISHES THE DESIRED
"KEY"--"SMOUCHING," AND WHAT CAME OF IT--EXTENDING MY
ACQUAINTANCESHIP--THE THIEF FOUND--A WALL STREET BROKER--STUDYING
//015.png
.pn +1
HIM--HIS CLERK WILED AWAY--GOOD USE OF THEATRE
TICKETS--THE SCHEME OF IDENTIFICATION<target id='tn015'>--A PLOT WITHIN A PLOT--THE
BROKER WORSTED--HE STRUGGLES WITHIN HIMSELF; GROWS
PALE--HOW HE EXECUTED THE ROBBERY--THE TERRIBLE "FORCE
OF EXAMPLE" SOMETIMES--THE THIEF BECOMES A MEMBER OF THE
COMMON COUNCIL--A SALUTARY WARNING TO OTHER THIEVES.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#442:coolblooded#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>$1,250,000, OR THE PRIVATE MARK.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
MONEY-GETTING AS RELATED TO CRIME--A VERY STRANGE HISTORY--THE
MOST WONDROUS PURSUIT OF A MAN BY HIS ENEMY WHICH EVER
(PROBABLY) WAS KNOWN IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD--JAMES
WILLIAM HUBERT ROGERS AND "NED" HAGUE, TWO ENGLISHMEN--"DAMON
AND PYTHIAS" IN EARLY LIFE--A CHANGE COMES--A DEPARTED
AND CONSIDERATE UNCLE DESCRIBED, ONCE A PROTEGE OF
THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA--OLIVER CROMWELL HAGUE, A RICH
INDIA MERCHANT--A MARVELOUS SEARCH FOR A LOST MAN--A MAN
FOUND AND IDENTIFIED BY NUMEROUS FRIENDS AS THE ONE IN QUESTION--PLOTTING
AND COUNTER-PLOTTING--A SHREWD VERMONT
"LAWYER" MAKES A THOUSAND POUNDS STERLING--THE INDEFATIGABLE
ROGERS COMES TO AMERICA IN HIS SEARCH--LOST IN THE
VASTNESS OF THE COUNTRY--WE MEET, AND DEPART FOR ST. LOUIS--TROUBLES,
AND AN ENLIGHTENING DREAM--A WICKED LAWYER--THE
RIGHT TO REPENT--A SPIRITED COLLOQUY WITH THE LAWYER--AN
ENEMY FOUND AND SET TO WORK--THE GRASPING LAWYER OUTWITTED--THE
LOST FOUND IN A TERRIBLE CONDITION--A LITTLE
PRIVATE FUN OVER THE LAWYER'S DISCOMFITURE--A SHARP EXAMINATION
AND CROSS-EXAMINATION--LAWYER OUTWITTED, AND LOSES
FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS--MR. ROGERS DEPARTS WITH THE "LOST
ONE," BOUND FOR ENGLAND--DROWNING OF THE LATTER AT SEA--THE
CHERISHED VICTORY OF YEARS VANISHES--OUT, WITH A LAUGH.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#461:privatemark#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>WILLIAM ROBERTS AND HIS FORGERIES.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A MAN OF THE OLDEN TYPE--HIS SAD STORY ABOUT HIS WIFE AND HIMSELF--THEY
ADOPT A BRIGHT BOY--THE WIFE'S PROPHET SPECULATIONS
ABOUT THE BOY--THE BOY GROWS UP AND GOES TO COLLEGE--A
PLEASANT YEAR--HE LEARNS CERTAIN MYSTERIES OF
LIFE--STUDENTS' PITCHED BATTLE WITH THE FACULTY OF THE COLLEGE--OF
THE "WHITE HORSE"--A WHILE IN A LAWYER'S OFFICE--BECOMES
A MERCHANT--MAKING MONEY TOO FAST--A FATAL
HOUR--THE VORTEX OF WALL STREET--SUNDRY FORGERIES--A
STRANGE CAREER--AN IMPORTANT WITNESS LOST, AND FOUND IN
THE INSANE RETREAT, HARTFORD, CONN.--A TERRIBLE COMPLICATION
OF AFFAIRS; LAWYERS AND ALL BAFFLED--I AM CALLED IN
TO WORK UP THE CASE--DIFFICULTIES ENCOUNTERED--FATE INTERPOSES--WENTWORTH,
THE INSANE WITNESS, RECOVERS--A VAST
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BLACK INK AND BLUE INK--DYING OF GRIEF--AN
UNHAPPY HOUSEHOLD.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#492:williamroberts#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>OLD MR. ALVORD'S LAST WILL.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE DESTRUCTIVE GREED OF GAIN--A WEIRD, WONDROUS TALE--"WHAT
IF THEY BUT KNEW"--TELLING STORIES AWAY FROM HOME--REVELATIONS--AN
OLD MAN OF THE HIGH MORAL TYPE--CURIOUS
NOTION ABOUT THE SIZE OF A FAMILY--THE MYSTIC NUMBER
THREE--PORTRAITS OF A FAMILY; A PERFECT WOMAN--DEATH AND
INTRIGUES--A "FAITHFUL SERVANT"--OLD WILLS AND NEW--LEGAL
COMPLICATIONS--THE LAST WILL MISSING--A CRAFTY LAWYER--A
//016.png
.pn +1
THOROUGH SEARCH--A DIABOLICAL COURTSHIP, AND FIERCE
STRUGGLE THROUGH THREE YEARS--A DETECTIVE AT LAST CALLED
INTO THE MATTER--A PLOT LAID TO FOIL OLD BOYD, AN UNSCRUPULOUS
LAWYER--DID IT SUCCEED?--THE READER PERMITTED TO ANSWER
THE QUESTION FOR HIMSELF--A VITAL DISCOVERY--MORE
PLOTTING--A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY MAKES A DIVERSION IN THE
PLANS--OLD ANDREW WILCOX'S FUNNY LETTERS SEARCHED AND A
TREASURE "FOUND" AMONG THEM--OLD BOYD'S CONSTERNATION--THE
LAST WILL FINALLY CARRIED OUT--"NOTHING IMPOSSIBLE"--A
FORTUNE TOO LARGE TO BE LAUGHED AT--A CUNNING WIFE LEADS
HER HUSBAND A CURIOUS LIFE--A BIT OF COMFORT, PERHAPS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#509:oldmr#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE CONFIDENTIAL CLERK.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE INNOCENT OFTEN SUFFER WITH THE GUILTY--THE DETECTIVES'
"KEYS"--REGRETS--LEONARD SAVAGE, A YOUNG MAN OF NEW
HAMPSHIRE, AND HIS FAMILY STOCK--RICHARD BROOKS, A WEALTHY
NEW YORK MERCHANT--HIS VISIT TO YOUNG SAVAGE'S FATHER--RESULTS--PARTIAL
BIOGRAPHY OF MR. BROOKS, IN WALL STREET
AND ELSEWHERE--A SLAVE TO FORTUNE--A FATHER'S PRIDE--MR.
BROOKS' FEARFUL DREAM--MR. BROOKS IN THE OLD HOME OF HIS
CHILDHOOD--HOW A TRUE MAN TREATS HIS WIFE--FAMILY ASPIRATIONS--THE
LOVE OF YOUNG MEN--COUNTRY AND CITY TEMPTATION--A
"NEW SUIT," AND A TRIP TO THE MOUNTAINS--A SURPRISING
PRESENT--A HAPPY SEASON--A FEARFUL CHANGE COMES--TERRIBLE
RESULTS OF AN UNJUST JUDGMENT--STRANGEST THING
EVER KNOWN--A CATHOLIC PENITENT AN ACTOR IN THE SCENES--REMORSE--UNRAVELLINGS
IN AN UNEXPECTED WAY--A SPEEDY VOYAGE
TO EUROPE TO RESTORE THE WRONGED TO HIS RIGHT PLACE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#542:confidential#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE PECULIAR ADVERTISEMENTS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE DOCTRINE OF CHANCE--A NIGHT AT THE GIRARD HOUSE, PHILADELPHIA--AN
INOFFENSIVE GENTLEMAN, MY ROOM-MATE--I DISTURB
HIS SLEEP--A QUEER TALE--NELLIE WILSON AND HER UNCLE--WILLIAM
WILSON, NELLIE'S DISSOLUTE COUSIN--FEARFUL LOVE-MAKING--A
RESCUE--A CALL TO DUTY--A DEAD MAN'S WILL MISSING--STUDYING
UP THE CASE WITH THE GREAT CRIMINAL LAWYER,
JUDGE S.--FATE INTERPOSES--A MYSTERIOUS AND PECULIAR ADVERTISEMENT--AT
THE CONTINENTAL HOTEL, WAITING AND WATCHING--AN
"APPEARANCE"--WILLIAM WILSON AGAIN--AN UPPER
ROOM, AND THE VILLAINS THEREIN--A PRIVATE CONFERENCE NOT
ALL SECRET--A FLASH OF VICTORY BEFORE UTTER DEFEAT--NOTES
AND DOCUMENTS EXCHANGED--BASE REJOICINGS--FATAL NEGLECT--THE
SURPRISE--COMPLETE DISCOMFITURE--END ACCOMPLISHED--"COALS
OF FIRE," BUT THEY DO NO GOOD--VIOLENT DEATH--HAPPY
CONSEQUENCES--PECULIAR ADVERTISEMENTS UNRAVELLED.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#571:peculiar#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>COL. NOVENA, PRINCE OF CONFIDENCE MEN.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE CONFIDENCE MAN, PAR EXCELLENCE; A REAL "ARTIST"--"COL.
NOVENA," "COUNT ANTONELLI," "GEN. ALVEROSA," "SIR RICHARD
MURRAY," MAKES A VISIT--A MAN OF GREAT NATURAL ABILITY, WITH
"A SCREW LOOSE"--A BIT OF "PHILOSOPHY"--THE MAN DESCRIBED,
VERSATILE, AGILE, BRAVE, DARING--THE COLONEL AS A GALLANT--CURIOUS
TALE ABOUT TWO SISTERS AND COL. NOVENA--PRESIDENT
BUCHANAN, PROFESSOR HENRY, GEN. FREMONT, AND MR. SEWARD OF
THE NUMBER OF HIS FRIENDS--DISHONEST WAYS OF DOING "LEGITIMATE
BUSINESS"--A SHOCKING BAD MEMORY--THE COLONEL AS A
PHILANTHROPIST--COMES TO GRIEF--AT WASHINGTON, D. C.--SARATOGA
TEMPTS THE COLONEL.--HIS SUCCESSES THERE--A CHANGE
//017.png
.pn +1
OF CIRCUMSTANCES--A VALUABLE DIAMOND NECKLACE LOST--THE
GREAT MYSTERY--HISTORIC CHARACTER OF THE NECKLACE--THOROUGH
SEARCHING--THE SHREWDEST SCAMPS GENERALLY HAVE BETTER
REPUTATION THAN MOST PEOPLE--TOO GOOD A "CHARACTER"
A MATTER OF SUSPICION--"MR. HENRY INMAN, ARTIST," IS CREATED--HEADWAY
MADE--THE NECKLACE COMES TO LIGHT IN THE POSSESSION
OF A MOST REMARKABLE WOMAN--GOODNESS IN BAD
PLACES--A LIVING MORAL PARADOX--AN "UNFORTUNATE" GOOD
SAMARITAN--THE GENERAL'S SENSE OF HONOR WOUNDED--TO
CANADA--DOWN THE RAPIDS OF THE ST. LAWRENCE--A TOMB
IN GREENWOOD--RENDERING TO WOMAN HER DUE--A BLESSED
CHARITY--WALL STREET CORRUPTS THE MORALS OF THE NATION.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#589:colonelnovena#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
A ROBBERY--ONE OF THE FEMALE ATTACHÉS OF THE GREAT KOSSUTH--A
WIDOW LADY OF RANK IN HUNGARY--KOSSUTH'S SISTER--A
BOARDING-HOUSE AT NEWARK, N. J., AND ITS INMATES--SUNDRY
FACTS AND CONSIDERATIONS--BEAUTY WINS--AN INVESTIGATION--SERVANTS
EXAMINED--THE PATENT-ROOF MAKER--"TRACING" A
MAN--A HOLLOW WALKING-STICK WITH MONEY IN IT--NO CLEW YET--A
PATHETIC BLUNDER--REVELATIONS IN DREAMS--A BIT OF
PAPER TELLS A STORY--IDENTIFICATION--THIEF ARRESTED--CONDITIONAL
SETTLEMENT--TRIUMPHAL VISIT TO THE WIDOW--"WHITE
LIE," AND ANNOUNCEMENT--DOUBTING--PERFECT EVIDENCE SOMETIMES
IMPERFECT--UNSOLVED PROBLEM; WHO DID THE ROBBERY?
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#610:circumstantial#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE COUNTERFEIT MONEY SPECULATORS.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
"MONEY"--THE COUNTERFEITERS' MORAL PHILOSOPHY--THE CUNNING
OF BANK BILLS--NO VALID BANK BILLS ISSUED--A TRICK
OF THE BANKS TO EVADE THE LAW--SWINDLING UNDER "COLOR OF
LAW," AND IN DEFIANCE THEREOF; A VAST DISTINCTION--COUNTERFEITERS
AS "PUBLIC BENEFACTORS"--THE REGULAR COUNTERFEITERS
EMBARRASSED BY THE BOGUS ONES--MR. "FERGUSON'S" MARVELLOUS
LETTER--COUNTLESS COMPLAINTS--THE "HONEST FARMER"
OF VERMONT, AND HIS SPECULATION WITH THE COUNTERFEIT
MONEY MEN--WHAT HE SENT FOR, AND WHAT HE GOT--A SECURELY
DONE-UP PACKAGE--A "DOWN-CELLAR" SCENE--THE "HONEST
FARMER'S" CONFUSION--A BIT OF LOCAL HISTORY RELATING TO
THOMASTON, CONN.--THE HONEST OYSTER DEALER THERE, AND THE
NINETY DOLLARS "C. O. D."--A QUESTION UNSETTLED--HOW THE
"HONEST FARMER" OF VERMONT CHEATED ME AT LAST.
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#626:counterfeitmoney#

.sp 2
.ce
<l><b>THE DETECTIVE SYSTEM.</b></l>
.sp 1
.ll -4
.in +4
.ti -2
THE NECESSITY OF THE DETECTIVE SYSTEM GENERALLY DISCUSSED--STATE
OF SOCIETY WHICH CREATED IT--REGULAR AND IRREGULAR
ROBBERS--THE YOUNG MAN OF INTELLIGENCE ENTERING UPON ACTIVE
LIFE, A PICTURE--HE NATURALLY ALLIES HIMSELF TO THE TYRANT
AND ROBBING CLASSES--NO HONESTY IN TRADE--TRADE
RULES; AND ALL ARE CORRUPT--NO CONSCIENCE AMONG TRAFFICKERS--LYING
A FINE ART--ALL VILLAINS, BUT NONE INDIVIDUALLY
AT FAULT--THE DETECTIVE BELONGS TO THE CORRUPT GOVERNING
CLASSES--WEIGHING HIM--GREAT THIEVES--"THE PURVEYORS OF
HELL"--THE ETERNAL TALKERS, AND WHAT THEY AMOUNT TO--THE
USE FOR DETECTIVES AN INCIDENT; "CATCHING A FLAT"--THE
DETECTIVE'S VOCATION FURTHER CONSIDERED--HOW THE DETECTIVES
PROTECT SOCIETY--ILLUSTRATIVE INCIDENTS--A GREAT DETECTIVE
DESCRIBED--STRATAGEMS--WHAT THE PHILOSOPHERS SAY--IS
THE DETECTIVE SYSTEM FROM ABOVE OR BELOW?
.in -4
.ll +4
.rj
#643:detectivesystem#
//018.png
.pn +1


.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=illustrations
List of Illustrations.
.sp 2

.ta rlr

1.|PORTRAIT OF GEO. S. McWATTERS,|#<i>Frontispiece.</i>:fpiece#

2.|McWATTERS' SPECTACLE CASE,|<i>To face page</i> #33:i_032#

3.|"TEN DOLLARS A MONTH,"|#79:i_078#

4.|McWATTERS AND THE VETERAN,|#87:i_086#

5.|THE BOND OPERATOR,|#103:i_102#

6.|THE WAX FINGER DISCOVERED,|#127:i_126#

7.|SEIZURE OF YOUNG WORDEN IN BALTIMORE,|#149:i_148#

8.|ATLANTIC BEER GARDEN.--PAYNE AND COLLINS' RENDEZVOUS,|#165:i_164#

9.|DESCENT UPON BLANCHARD AND THE GAMBLERS,|#173:i_172#

10.|PROTECTING THE INNOCENT,|#201:i_200#

11.|RESCUE OF HATTIE NEWBERRY,|#215:i_214#

12.|RESTELL AT SING SING,|#221:i_222#

13.|THE BOGUS LOTTERY OFFICE,|#237:i_236#

14.|SURPRISING THE BOGUS LOTTERY DEALERS,|#249:i_248#

15.|RECOVERING THE DIAMOND RING,|#267:i_266#

16.|THE OLD KNICKERBOCKER IN THE DETECTIVE'S OFFICE,|#279:i_278#

17.|DISCOVERING THE "SPIRITS" AT NO. 89 ---- STREET, NEW YORK,|#291:i_290#

18.|"KETCH HIM AND HOULD HIM!"--WILLIAMS' ARREST,|#355:i_354#

19.|THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING,|#383:i_382#

20.|BREAK-DOWN ON LITCHFIELD HILL,|#399:i_398#

21.|THE CEREMONY DEFEATED,|#409:i_408#

22.|DR. HUDSON'S STRATAGEM WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN,|#433:i_432#

23.|THE MISSOURI LAWYER OUTWITTED,|#489:i_488#

24.|A RASH COURTSHIP,|#521:i_520#

25.|FEARFUL DREAM OF OLD MR. BROOKS,|#549:i_548#

26.|RESCUE OF NELLIE WILSON,|#577:i_576#

27.|RESCUE OF THE WILL,|#585:i_584#

28.|THE TWO SISTERS COURTING COL. NOVENA IN HIS LIBRARY,|#595:i_594#

29.|THE "HONEST" COUNTERFEIT MONEY SPECULATOR,|#639:i_638#

30.|CATCHING A FLAT,|#659:i_658#
.ta-
//019.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=intro
PUBLISHERS' INTRODUCTION.
.hr 20%
.sp 2

.if h
<b><sc>Deeming </sc></b>
.if-
.if t
Deeming
.if-
that the public would be deeply interested to know,
indeed had a right to know, something more of the author of the
following work than gleams through the series of entertaining,
instructive, and in many respects unparalleled articles which constitute
"Knots Untied," we applied to him for his Autobiography,
in details covering other portions of, and facts in his life, than are
revealed in the wonderful experiences of his professional career, as
brought to light in these articles.

But we were met by a reply, characteristic of most men of deeds
rather than of words, that it would be wholly against his taste to
furnish his own personal history: he was in 'no wise desirous to
vaunt himself,' he said; 'he had not sought,' he continued, by the
articles in question, to illustrate himself, or to play the part of a
hero in any measure, but merely to contribute to the current literature
and the history of the times a narration of sundry interesting
facts, which, in their hidden and secret nature, are usually withheld
from the general public.

Throughout this book Officer McWatters has shown the modesty
of a retiring and unassuming man; making no further allusion to
himself, and his deeds and experiences, than necessary to sustain
the thread of the narratives. He desired that the book should stand
upon its own merits, without any adventitious aid from the high
indorsements of his own daily life and personal character, such as
will be found in what follows. He would, so far as the book is concerned,
be judged as an officer and an author, rather than by the
merits of his own private life, be they great or small. In this he
evinced a commendable pride and a good sense which we could not
question.

Nevertheless we considered it fitting that we add to the book such
facts as we might possess ourselves of regarding the career of a
man whose life has been given, in so great part, to deeds of good,
heartfully and freely done, and to humanitary reforms, as has Officer
McWatters'.
//020.png
.pn +1

For it is not strictly and merely in the capacity of a successful
officer or as a spirited and graceful writer that "the Literary Policeman"
(as the journals of New York are wont to distinguish Officer
McWatters) has done his best works. Officer McWatters is, <i>par
excellence</i>, a humanitarian, a gentleman of the widest tolerance and
liberality of opinions, as is evinced in various parts of the narratives,
which exhibit nothing of that cruel and tyrannical spirit so
common to men who have much to do with the criminal classes. It
is rather by kindness than severity that he would deal with the
erring.

Officer McWatters, being unwilling to supply his Autobiography;
and being ourselves without sufficient notes to furnish the public
with the biographical comments which we considered so desirable
concerning him, we intrusted the matter of writing his personal history
to a well known literary gentleman of New York, with directions
to him to put into form whatever he could authentically gather
of a nature interesting to the reading public in general, concerning
the author of "Knots Untied."

How well he fulfilled his arduous duty, under the circumstances,
the reader of the Biographical Notes which follow will judge for
himself. But we regard it as not improper for us to say, that in
our opinion the Biographical Notes will be found a very interesting
addition to "Knots Untied," not only by the insight they give the
reader into the career of a man, who, filling an unpretentious sphere
in life, so far as technical vocations are concerned, has made himself
illustrious by deeds of good will; but also by their style, peculiar
in some respects, and here and there marked by the utterance of
brave thoughts regarding matters of so much vital interest to the
laboring classes, the poor, who are the "chief constituency," in a
humanitary sense, of Officer McWatters himself,--by his benefactions
to whom he has mostly won that high popular esteem, which
is so well recorded in the Biographical Notes.

It is due to the writer of the Biographical Notes to remark here
that, in view of the very short period that was given him in which
to prepare the same, he accomplished in their production, a task
which would be notable, even without consideration of the peculiar
difficulties which lay in his path. It is not an easy thing to search
hurriedly through a thousand newspapers, for example, for material,
//021.png
.pn +1
and select and arrange the same acceptably. But upon this
point, perhaps, we cannot do better than to append to this, our Introduction,
a copy of the letter which accompanied the Biographical
Notes, from the gentleman in question.

.rj
<sc>The Publishers.</sc>

.sp 2
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4

.ll -2
.rj
<sc>New York</sc>, February 10, 1871.
.ll +2

.ti 0
<sc>To the Publishers of "Knots Untied"</sc>:

.sp 1
<sc>Gentlemen</sc>: Concerning the biography of Officer McWatters, which
you requested me to supply, I am compelled to say that I am unable to
give you anything in the "form and order" which a biography should--that
it may be whole and symmetrical--present to the reader. Officer
McWatters belongs to the class of men who <i>make</i> history,--the actors
and workers in life,--rather than those who merely write history, or who
so order their lives, and keep diaries, that their biographers can readily follow
them from the cradle to the tomb.

Officer McWatters is widely known in New York. Everybody recognizes
him as an active philanthropist, of the practical school; yet but a
few of all, if any, if called upon as I am, to make detail of the deeds of his
life, could place his hand upon this or that, and say, "This is McWatters'
work," without some investigation; and for the most part of what I have
collected, I have been obliged to search the public journals.

I am indebted, also, for sundry facts, to several of Officer McWatters's
personal acquaintances, and have also drawn upon my own memory somewhat
for facts which have come to my knowledge during an acquaintanceship
with Mr. McWatters of about sixteen years. But I have not attempted
to put things in their order, to any great extent; for there is no such thing
as a "<i>course</i> of events" (the "Declaration of Independence" to the
contrary notwithstanding). Events are individuate, each a completion in
itself, and the great deeds of any man's life are usually individual, and
not dependently connected with each other.

But in the accompanying papers I send you such a hurriedly executed
biographical sketch of Officer McWatters as the short time you have
allowed me would permit, trusting that, notwithstanding all its literary imperfections,
it will not, so far as it goes, be found wanting in due appreciation,
at least, of the noble career of a faithful, true man, who has done, earnestly
and with loving spirit, his share of good deeds; and who merits both the
respect and affection of all who prize what is gentle, brave, honorable, and
honest in life.

.sp 1
.ce
Very respectfully yours,

.sp 1

.ll -2
.rj
S.
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

//022.png

.pb
.pn 21
.sp 4
.h2 id=biographicalnotes
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.
.hr 20%
.sp 2

.h3 id=officergeorge
<l>OFFICER GEORGE S. McWATTERS.</l>
.sp 1

.if h
<sc><b>The</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
The
.if-
subject of these Notes is now about fifty-seven
years of age,--a hale, hearty, rosy-faced man, agile, lithe
of limb, in the full vigor of life; and were it not for his
gray beard and hair, might easily pass as not over forty
years of age. Always temperate in his habits, he has,
notwithstanding the many hardships of his life, some of
which would have broken down less vigorous constitutions
than his, preserved to himself the blessing of health and
the hues of youth in a remarkable degree. He is of a
medium height, with a countenance not only always fresh
and rosy, but beaming with benevolence--"a good face
to look into," to quote Carlyle. Judging from Officer
McWatters' physiognomy, and from his style of speech, it
would be difficult to declare him to be either Scotch, Irish,
or English; he might, by many, be considered an American
by birth and education, especially if he were to assume
the name "Hudson," "Clark," or "Hyde," for example.

.sp 2
.h3 id=wherehe
<sc>Where he was born and reared.</sc>
.sp 1

It matters not in what country a man may have been
born, whatever the institutions under which one is reared
//023.png
.pn +1
may have to do with the formation of his character; and as
to Officer McWatters' place of birth, we are not absolutely
certain, but believe he was born in Kilmarnock, Scotland,
and was taken thence by his parents, at an early age, to
the north of Ireland, where he was reared.

It is easy to conjecture that a man like Mr. McWatters
must have had a more or less ambitious boyhood; and his
friends have sometimes heard him recite the wakeful
dreams he as a youth indulged in, of "the beautiful land
beyond the western waters." Officer McWatters was evidently
born out of place, for he is intensely democratic
in his sentiments, more so than most native-born Americans,
and manifests an appreciation of free institutions,
which not unfrequently rises to the sublime, or intensifies
to the pathetic. It is doubtful, for example, that
during the late civil war there could have been found
in all the land a man who took a deeper, soul-felt interest
in the integrity of the republic than he. But of
this farther on.

Mr. McWatters after receiving a very respectable education
in the schools of the north of Ireland, became a
mechanic; but the monotonous life of a working-man there,
was ill suited to an ardent nature like his; and while yet
a young man, full of the spirit of adventure, he left his
Irish home, and proceeded to London, where he pursued
his trade, and eventually married a most estimable lady,
who has ever been to him a helpmeet indeed. By this
lady Mr. McWatters is the father of a very interesting
family of some six children, who have been carefully
reared, and have enjoyed excellent opportunities of education.
Miss Charlotte, the eldest daughter of Mr. McWatters,
a lady of refined culture, as well as extreme personal
graces and attractions, was married in October, 1860, to
Signor Errani, then the distinguished tenor of the Academy
of Music, and who not only occupies a first class position
in his profession, but is a gentleman of marked intellectuality
and extensive literary acquirements.
//024.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.h3 id=removesto
<target id='tn024'>REMOVES TO LONDON
.sp 1
London is a world-school in itself. What a man cannot
learn there of arts, sciences, and literature and of all the
various phases of humanity, from the worse or lower than
the barbarian, up to the highest type which "Natural Selection,"
according to the Darwinian theory, has developed,
he would be unable to learn in any other spot of Earth.
Though young yet mature, and with an active, inquiring
brain it cannot be supposed that Mr. McWatters allowed
the grand opportunity for observation which life in London
gave him, to pass profitlessly. Going from among the stiff
Presbyterian forms of life in the north of Ireland, which
must have been galling to a spirit like his, directly to London
with all its social freedoms, the change was a great
one for him, and must have piqued his intelligence to the
keenest examination and scrutiny of his new surroundings.

In London dwell the best as well as the worst people to
be found in the world. The advanced spirits, philosophers
and reformers, whom the civilization of other European
countries is not sufficiently developed to tolerate, seek the
asylum of England and make London their home; so, too,
of the criminal classes. The most murderous thieves and
burglars find in London a hiding place and theatre of operations.
London, which was too large even fifty years ago,
and was then emphatically one of those accursed "vampires
upon the public weal," as Jefferson declared all cities to be,
has grown marvelously since, and continues to grow to the
wonder of all political economists, who are at a loss to
determine wherefore. But such is the fact, and into this
great seething sea of human life was it that Mr. McWatters
plunged in his first essay at "studying human nature" away
from the narrow field of his boyhood's observations. Whoever
resides in London, and acquaints himself with what is
about him, and mingles in the city's strifes, and comes out
unscathed need not fear to trust himself anywhere in the
world.
//025.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.h3 id=migratesto
<sc>Migrates to the United States.</sc>
.sp 1

Mr. McWatters, after sojourning in London for a while
after his marriage, betook himself, with his estimable wife,
to this Land of Promise. In London he had made the acquaintance
of many of the leading men most interested in
questions bearing upon sociology, humane reforms, and
philanthropic efforts at the amelioration of the condition of
the laboring classes. His warm heart became greatly
aroused in seconding the needed reforms which his keen
intellect demonstrated were urgent for the good of not
only the laborers of London, but of the working classes
everywhere; and he brought with him to this country what
may properly be termed an intense general anti-slavery
spirit, embracing in its sympathy not only chattel-slaves,
but wages-slaves, of every kind and color. And this may
properly be said to be the chief characteristic of Mr.
McWatters; and that he has made this felt for the good of
his fellow-men as effectively, perhaps, as any other man
living, considering his means and the sphere in which he
has operated, cannot be questioned by any one who has
attentively read our city journals of the last ten years
especially.

The writer has gathered, and has before him, not less
than two hundred and twenty different extracts from the
papers of New York, in all of which Mr. McWatters is
complimentarily spoken of in reference to his benevolent
action, his humanitary deeds to the poor and suffering, or
his active coöperation with some great public charity.

Mr. McWatters, though gifted with that untiring industry,
clear, native intelligence, and wide understanding of
men and things, which conquer fortunes in money for their
possessors, has never achieved fortune for himself, so busily
has he been engaged in deeds of benevolence. At the expense
of his heart he could never afford the time to make
a fortune. The like fact has marked the history of many
other philanthropic spirits, and should redound as much to
//026.png
.pn +1
their credit, as does the same to that of certain great
scholars whose devotion to science would never allow them
the opportunity for turning their great talents to money-making.
It is reported of Professor Agassiz, the great
scientist, that being asked by some admirer of his vast
talents (and who knew that he rejoiced not in a large share
of "this world's goods" in the shape of money), why he
did not turn his attention to money-making, and get rich,
as he would be sure to do soon, he replied, "I cannot afford
the time."



.sp 2
.h3 id=settlesin
<sc>Settles in Philadelphia, and studies Law.</sc>
.sp 1

Soon after arriving in this country, Mr. McWatters made
his way to Philadelphia, where he took up his residence.
After various vicissitudes, he gave his time (1848-9) for a
year to the study of the law, under William R. Dickerson,
Esq., a Philadelphia lawyer of large practice, but a man of
that stamp of character which made him of peculiar value
as a collector of debts, especially in doubtful cases. He
was rigid, exacting, and uncompromising with debtors.
Mr. McWatters reveled in the study of Blackstone, Kent,
Chitty, etc., and looked forward with eagerness to the time
when he should be prepared to enter the "glorious lists"
of the Knights of the Bar.



.sp 2
.h3 id=hearttoo
<sc>A Heart too soft for a Lawyer.</sc>
.sp 1

But a change was to come suddenly over the spirit of
his beautiful dream, and which he foresaw not. Eventually
Mr. Dickerson intrusted Mr. McWatters with sundry collections.
He found this branch of the business unpleasant in
its performance. His soft heart ached for the poor debtors.
He could not nerve himself to act the part of an extortioner.
When a poor widow, or orphans, or some discouraged
man just arisen from a sick bed, and in arrears
for rent, etc., shed tears in reciting his sufferings, Mr.
McWatters forgot the lawyer in the humanitarian.

Finally, one day he was sent to collect a debt of a poor
//027.png
.pn +1
shoemaker, who was barely able to get bread enough for
himself and his family to subsist upon. The laws of Pennsylvania
exempt from civil process certain portions of a
housekeeper's furniture; but when contracting for rent,
the housekeeper may waive his right to such exemption, if
he likes. The poor shoemaker in question had done so;
but in order to distrain his goods for the debt,--in other
words, to take away his very bed, and other necessary
furniture,--it was incumbent upon the officer to get
peaceable admittance into the house; and that he might do
so in this case, Mr. McWatters was sent forward to effect
entrance as a person seeking the shoemaker's service,
while the constable had his post at a corner near by, and was
to rush in when the door should be opened.

The whole thing was sickening to Mr. McWatters. He
went, however, as ordered, and rapped at the door, the
officer watching at his post. For a reason most creditable
to Mr. McWatters' heart, but which may be left here only
to the reader's surmise, that door, which was unlocked
when he rapped, became duly locked, without the officer's
being any the wiser as to <i>how</i> it was done, and entrance
was not then effected.

This was the crowning grief to Mr. McWatters' disgust
with the practice of the law, and he quitted the further
study of the "science" thereof, feeling that he could never
harden his heart to the practice of a profession which often
requires much of unscrupulousness of conscience and such
mercilessness. But his year's study became of great service
to him later in life, when called upon as a detective
officer, or member of the Metropolitan Police force, in
sudden emergencies, when a knowledge of the law in this
or that particular was necessary for judicious action.



.sp 2
.h3 id=departsfor
<sc>Departs for California.</sc>
.sp 1

About this time the great exodus from the United States,
in fact from all parts of the world, to the California gold
diggings, began. Mr. McWatters arranged his affairs,
//028.png
.pn +1
and migrated, with tens of thousands more, to the new El
Dorado. But he was not happy there. The mad strife for
gold overwhelmed all other things there. Men, in general,
lost whatever of conscience they carried there, and the
whole population was plunged in vices or crimes of one
kind or another. Mr. McWatters found that he was not
constituted to engage in such reckless warfare at the expense
of all that was manly and good, and after nine
months came to New York, which has since been his home.



.sp 2
.h3 id=backin
<sc>Back in New York.</sc>
.sp 1

Soon after his return from California, Mr. McWatters
became associated with Laura Keene, the actress, as her
agent in New York and Buffalo; and it was while he was
at this time associated with her (for he was connected with
her in subsequent engagements) that Mr. MCWatters was
first called upon to enact the part of a detective.

To his success in this instance referred to may be attributed
the series of wonderful articles which constitute "Knots
Untied;" for had he failed on that occasion, it is probable
that he would never have had confidence to attempt again
the critical <i>rôle</i> which the successful detective must necessarily
play; and the literature of the age would therefore
have lacked the charming contribution of the mysterious
revelations of hidden life which Mr. McWatters has made
in these spirited tales.

It would be pleasing to the writer to make allusion here
in detail, somewhat, to that incident, and other affairs in
which Mr. McWatters became engaged, and which have
come to the writer's knowledge, but which Mr. McWatters
has not seen fit to reveal in "Knots Untied;" but it would,
perhaps, be an unwarranted act to do so. He has conceived
the design of the book to suit his own tastes, of course;
and while he has in these articles struck a chord which
cannot but awaken in the popular mind a rich responsive
appreciation of his book, yet he cannot expect to suit
everybody's taste in every respect.
//029.png
.pn +1


.sp 2
.h3 id=mrmcwatters
<sc>Mr. McWatters as Agent and Lecturer.</sc>
.sp 1

It is not attempted here to give the current of Mr.
McWatters' life as it occurred, in successive steps; indeed,
the writer is not sure in respect to dates in all cases, possessing
only the facts in substance. But not long after
Mr. McWatters' first engagement with Miss Keene was determined,
he became the exhibiting lecturer accompanying
a grand panorama of a "Journey to California by Water
and back by Land," and it is not difficult to conceive that
with his experiences as a traveller, his residence in California,
and his gifts as a public speaker, he made the
"Journey" a matter of great delight to his audiences.
The panorama was exhibited in the chief cities and towns
of various States.

Subsequently Mr. McWatters became the agent of the
late Countess of Lansfeldt, more generally known as Lola
Montez, which he continued to be until nearly the time of
her death. Much has been written about Lola,--much
which is false, as well as much which is true. She was, in
some respects, particularly social ones, a great woman,
but had her weaknesses, like other mortals. Lola, like
many, was inclined to occasional religious fits; and this
fact suggests an incident worthy of recital, since it illustrates
something of the life of persons of much public
note.



.sp 2
.h3 id=anecdoteof
<sc>Anecdote of Lola Montez and Laura Keene.</sc>
.sp 1

Reference has been made to Mr. McWatters' association
with Laura Keene. At a certain time Lola Montez became
very religious, and continued so for a while. During her
pious enthusiasm she determined to sell her theatrical
wardrobe, consisting of splendid dresses, and dress-patterns
(unmade-up), stage jewelry, of magnificent description, etc.
She requested Mr. McWatters to offer them for sale to
Laura Keene. He took some of the "goods" to Laura,
whose purse at that time was rather limited. She could
//030.png
.pn +1
not gratify herself with the purchase of all, but selected a
very heavy, rich dress-pattern, for which she paid in part,
but on which Mr. McWatters trusted her for the sum of
twenty-five dollars. When Mr. McWatters reported the
sale to Lola, she was angry that he had trusted Laura.

Miss Keene was then running the Olympic Theatre.
John Duff was her manager, together with Leutz, her husband.
Laura wished to surprise them with the story of
her new purchase, and had sent it off privately to have it
made up gorgeously. When she heard that Lola was angry
at Mr. McWatters' having trusted her, she sent for the
dress; found it finished; declared that she had already paid
for it all it was worth, but sent Mr. McWatters to some merchant's
to have the goods appraised; whereupon he found
that it was not dress-goods at all, but stuff for covering
furniture,--known by all ladies now as "rep." Mr. McWatters
reporting the discovery, Laura became angry, and sent
the dress, with all its costly trimmings on, to Lola. Lola got
angry again in turn, and tore off the trimming (which she
sent back to Laura), and burned up the dress.



.sp 2
.h3 id=solvingsocial
<sc>Mr. McWatters solving Social Problems.</sc>
.sp 1

Mr. McWatters was busily occupied in connection with
theatres, etc., for a long period, more or less interspersed
with his enterprises as a detective officer, and his busy life
was richly freighted with interesting experiences.

Mr. McWatters has ever been greatly interested in social
problems, having in view the emancipation of the
laboring classes from their more grievous burdens, and
belongs, in his sympathies, to that class of humanitarians
who see in Association something like a realization of the
teachings of the Founder of Christianism; and at one time
was practically engaged with several other philanthropists,
in an experiment partaking considerably of Coöperation,
but which unhappily failed of its desired success for want
of more, and better disciplined coöperatives therein. It
would be interesting to the reader, but out of place here
//031.png
.pn +1
to present something particular of the history of the
experiment alluded to.



.sp 2
.h3 id=oursubject
<sc>Our Subject and the Public Press.</sc>
.sp 1

The writer has before him, clipped from the public journals,
the record of remarkable incidents enough in Mr.
McWatters' life to fill a small volume of themselves, only
a few of which can properly be alluded to in a cursory
biography. Such men's lives are often illustrated by
"hairbreadth escapes," or signal good fortune under trying
circumstances; but it is doubtful that a more singular
and happily ending affair has ever occurred in any man's
experience than one, the record of which was made at the
time, in the New York Dispatch of June 20, 1858, and
which is here copied in full.

"<sc>Pusillanimous Highwaymen.--Two Knights of the
Road Frightened by a Spectacle Case.</sc>--At a few minutes
to one o'clock yesterday morning, Mr. G. S. McWatters,
late door-keeper at Laura Keene's theatre, was passing
through Bleecker Street, near Mott. Suddenly two men
sprang at him from behind a tree, one catching him around
the waist, and the other making a grab at his throat.
With a quick and powerful effort, turning himself around,
he managed to fling from him the one who had hold of his
waist; and quickly taking from his side coat-pocket a silver
spectacle case, he drew his hand back with great emphasis,
cautioning the other fellow not to advance a step, or he
would stab him to the heart. The second fellow evidently
mistook the glistening of the spectacle case in the moonlight
as the gleaming of steel, for in double-quick time
he took to his heels, followed by his companion, whose
fall, as the result proved, had not detracted from his nimble-footedness.
Mr. McWatters let the fellows run, very prudently
avoiding imposing a task upon his lungs by calling
for the police. It is thought they followed him for his
money, of which he had a considerable amount about
him."
//032.png
.pn +1
//033.png
.pn +1

.pm illo i_032 i_032.jpg 700px "McWATTERS' SPECTACLE CASE."

//034.png
.pn +1



.sp 2
.h3 id=entersmetropolitan
<sc>Mr. McWatters enters the Metropolitan Police Force.</sc>
.sp 1

Passing over a period in Mr. McWatters' busy life, checkered
with incidents and exploits of a marvellous kind in his
career as a private detective, as well as much that is interesting
of his active participation in many measures of a
politico-reformatory and socialistic nature, we find that Mr.
McWatters entered the Metropolitan Police force in 1858,
wherein he distinguished himself, for the period of twelve
years, up to October 17, 1870, when he resigned his post,--not
only as a most effective and reliable officer in routine
duties, but also by many suggestions and plans of enlarging
the utility of the force to the community in general.
For instance, we find in the New York World, of date
November 22, 1860, an article under the head "Information
to Railroad and Steamboat Passengers," which dilates, to
some considerable extent, and most complimentarily, upon
the beneficent results to the public of the operations of a
detachment of the police force, "called the Railroad and
Steamboat Squad," by which travellers visiting New York,
and passing through, were saved from the impositions and
robberies of ticket swindlers, hotel runners, unprincipled
boarding-house keepers, etc., by encountering the travellers
before they leave the cars and steamboats, and giving them
all requisite information in regard both to the swindlers,
and how best, most safely and economically to conduct
their sojourn in the city. The World's article concludes
with stating, that "this plan originated with Officer McWatters,
who, we know, was for a long time an efficient, and
one of the most popular officers attached to this section of
the force."

How well Officer McWatters performed his individual
duties in connection with this squad, might be illustrated
by the quotation of an article entitled "Personal," in the
Daily Tribune of July 7, 1860, which is most highly complimentary
of Officer McWatters, but is too long to be
incorporated here.
//035.png
.pn +1

Mr. McWatters' onerous vocation as a policeman did not
forbid his finding time for earnest participation in many
matters not pertaining to his special duties as an officer.
Indeed, it would seem that, with all his labors, he found
more time to devote to good causes outside of his police
duties than many men of leisure and benevolent spirit
think themselves able to bestow. It is said that none find
so little leisure time to do anything as the wholly indolent
and unoccupied, and the more a man has to do of daily labor,
the more time can he find to attend to extra calls upon his
services. Officer McWatters seems to have practicalized
this "doctrine," for, judging from the several hundred
extracts before us, taken from the New York journals for
the last ten years, one would be led to think that Officer
McWatters possessed the attribute or faculty of ubiquity,
for we find him "here, and there, and everywhere" in the
city, and without it, in attendance upon reform meetings;
or advocating humanitary measures from the rostrum, for
Officer McWatters is a forcible public speaker. The suffering
and starving people of Kansas (1861) we find elicited
his warm sympathies and active exertions in their behalf,
expressed by the practical mode of raising contributions for
their aid. In the Evening Post of October 2, 1861, we find
allusion to Officer McWatters as the Secretary of the Patriotic
Association of Metropolitan Police (of which, in conjunction
with the late Inspector Carpenter, if the writer is
not mistaken, Officer McWatters was the originator), which
was organized to afford support to the families of policemen
who joined the Metropolitan Brigade in the war for the
Union.


.sp 2
.h3 id=personalincidents
<sc>Personal Incidents.</sc>
.sp 1

Chancing to turn at this moment to the New York World
of March 14, 1861, the writer finds that on the day before
Officer McWatters "immersed" himself in the North River,
plunging in to rescue a six-years-old boy, who had fallen off
the dock. In the Sunday Mercury of April 7, five weeks
//036.png
.pn +1
after the occurrence last mentioned, we find Officer McWatters
aiding in the rescue of another boy from a watery
grave; and in the Daily Tribune of March 11, 1861, appears
the statement of still another rescue from drowning
by Officer McWatters, this time of a man, one Captain William
Vanname. We might extend, indefinitely, the list of
kindred good deeds by Officer McWatters, as gathered from
the public journals; but these will serve to show the fact
that he was always to be found in the line of his duty.
He was frequently saving life, or performing other noble
acts.--But we do not intend to dwell in detail upon the
professional life of Officer McWatters in his connection
with the Metropolitan Police. It is enough, perhaps, to
say in general terms, that he fulfilled his duties nobly well;
that from Superintendent Kennedy, under whom, for the
most part, he served, his official career received the very
warmest praise, and that the public press made frequent
complimentary mention of him all along the period of
about twelve years during which he was a member of
the Metropolitan Police force.

We might also refer for further evidence of Officer McWatters'
honorable performance of his official duties and
high standing in the force to the expressed opinion of the
late Superintendent Jourdan. This gentleman's judgment
of the merit of an officer's services was, of course, to a
great degree worthy of respect. But though the Latin
maxim is, "De mortuis nil nisi bonum" (say only good
of the dead), we are constrained to feel, that although
Superintendent Jourdan's praise had a certain professional
merit, yet his moral character was so questionable, that his
commendation of Officer McWatters could hardly add to
the merit of the latter, while his taste as a gentleman, and
his reverence for the honest and the true, would probably
induce him to prefer the non-production here of the former's
testimony.
//037.png
.pn +1



.sp 2
.h3 id=civilwar
<sc>Officer McWatters in the late Civil War: His Foresight.</sc>
.sp 1

Officer McWatters' earnest love of, and reverence for
the free institutions of the United States, are something
extraordinary, it would seem. Reared in the north of
Ireland, and having resided in London long enough to
thoroughly understand the miseries of the subject-classes
of that great metropolis and of England, Officer McWatters
was prepared, when he landed on our shores, to render
at least due appreciation to republican institutions; and
when the late civil war broke out, he entered into the conflict
against secession with all his soul. His anxiety to go
to the front at the breaking out of the rebellion, and take a
soldier's place in the struggle, was only equalled by the
bitter regret that he was prevented doing so by untoward
circumstances. But what service to the country he was
thus forbidden to do upon the field, he fully rendered, in
various forms, in his capacity as a most active and enthusiastic
patriot at home. Officer McWatters was not of that
"noble home guard," so justly and severely ridiculed at
the time, who urged others on to the war, and felt satisfied
with their achievements in so doing; but he was ever alert
in the discovery of ways and means to serve the government,
perhaps more effectively than if he had been in the
ranks on the field, or had headed a regiment in battle; for
if Officer McWatters had gone to the field, such are his
temperament, popularity, and capacity, that he could not
long have held a position second to that of many men who
gained distinction and led New York regiments and brigades--to
say nothing of superior leaders.

He was of the number of those (few, indeed, they may
properly be said to have been), who, in the early part of
the rebellion, took anything like an adequate preview
of its results. It appears that, early in the war, he wrote
a letter to the press, in which is clearly stated his opinion,
that the war "can have no less result than the abolition of
//038.png
.pn +1
negro slavery." He was prepared for this: implicitly
believing in it, he ordered his conduct thereby, and
throughout the contest manifested an enthusiasm proportionate
to the mighty victory for humanity which he
so clearly foresaw was to be won.



.sp 2
.h3 id=firstseizure
<sc>First Seizure of Guns at the North.</sc>
.sp 1

Always vigilant, and, everywhere that he was able, ready
and prompt to serve the government, it must have been a
matter of proud satisfaction to Officer McWatters when he
made the first seizure of guns which occurred at the North
during the war, and which guns were intended by their
Northern consignors--sympathizers with the rebellion--to
be used by their Southern consignees to shoot down the
patriot forces. This seizure is thus recorded in the Tribune
of May 12, 1861:--

"The vigilance of the police was yesterday evinced by
the seizure of four nine-pound Dahlgren guns by Officer
McWatters, of the Steamboat and Railroad Police, on Pier
No. 3, North River."

It will be recollected by all who watched the current
affairs of the war, that it was in regard to this seizure by
Officer McWatters, that Fernando Wood, then Mayor of
New York, so infamously and cowardly made an unasked
apology to Robert Toombs of Georgia. Communication
with the South was not at that time suspended, and he
telegraphed to the secessionist his regrets at the seizure,
and added assurance that if he had had control of the
police the guns should be restored, or that he would have
forbidden the seizure. Such was the substance of his telegram.
But fortunately for the honor of the nation, as well
as of the city of New York, the control of the police had,
before that time, been taken from Mayor Wood. But his
telegram sent a thrill of shame through all patriotic hearts,
and added a new lustre to the merit of Officer McWatters'
deed, by the contrast in which it placed the two men,--the
dutiful, freedom-loving police officer, and the poor
//039.png
.pn +1
creature who, having escaped the issues of a criminal trial
by pleading the statute of limitations, had been borne on
the shoulders of a "Sixth Ward brigade" of repeating
voters to the questionable height of the Mayoralty of
New York.

It is, perhaps, worthy of note here that the virtues of
Fernando Wood have since been duly rewarded by an appreciative
constituency in New York, who have sent him
for several terms as their fit representative to the Congress
of the nation. It is seldom that the historiographer has
the opportunity of recording such a lofty expression of the
"gratitude of republics;" and the writer hereof takes
especial pleasure in fixing it here "in eternal types."
Officer McWatters' due reproof for the seizure is fitly
found in the fact, that a noble constituency like Wood's,
would, if they could, have annihilated him for the deed.



.sp 2
.h3 id=servicesthrough
<sc>Officer McWatters' Services through the Public Press.</sc>
.sp 1

Not only at his post of official duty was it that Officer
McWatters rendered efficient service to the government,
but throughout the war we find him frequently making
noble appeals for aid to the Union in one form or another,
or setting forth some judicious plan of operations to secure
the same, in able and spirited letters to the Evening Post,
the Tribune, etc. It should give the writer pleasure to
copy some of these letters herein, especially one which
appeared in the Evening Post of October 2, 1861, but
the limits of these biographical notes forbid.

In the Tribune of August 5, 1864, appeared a letter from
Officer McWatters, from which, notwithstanding our narrow
limits, we cannot forbear to make a short quotation, since
it so well evinces his spirit, both as a man and a writer, as
well as his lofty appreciation of the honor and glory of his
adopted country's institutions. A portion of the letter is
addressed to working-men, urging them to loan to the nation,
in its hour of peril, such sums of money as they could
//040.png
.pn +1
save; and the letter concludes with these noble words:
"Fellow Working-men: I have, by hard scraping, saved one
hundred dollars. I am going to lend it to the government.
I ask you, in the name of humanity and patriotism, to 'go
and do likewise.' Your country demands your assistance;
respond generously, quickly; think of the proud eminence
on which you stand before the working-men of the world,--<i>as
American citizens!</i>--and acquit yourselves as though
you felt your dignity."

.sp 2
.h3 id=kindlyand
<sc>Kindly and Wise Providence.</sc>
.sp 1

Often is it, perhaps, that little deeds of gentle and silent
charity, care for the suffering, and unostentatious benevolence,
speak more eloquently for the heart of a true man,
than those of valor on the field of battle in the noblest
cause. In the Tribune of June 1, 1863, is copied a certain
appeal made a day or two before, and which we recopy
below:--

"<sc>To the Police of New York</sc>: Thousands of soldiers--your
fellow-countrymen--are now lying in the hospitals
about Washington, suffering from wounds received in battle.
Their chief torment is a craving thirst; water is unwholesome,
and cannot be given in quantities sufficient to
satisfy the craving. The only safe and effectual remedy is
found in the juice of lemons, and for a supply of this fruit
the kindness of individuals must be appealed to. Twenty-five
cents from each member of the force would afford
incalculable relief to those who now pine for the want of
this simple luxury. Will you help? All money paid over
to Inspector Carpenter for this purpose will reach its destination
immediately."

This appeal, effectively "displayed" (in the job-printer's
parlance), and printed upon small handbills, was secretly
circulated among the police, and soon resulted in a contribution
by them of the unexpectedly large sum of over six
hundred dollars, for lemons for the sick soldiers. Though
a small affair in the matter of money, it proved a great one
//041.png
.pn +1
in other considerations. It was not only a beneficent act,
but a very judicious one. From whom the appeal emanated
was a profound secret among the police, until, on the 8th
of June, 1863, there appeared in the Tribune a notice of a
"report" by the late Inspector Carpenter, in which, referring
to this matter, he says: "To Patrolman McWatters, of
the Twenty-Sixth Precinct, is due the credit of projecting
this trifling donation from this department to relieve the
sufferings of our sick and wounded soldiers."

In many other quiet and effective ways Officer McWatters
administered to the comfort of our soldiers and their families
during the war, but we have not space to recall them
here. Some of them became known, from time to time, and
were recorded in the public journals of the day.



.sp 2
.h3 id=riotweek
<sc>"Riot Week," July, 1863: Officer McWatters in the Thick of the Fight.</sc>
.sp 1

During the whole war nothing of a more fearful nature
to the cause of the Union occurred than the great riot in
New York city, which commenced on Monday, the 13th of
July, 1863, and was not subdued until the following Friday.
The people of the North were, to a considerable extent,
becoming weary of the war, and thousands, if not
tens of thousands, who had previously exhibited a good degree
of sturdy patriotism, began to wane in their vigor and
firmness of purpose, and were ready to "let the rebels go
in peace hereafter." But the facts of those perilous days
are too fresh in the memory of all to need recital here.
The rioters were exultant, and the people stood aghast for
a while; but finally the Metropolitan Police force obtained
ascendency over the surging elements of the local rebellion,
and brought back peace to the city again. But this was
not done without more severe effort and a greater destruction
of life than was generally understood by the country
at large at that time.

Before us is a book, entitled "Record of the Police during
the July Riots, 1863," by David M. Barnes, in the
//042.png
.pn +1
preface of which the author, speaking of the slaughters
during those days, says, "The number killed by the police
and military in the different conflicts, when alone and
united, can never be ascertained; it is estimated by those
who witnessed the scenes, and had the best opportunity of
judging, at fourteen hundred. The bodies of those killed
on the spot were hurriedly taken off, and in many cases
conveyed out of the city, or secreted here, and privately
buried. Cases of subsequent deaths from wounds, it is
known, were attributed to other causes. Eighteen persons
are known to have been killed by the rioters, eleven of
whom were colored."

We confess ourselves somewhat astonished at so large
an estimate of the number killed during the riot; but those
were horrible days, indeed, and the estimate is, we think,
quite probably within the limits of the truth. The book
was published in September, 1863, it appears,--a date a
sufficiently long time after the riots to have allowed much
careful investigation to have been made. Among the other
heroes of those days, whom the author signalizes by especial
mention by name,--Commissioner Acton, Superintendent
Kennedy, Commissioner Bergen, Chief Clerk Hawley,
Inspectors Carpenter, Dilks, and Leonard, etc.,--is found
our chief subject, as brave, active, earnest, and efficient in
the midst of a deathly struggle, as he is ever gentle, kind,
and tender in his silent ministrations to the sick, sore, and
suffering in the days of peace. On page eighty-two of the
book referred to, and where the special history of the conduct
of the police of the Twenty-Sixth Precinct is detailed
in regard to their conflicts with the mob in the City Hall
Park, Printing House Square, and the Tribune Office, the
author says,--

"No mercy was shown, and over a hundred lay in the
square and park, the well-punished victims of their own
folly and crime. While the mob were being thus terribly
handled in the street, some of the force turned their attention
to the Tribune Building, fighting their way to, and
//043.png
.pn +1
entering it. The fire had just been lighted, and was readily
extinguished. Officer McWatters, on entering the door,
was assaulted by a burly ruffian, armed with a hay-rung,
who, by a powerful blow on the shoulder, knocked him
down; instantly on his feet again, he more than repaid, on
the heads of the rioters, the blow. The building was
cleared speedily, and not a man in it escaped without
severe punishment."

But it is unnecessary to extend comment upon the career
of Officer McWatters, as related to the active operations
of the war. As a patriot, his name is not only "without
spot or blemish," but is one of which the best of citizens
might be proud, and of which only such could have made
themselves worthy.


.sp 2
.h3 id=literary
<sc>Officer McWatters and his Literary Associates.</sc>
.sp 1

Before passing on, in direct course, to the most interesting
portion of Officer McWatters' life, in which the character
of the man, in his intensely benevolent nature, is most
beautifully and nobly illustrated in a thousand ways, we
pause here to revert to him as a gentleman of general
literary tastes, and to his friendly and genial associations
with men of letters. Mr. McWatters, in his almost countless
letters, and other contributions to the public press, has ever
seemed to avoid anything like notoriety,--to be, in short,
quite unambitious to secure to himself anything like popular
distinction by his pen; for nearly all his contributions to
the press have been unaccompanied by his name, and when
not literally anonymous, published over various <i>sobriquets</i>,
known only to a few of his friends at most. Not a
few of his most intimate acquaintances will doubtless be
surprised when the spirited and elegant series of articles
which he now gives to the world in "Knots Untied" reveal
to them the man in his higher literary estate, so unostentatious
has he been, and so little merit did his modesty
permit him to attach to the articles in question, until diffidently
submitted by him to the inspection of a few of his
//044.png
.pn +1
critical literary friends, who, delighted with their engaging
style, and appreciating their practical worth, urged the
half-astonished author to give them to the public, as a duty
he owed to his fellow-citizens.

His course has been altogether a too modest one (if we
be permitted to speak in criticism thereof). But, for his
own private happiness, Mr. McWatters has never failed to
appreciate the society of literary men, and notwithstanding
his multiplied duties, official and humanitary, has always
managed to find time to cultivate the acquaintance of the
most gifted and distinguished literateurs, artists, and so
forth, who, during the last fifteen years especially, have
given lustre to the great metropolis. A genial man, a good
story-teller, courteous under all circumstances, full of sparkling
intelligence, generous to an extreme degree, a man of
excellent habits as well as refined sentiments, he has
always been welcomed by these men of lettered distinction,
to whom we refer above.

And here we should be pleased to introduce the names
of the most remarkable of Mr. McWatters' literary associates,
up to the year 1871, as illustrative of the good taste
of our subject. But the record would be too long for
place here; besides, we might, while reciting the names of
some, fail, through fault of memory, in this hasty writing,
to recall those equally worthy of record here. But we
have at hand an article clipped from the New York Illustrated
News of August 2, 1862, in which is arrayed a list of
many of those who at that time were distinguished lights
in the literary world, and some of whom have achieved
imperishable honors since, while others of the number have
been gathered to their fathers--borne to their tombs in
the "laureate hearse," after having won and borne upon
their brows the bays of many a literary victory.

The article in question descants upon "Pfaff's;" and its
literary, artistic, and other distinguished <i>habitues</i>. But we
will quote it entire for the reader's pleasure, and information,
possibly, as well:--
//045.png
.pn +1
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"As so much has been said in the papers, from time to time, about
'Pfaff's,' it may be well to state that the name is descriptive, simply, of a
'restaurant and lager bier saloon,' kept at No. 647 Broadway, by a Teuton
of that name, and which, partly from its central position, and partly
from the excellence of its fare, has been such a favorite resort, for several
years, for artists, literateurs, actors, managers, editors, critics, politicians,
and other public characters, as to have become quite famous. It
is not, as has been often reported, the rendezvous of a particular clique
or club of Bohemians (whatever they may be), but simply a general and
convenient meeting-place for cultivated men, and one where, almost
any evening, you may meet representatives of nearly every branch of
literature and art, assembled, not by appointment, nor from habit even,
but 'met by chance, the usual way.' Among the literary men whom we
have met there from time to time, during the last three or four years, may
be mentioned Walt Whitman, Aldrich, Winter, Stoddard, Bayard Taylor,
W. Ross Wallace, W. D. Howells, Frank Otterson, Charles Dawson
Shanly, W. H. Fry, Edward Howland, Charles Seymour, 'Doesticks,'
'Artemus Ward,' 'Figaro,' T. C. Evans, E. C. Stedman, Charles F.
Briggs, E. G. P. Wilkins, Charles Gayler, J. V. Sears, Harry Neill, E.
H. House, Frank Wood, C. Burkhardt, Rosenberg, A. F. Banks, 'Walter
Barret,' George Arnold, Charles D. Gardette, 'Howard of the Times,'
and Thad. Glover; among artists, Stillman, Palmer, Launt, Thompson,
Cafferty, G. H. Hall, Shattuck, Innis, Sewell, Henessy, Loop, Avery,
Frank Howland, Homer Martin, Eastman Johnson, Bierstadt, Van
Beest, Hitchings, Bellew, Mullen, Anthony, Eytinge, Nast, Baker, Sontag,
Boughton, Rowse; and of other well-known characters, Ullman, Strakosch,
Maretzek, Grau, Stigelli, Mollenbaur, H. L. Bateman, Nixon,
Dolly Davenport, Davidge, Young, Fisher, Floyd, Reynolds, Stuart,
Moss, Chanfrau, Mason, the Hanlons, Officer McWatters, J. Augustus
Page, Gill Davis, Schauss, Seitz, Brisbane, Dr. Wainwright, etc., etc., including
a good number of politicians, and that large class of people, called
Germans, without end."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

Of this goodly host, the gifted Wilkins; Fry, the erudite,
then so distinguished in the editorial and musical world;
Arnold, the genial young essayist, poet, and humorist;
"Artemus Ward," and perhaps others, long since made
their last visit to Pfaff's--their lights of life going out in
the peaceful darkness of death, while "their literary
torches burn on,"--"stars which gleam forever."

And other of these,--Whitman, Stedman, Howells, Aldrich,
and Edward Howland, for especial example--(the
last four being, in 1862, of the very youngest of the above
array), and Bierstadt, Shattuck, etc., have climbed to the
//046.png
.pn +1
top of Parnassian heights, won bright and solid victories
in the field of prose as essayists, historians, etc., or transferred
nature to the canvas with that beauty and sublimity
of artistic truthfulness which have commanded for them
the admiration of the world.

It is with these men, and others of equal order of intellectual
and social gifts, that Officer McWatters has passed
most of his leisure hours for many years; thus keeping
his genial nature and bright intelligence free from the corrosion
and canker which eat into the moral and intellectual
vitals of the mere business man; and preserving himself
physically, too, fresh and buoyant as youth itself.
The great number of personal souvenirs which Officer
McWatters' author friends have presented him, in the
shape of copies of their respective works, constitute
quite a "library" in themselves,--a pleasing recognition,
grateful to himself and his family, of the excellent social
merits, intellect, and moral worth of the man and the
officer.


.sp 2
.h3 id=goodsamaritan
<sc>Officer McWatters as the Good Samaritan.</sc>
.sp 1

Whatever are our subject's merits otherwise, as a man
and an officer, and extreme though was his patriotic zeal
during the late civil war, and to which he gave practical
expression in the wisest and noblest ways, all these has he
eclipsed, and rendered comparatively unworthy of note,
by his career since the war as a Good Samaritan, a practical
"Home Missionary" (if it be not derogatory to apply
to him a designation, however kindly, which usually signifies
but little more than a sectarian proselyter of one
school or another). Always interested in social problems,
Officer McWatters is too intelligent not to fully understand
that the fragmentary reforms and the ordinary great charities
of the times can never subdue the evils which his heart
would abate and banish from society forever. Indeed, it is
the opinion of the writer, (however little this may accord
with Officer McWatters' views, or however opposed he may
//047.png
.pn +1
be to so radical sentiments, for herein the writer speaks for
himself and no one else), that the availability of charity
towards abolishing evil is but pitiable at best. Giving the
beggar an old coat, only to be called on by some other beggar
for a like coat, and never seeking to abolish beggary
and its attendant sufferings by some judicious means of
abolishing beggars themselves, by destroying the causes
which create them, is unscientific, paltry, and in every way
unwise at best.

It is only about nineteen hundred years since the advent
of Christianity; and perhaps not over two hundred
and fifty millions of people at the present time profess to
be Christians, and belong to some of the symbolized divisions
of the church, while may be not over three hundred
millions more profess to be Christians in spirit; and not
much of good could well be expected to grow up in so
short a time, and with so few advocates to encourage it;
yet the writer confesses that, in some of his weaker moods,
he is astonished after all that something has not been done
by Christian people to abolish the proximate and fruitful
cause of nearly all the crimes and sufferings, namely, poverty.
The sufferings of the poor in New York, for example,
are terrible to contemplate; and the much-boasted
great charities of the metropolis are directed only to temporary
relief of the sufferers. This is their highest aspiration
even. They proclaim no desire to do more, at best,
than to smooth the bed of the sick, and procure "places"
for children (to grow up and work for others in), or situations
for this woman or that poor man out of employment.

The right of these children and these poor men and
women to live at all, and the duty of society to guarantee
to the individual the enjoyment of that right, are wholly
ignored by them. Year after year they perform their
patchwork charities with a patience which would be commendable
in the pursuit of science, and which, while it
//048.png
.pn +1
astonishes the writer at its stupidity, nevertheless commands
from him, as he cheerfully confesses, a sort of respect,
if not admiration; for many of these charity-doers
are really the best of people at heart, and would doubtless,
if they knew how, do better, act more wisely. But they
are ignorant of better means than they use; and, in fact,
it has never occurred to them that better and wiser means
ought to be, or could be taken than those they employ, to
assuage human suffering.

With his study and understanding of sociology, Officer
McWatters must necessarily see, we think, and painfully
feel, how meagre and pitiful are the amends which charity
makes to those victims whom society has robbed of their
rights; and his sense of this must constantly operate to
weaken his courage and chill his enthusiasm in the cause
of petty or "patchwork" charities. Yet withal so abundant
is his good nature, so sensitive his sympathies, that
years do not seem to abate his zeal therein at all; and
here is the wonder. He keeps on in his good works,
though the institutions of society multiply the sufferings
he would abate, and bring to his door ten new sufferers
<i>because</i> he has just aided one old one. As long as such
souls as McWatters' continue doing their good deeds, so
long will the rapacious and extortionate thank them, and
continue to create victims for them to practise their humanity
upon. The landlord, whose tenant is poor and sick,
is very grateful, of course, to the "charitable society"
which helps his tenant to pay the rent; and it is a question
with the writer, sometimes, if it were not better that
the kind and tender-hearted benefactors of the poor were
less numerous; for if the poor were goaded on by suffering
a little further, they might, dispelling the mists of
ever-fallacious "hope" from before their eyes, come to
see their rights, and demand them.

It is to the advantage of the master to feed his chattel-slave
sufficiently well to keep him in good strength for
work. Charity, under direction of the masters in society,
//049.png
.pn +1
feeds the working classes only up to the point of usefulness
as wages-slaves. It is cheaper for a given present time to
keep a poor man in a working condition than it is to let him
starve to death, and so incur the expense of burying him.
That expresses the <i>morale</i> of the master-classes' "consideration"
of the subject-classes; and here in the United
States the "tender love" of the strong for the weak is
just as marked as in other lands, perhaps; but, alas! no
more so, notwithstanding our boasted love of "liberty
and right."

But we remarked that Officer McWatters must understand
all this, and yet pursues his constant course of charities.
Not for the wisdom (or the lack of it, as the case
may be) which prompts or permits him to do the thousand
acts of benevolence for which he is noted, is it that he commands
so much of our admiration, but for that tireless
sympathy and wondrous vitality of benevolence (so to
characterize it) which ever bestir him, notwithstanding
his clear understanding that he will, and can alone, only
mitigate effects, and not cure causes; that he is "carrying
coals to Newcastle" all the while, or is putting one brick
on a pile, only to see a dozen fall therefrom; and this,
though he repeats it day after day.

As we have before remarked, Officer McWatters is not
a rich man, save in his own good nature and the affection
of his multitudinous friends; and <i>his</i> charities mean something
to his purse, drawing from it constantly whatever
he can find time or opportunity to place there; for, if the
writer is correctly informed, Officer McWatters has never
received a cent for his multifarious labors in connection
with any of the several organized charities to which he
is attached. As a member of the Metropolitan Police
he received his salary, rendering therefor his full duty;
and this was all he had to support himself and family upon;
and that was constantly depleted by his benevolence, as
we have remarked before. In view of these facts, Officer
McWatters is elevated, in our esteem, to the rank of the
//050.png
.pn +1
Howards, and the other marked philanthropists of the
world.


.sp 2
.h3 id=soldiers
<sc>McWatters and the Soldiers.</sc>
.sp 1

During the late civil war, as we have said, Officer
McWatters took a deep and patriotic interest in the conflict.
This was manifested in many ways, particularly
towards the soldiers and their families; and he has not forgotten
them since. Whatever the reader may think of a
man who in this age allows himself to go deliberately into
a contest, the avowed purpose of which is to maim and
kill his fellow-men, for any cause; or what he may think
of that order of society which compels a man to enlist in
a cause of cruelty and blood (as hosts of men were driven
into the rebel ranks at the point of the bayonet, or by
conscription, or want of something else to do, however remonstrating),
ought to have but little bearing upon the case
of the veteran soldier now.

Our Northern soldiers went to the war with the assurance
of the public press, and the declaration of hundreds
of thousands of those who remained at home, but who
gathered in crowds ("to see the soldiers <i>off</i>") at the
places of departure, that they should, on their return, receive
the gratitude of those for whom they fought. Promises
were abundant, and the poor, confiding fellows for the
most part believed them, and on the battle-field found consolation
for their hardships and dangers in the love of
those they had left behind, and which, poured forth in unstinted
measure on their return, was to be their "good
and abundant reward." Poor fellows! they have learned,
for the most part, the value of their countrymen's love;
they have learned how priceless is the glory of an arm or
a leg lost, since it secures for them, who only had precarious
homes before, a permanent home in the poor-house,
or has led them to the due consideration of the virtue of
economy; the estimable and superior value of rags over
the whole coats they used to wear; of temperance in eating,
and other like virtues. Very few care for the "veteran
//051.png
.pn +1
soldier" now, and his family is left to starve with those
of other paupers, or with those of the imprisoned criminal.
This is the sad truth; and were another civil war to arise
to-day, probably but very few of the old rank and file, who
are still strong and able, would muster around the standard
again, but would generously suggest to those who remained
at home before, that they might now win all the
victories, and enjoy all the glory.

But there are a few in the community who have not
forgotten the maimed veterans and their suffering families;
and chief among these few is Officer McWatters; for
we hazard nothing in saying, that, all things considered,
there cannot be found another person, male or female, in
the whole land, who has done more for the poor soldiers
and their families than he. He seems to be impelled
in his constant care for them by what amounts to almost a
generous frenzy, and which might so be denominated
were it not that his deeds in their behalf are always directed
by wisdom; it is a passion, at least, with him; the
poetry of his current life.



.sp 2
.h3 id=ladiesunion
<sc>Ladies' Union Relief Association.</sc>
.sp 1

Officer McWatters is an active member of several charitable
organizations; but that under which the greater
share of his benevolent deeds have been done for the last
five or six years during which he has been connected with
it, is the Ladies' Union Relief Association. This is an organization,
under the directorship of several benevolent
ladies of distinguished social position in New York, such
as the wives of Messrs. Marshall O. Roberts, Ex-Mayor
Havemeyer, Dr. Joseph Worster, Henry Dwight, J. A.
Kennedy (President), William E. Churchill, etc., with
Miss Evelina S. Hamilton, as Corresponding Secretary,
Miss Madeline McKibben, Recording Secretary, and Miss
Marianna Hale, Treasurer of the Association. This organization
has an advisory board, composed of Generals
Dix, Van Vliet, Butler, Rev. Drs. Chapin and Thompson,
//052.png
.pn +1
Hon. W. F. Havemeyer, Drs. Herrick and Worster, Messrs.
Theodore Roosevelt, George Bliss, Jr., William E. Dodge,
Jr., and many other distinguished gentlemen. But the
chief and most active man of the board is our subject,
Officer George S. McWatters, with whom, and his constant
aid, this benevolent Association would not willingly
part.

The Ladies' Union Relief Association undertake to
assist the sick and disabled veteran soldiers and their
families, and the families of deceased soldiers; and their
self-imposed duties are very onerous, and a vast amount
of charitable work do they, visiting the sick and taking to
them the necessaries of life, paying their rents, clothing the
children; finding places of employment for the ex-soldier,
or his widow, or family; furnishing this or that one means
of transportation to the far West, for example, when
offered a home there with some relative, etc., etc. These
duties are constant. The field is always a large one; and
in a season like that of 1870-71, when business is dull,
and employment is scarce, the poor of New York suffer
extremely. It is in such a season that the relations of
poverty to the wealth which its labors have created (for
the workers are ever the poor), is seen in painful relief
upon the face of society.

In the performance of his voluntarily assumed duties
under this Association, Officer McWatters found nearly all
his time, aside from that strictly required by his official
duties, occupied, nights as well as days. At the police
headquarters, where he held a detailed position, the poor
and suffering flocked to him during the day for advice
and succor; and when off duty as a policeman, he gave
his time to visiting and aiding them in their squalid
homes.

The Ex-Superintendent Kennedy cordially seconded
Officer McWatters in his benevolent work, and gave him
every facility for receiving the poor at the police office.
In this way he was enabled, while fulfilling his duties as
//053.png
.pn +1
a policeman, to gratify his heart with kindly attention to
the poor. But eventually Superintendent Kennedy was
superseded by Mr. Jourdan. Jourdan was, it would appear,
an unfeeling man. He refused to let the soldiers visit
the headquarters in search of Officer McWatters, and
declared that they were "dirty, and smelled bad," and that
he would no longer suffer them to come. Thus Officer
McWatters' mendicant clientage was prohibited consulting
with him during the hours of police duty, and he felt
that his dearest, most cherished "occupation," was almost
"gone." His sphere of pleasant, though onerous duties,
was limited, and he fretted under the restraint of the rule
which prevented the poor to approach him--a man whom
the Rev. Dr. Bellows declares, when referring to the poor
soldiers, to be "one of their few steady, laborious, and
judicious benefactors."

But death came, and laid Superintendent Jourdan in the
grave--the common earth--as lowly as the graves of
the "dirty," poor soldiers whom he despised. It is a significant
fact that this man Jourdan's remains were followed
to the tomb by many distinguished citizens of New York,--politicians,
men of wealth and professional good standing,
and others. But perhaps it is not so strange after all that
he should have been so honored in New York, for Fernando
Wood has been mayor of the city; and many who
have grown rich by political thieving are kept in office,
and Jim Fisk, Jr., is not only suffered to live within the
city limits, but has been elected to the post of colonel
of the Ninth Regiment, and is actually extolled by great
numbers of the people. Crime is no great stain to any man
in New York if he but have money, or is in the "line" of
making it fast. The city's moral worth reposes, for the
most part now, with the few members of the churches who
are what they profess to be, and with the benevolent and
Christian women,--comparatively few in number,--like
those of the Ladies' Union Relief Association, and the few
Howards, whose best representative is <target id='tn052'>Officer McWatters.
//054.png
.pn +1

Jourdan's death, however, did not abate the unjust rule
he had made, forbidding the poor to seek their friends at
the headquarters of the police, and Officer McWatters, unwilling
longer to follow for a livelihood a calling by which
he was prevented from honoring the dictates of his heart
by doing all which he might do in some other vocation
for the poor soldiers and their families, determined on resigning
his post. While he was casting about for such a
position, some of his friends, among whom were Rev. Dr.
Bellows, President of the United States Sanitary Commission
(and who cheerfully says of Officer McWatters, "The
evidence is overwhelming that few private persons have
given so much time and effectual aid to the friendless
class as he"), Wm. Cullen Bryant, and other gentlemen
of high character; and the ladies of the Relief Association,
who were unwilling to part with his invaluable
coöperation, sought, for Officer McWatters, a place in the
custom-house, where the lingering sway of no heartless
Jourdan would oppress him. Officer McWatters' desire
being made known to Collector Murphy, he, be it said
to his honor, immediately and generously offered him
a situation which would enable him to earn his living,
and continue his benevolent work; and on the 17th
of October, 1870, Officer McWatters tendered the resignation
of his place as policeman to the Commissioners,
by the following letter, a copy of which we
take from the New York Dispatch of the 23d of that
month:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ll -2
.rj
"<sc>New York</sc>, October 17, 1870.
.ll +2

.ti 0
"<i>To the Hon. Board of Police Commissioners of New York.</i>

"<sc>Gentlemen</sc>: I beg respectfully to offer my resignation as a patrol policeman,
the same to take effect on Tuesday, October 18, 1870.

"This step has been rendered necessary for the following reasons: I
have been prohibited by your representative, the late Superintendent, from
employing my spare time in the fulfilment of a duty which, in common
with all good citizens, I owe to the defenders of our country, the sick and
disabled soldiers, and to the widows and orphans of those who perished in
the late war; and being determined to fulfil that duty, I have obtained employment
//055.png
.pn +1
elsewhere, under circumstances that will enable me to continue
to assist and advise these poor people.

"Respectfully asking your acceptance of my resignation, I remain,
gentlemen, yours, &c.,

.ll -2
.rj
"<sc>George S. McWatters</sc>."
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

The public journals of the times made most complimentary
allusion to Officer McWatters when noticing his withdrawal
from the police force and acceptance of a post in the
custom-house. They spoke of him--but perhaps it were
well to let some of them "speak for themselves." We reproduce
here the following (all we have space for in this
article) from the New York Evening Post and the Daily
Times. The former remarked thus:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"The resignation of George S. McWatters deprives the police force of
one of its most faithful and efficient members; but, on the other hand, it
enables Mr. McWatters to continue his benevolent and gratuitous services
in behalf of the wounded soldiers, and the widows and orphans of those
who fell during the late war. Mr. McWatters proposes to open an office,
under the auspices of the Ladies' Union Relief Association, and of General
Butler, in his capacity of President of the Board of Managers of the National
Homes for Disabled Soldiers, where, at certain hours each day, he
can be consulted, and will offer relief and assistance. There is now no
place in this city where this class of persons can get advice without paying
roundly for it, and running the danger of falling into the hands of unprincipled
claim agents. Mr. McWatters intends to give his service gratuitously
in this good cause, as he has been doing for the last five or six years.
He is now filling an office in the custom-house, and Collector Murphy has
shown his discriminating good sense in making the appointment."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

The Times said:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"The appointment of Mr. George S. McWatters to the position of
storekeeper, under the New York custom-house, was most judicious, and
will be heartily approved by those who are familiar with the man and his
good deeds. He has been connected with the police department of the
city for the past twelve years, and never had a charge preferred against
him in all that time. Since the war, in addition to his police duties, he
has been an indefatigable worker for the interests of sick and disabled soldiers,
and the families of those who died in battle. Hundreds of cases
have been investigated by him, and relief obtained for the unfortunate in
scores of instances. For these services Mr. McWatters received no remuneration
whatever, save the gratitude of those who were the object of
his beneficence. His merits were recognized by the collector, and hence
the offer of an appointment, which was accepted a few days after."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1
//056.png
.pn +1

Thus it was that Officer McWatters ended his connection
with the Metropolitan Police, with the honor of the
public for his faithfulness and efficiency as an officer, and
the applause of all good people for his benevolence and
laborious services in the cause of philanthropy. This
brings us to the month of October, 1870; since which
time Officer McWatters has been attending to his duties
as an officer in the custom-house, and pursuing his career
as a "Good Samaritan" as usual.


.sp 3
.h3 id=swindlingbounty
<sc>The Swindling Bounty Claim Agents.</sc>
.sp 1

In these biographical notes it has not been attempted
to preserve chronological order throughout, as the reader
has observed, and we now revert to sundry important
facts in Officer McWatters' history, which have been
passed over by us without allusion. Perhaps the chief
service which McWatters has rendered to the soldiers is
the successful war he waged against the Bounty Claim
Agents in 1868-69. As the law regarding bounties then
stood, the agents were able to grossly swindle the soldiers.
And many of these agents, all over the land, and
probably the most of them, did swindle them. To appreciate
the full merit of Officer McWatters in circumventing
the swindling agents, it is necessary to understand how
they operated with poor soldiers; and as we find in the
New York Times of March 21, 1869, a <target id='tn056'>succinct explanation
of their mode of operations, we transfer a portion of the
article containing it to these pages. It will be found interesting
as an item in the history of the times (as well as
a comment upon the beauties of civilization in general).
The article is headed "Bounty Swindlers," and goes on
to say:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"Herman, who is well known as a former claim agent in this city, is
now at large, under forfeited bail of ten thousand dollars, for swindling
discharged soldiers, who were credulous enough to trust him, out of their
well-deserved bounties. It is estimated by the authorities that he made
nearly twenty thousand dollars by these operations, which he has so carefully
disposed of that it cannot be recovered by his unfortunate victims.
//057.png
.pn +1
There are, perhaps, fifty others of the same stripe in this city, who have
gathered small fortunes by thus defrauding the soldier or his widow and
orphans.

"To protect the soldiers from these sharks, Mr. French, Second Auditor
of the Treasury Department at Washington, has, from time to time,
suspended all business transactions with them. This had the effect of
stopping the frauds for a while, but the swindlers soon found a method of
overcoming the obstruction. This they did by procuring willing tools
through whom they operated as successfully as ever.

"There are said to be thousands of dishonest agents all over the United
States, who are continually engaged in this nefarious business. They are
principally lawyers who have no reputation to lose, and who, therefore,
are indifferent to public opinion.

"The <i>modus operandi</i> by which these swindles are carried on is as follows:
A. is a discharged soldier, B. the claim agent. A. calls on B., and
requests him to procure his bounty money for him. A. is informed that,
in order to enforce his claim, it will be necessary for him to intrust B.
with his certificate of honorable discharge, to be forwarded to Washington
as a voucher. Thus far the transaction is legitimate; but now comes the
trickery. B. further informs A. that there is another paper to be forwarded
with the discharge, a blank, which he (A.) must sign. It is merely
a matter of form, B. says, which the government requires, for some reason
best known to itself. The signature is given, and the soldier goes away,
assured that within a few days his check will be ready for him. The paper
to which, in his ignorance, A. signed his name, turns out to be an
absolute power of attorney conferred upon B., not only to enforce the
claim, but also to indorse the draft when it is received, and to collect the
money therefor at the bank. Thus authorized, B. draws the cash at the
proper time, puts it into his own pocket, and keeps it there. A. calls for
his money at the appointed time, but is put off with the excuse that the
return has not yet been made by the department at Washington. This
explanation is repeated each time that A. calls, until, finally, he becomes
suspicious of unfair dealing, and peremptorily demands either his certificate
or the bounty. As a rule, this demand leads to the speedy unfolding
of the base villany. B. acknowledges that he has collected the money,
and adds that he has spent it, but that he will refund it as soon as he is
able to do so. The claim agent having acted by full power of attorney in
the matter, cannot be prosecuted criminally, and the only remedy open to
the victimized soldier is a civil suit for the recovery of the amount of his
claim. The remedy is ineffectual, however, by reason of the fact that the
swindler has no property out of which to satisfy judgment, and the soldier
being too poor to prosecute the case, the affair ends at this point.

"There are now in the Second Auditor's office as many as sixty-five
thousand unsettled bounty claims, representing about four millions five
hundred thousand dollars, and by the recent passage of another bounty
act, that sum will soon be augmented by nearly five hundred thousand
dollars. It will thus be seen that, unless some measures are taken by the
//058.png
.pn +1
government to prevent it, five million dollars more will pass into the hands
of swindling agents, to the great loss of those for whose benefit it was intended."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

But long before this article appeared in the Times, Officer
McWatters had been reflecting upon a measure for
rescuing the poor soldiers from the despoiling grasp of the
agents. He had laid his plans before the Ladies' Union
Relief Association, and the good ladies, at once appreciating
it, commissioned him to go, in the name of the Association,
to Washington, and procure, if possible, the immediate
carrying out of his plan, which consisted of certain
changes in the law. He went at once to the Capital, and
called upon President Grant, who kindly received him, and
to whom he unfolded his plan. The Military Committee of
the Senate were also visited, and they, as the President
had likewise done, gave Mr. McWatters assurances of their
sympathy with his designs, which they proceeded to
directly express, by a proposed change in the law, which
was in due time made. Messrs. Wilson and Howe of the
Senate, General Butler and General Logan of the House,
were particularly earnest and active in aiding Officer
McWatters to accomplish his great aim in this matter. A
resolution "for the protection of soldiers and their heirs,"
according to Officer McWatters' plan, after passing both
Houses of Congress, received the approval of the President,
and became a law on the 10th of April, 1869, and thousands
of soldiers have since blessed their ever warm and
judicious friend, McWatters, for one of the very best deeds
that has been done in their behalf since the war. Lodges
of the Grand Army of the Republic, in all parts of the
country, passed votes of compliment and gratitude to him;
and the press, also, was everywhere laudatory of him.

The new law forbids the Treasury and Pay Departments
paying bounties due the soldiers to any claim agent, or
upon "any power of attorney, transfer, or assignment whatever;"
but provides that the money due shall be sent
directly to the soldier or his heirs, by draft, on their order,
//059.png
.pn +1
or through the Freedman's Bureau, or state agents appointed
specially for that purpose, etc., at no cost to the soldier
or his heirs. The law also provides, that the government
shall retain in its hands such proper fees as may be due to
the claim agents for their services in procuring bounties,
which fees are subject to the agents' order; thus securing
to them all that is justly their due, while also, in a truly
Christian or motherly way, shielding them from the temptation
to rob the poor soldier or his heirs of everything.
(One object of governments, we are told by sundry "great
writers on Law," is to protect the morals of the people;
which we are very glad to be assured of--sometimes. It
is refreshing to be told that a divine power has a hand in
the governmental institutions of the world; for if we were
not so informed by the great writers, we might not always
be able to discover the fact.)

But this victory over the claim agents was not won
without much hard fighting on Officer McWatters' part.
The rascally agents harassed him, threatened him, and attempted
to bribe him, etc. But without going into details,
we will content ourselves with transferring to these pages
an article which we find in The Sun, of April 10, 1869:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"The thanks of hundreds of soldiers who have been defrauded by the
bounty thieves, are due to General John A. Logan, for pushing through
Metropolitan Policeman McWatters' bill, requiring that all moneys due
them shall be paid to the soldiers direct, the government reserving to
itself the fees. While Officer McWatters was in Washington, the bounty
thieves pretending to enjoy influence with the Metropolitan Police Commissioners,
threatened him, and tried to buy him off, one of the fellows
offering him five hundred dollars to 'go home and mind his own business.'
We reproduce two of their threatening letters, as follows:--
.sp 1

"'<sc>Mr. McWatters.</sc> Dear Sir: You are in a business that don't suit
you--something you have no right in. The men you are working against
are a large and influential class; have power where you least expect it.
You have a good position on the police. As you value it, quit your <target id='tn059'>present
action. Let the <i>soldiers</i> take care of themselves; it don't pay <i>you</i>,
nor will it. You can't afford to play philanthropist. Leave that to men
of means, and women, if you like. A word to the wise.

.ll -8
.rj
"'Yours, a friend,
.ll +8
"'<sc>New York</sc>, March 27, 1869.\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_H.\_B.\_L.'

.in -4
.ll +4
//060.png
.pn +1
.sp 1
.in +4
.ll -4
"'<sc>Mr. McWatters.</sc> Dear Sir: Your visit to Washington will do
you no good, but may possibly result in great harm to yourself. You
have a good position now, and I think you had better let the soldiers'
matters alone, as you are interfering with the business of those whose
power and influence can be used against you to disadvantage. If you
think anything at all of your own welfare, leave Washington immediately,
and pursue the matter no further.

.ll -8
.rj
Yours, etc.,
.ll +8
.ll -2
.rj
P. G. W.
.ll +2


"'<sc>New York</sc>, March 29, 1869'"
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

But Officer McWatters' labor for the soldier and his family,
in regard to the laws regulating payments thereto, did
not stop here. In 1870, in conjunction with others (he being
the proposer of the same, we believe, as he was surely the
most active mover thereto), obtained a change to be made
in the time and frequency of the payment of pensions; the
same theretofore being paid only semi-annually. There
were evils attending these semi-annual payments. Some
recipients getting so much of their dues at a time, were
led to improvidence, spending the same more freely than
they would have done smaller sums; and their families
often complained about the matter. Officer McWatters
urged the proposition of monthly payments, but was unable
to secure his object; but the law was changed, making the
pensions payable in quarterly instalments. This was a
great improvement over the old law. Officer McWatters
received numerous letters of gratitude on the passage of
the law. We clip the following in relation thereto, from
the Tribune of December 9, 1870:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"The first payment of pensions under the new law making the payments
quarterly instead of semi-annual, began last Monday, and many
grateful letters, illustrating the beneficial working of the new plan, have
already been received by Mr. G. S. McWatters, who was instrumental, in
conjunction with the Ladies' Union Relief Association, in procuring the
passage of the bill."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

The payments were made formerly in March and September;
and how the pensioner welcomed a quarterly
payment coming on the first Monday of December, is perhaps
as feelingly told, in its own homely way, as it well
could be, in the following extract from one of those letters
to which the Tribune refers. A pensioner, writing to
//061.png
.pn +1
McWatters, says: "Nobody but a poor man can appreciate
the feelings a poor man enjoys in the consciousness of
having a clean rent bill, a ton of coal, and a barrel of flour,
in the first month of winter."

Ay! there <i>is</i> an eloquence in those words--an eloquence
which touches the softer chords of the heart,--"The
poor man enjoys"! Nobody more than Officer
McWatters, the philanthropist, could appreciate the poor
pensioner's letter. But is there not in that letter that
which touches other chords than those of sympathy--the
chords of justice in all decent souls? a sense of justice
which regards with horror, and burns with indignation over,
the wretched order of things, or disorder the rather, which
creates these suffering poor? Very likely that pensioner,
who tells us so touchingly of "a poor man's feelings," has
done more for the world, created more for the good of his
fellow-men, through his labor, in the form of agricultural
products, necessary work of one kind or another, etc., etc.,
than all the millionnaires of New York together,--the
mere cormorants, who fatten upon the toil of the laboring
classes. Is it not a shame to our common humanity that a
barrel of flour should, in any family, become a subject for
their rejoicing? "How a poor man feels!"--in this world
of wealth! in this age of Christian teaching! in this era of
churches! Bah! it is enough, one would think, to make
the apostles of the Nazarene arise from their graves, and
seize the sword of Peter, to put an end to the villany
which still enslaves the masses and keeps them poor. But
we do not hear that they are disturbed, nor do we learn
that there is pity anywhere in the universe for the poor,
save in the souls of the poor themselves, and in those of a
few philanthropists here and there. But that is well, for it
is not pity which is to work the good reformation which
must some time be wrought; it is justice, the justice which
shall yet demand <i>rights</i>, and banish even the name of <i>privileges</i>;
justice, with science as its means. All else has signally
failed to achieve any great good.
//062.png
.pn +1

Froude and other great writers admit that but little real
progress has been made under our social institutions.
Changes have come along the line of the centuries, it is
true, but the "poor man" (and the term generically comprehends
the vast majority of the race), the poor man
suffers as much in these days as in those of Moses, or in
Caligula's, or in the dark ages, or any period of feudal
times; and yet we boast of "progress." In no period of
the world's history has anything more reprehensible than
the suffering of the Irish people at home, in these days,
occurred; and there is no reason found in the organic
structure of our government why our own poor suffer
less, or shall suffer less in the future, than the Irish people
now, save that there is a little more mercy in the laws
which the tyrant or governing classes of this country
make for the laboring classes, in the matter of certain
household goods, for example, exempt from levy of attachment
or execution; (but this is true only of the laws of certain
States, not of the national laws). And this very hour,
as we write, the National Congress is contemplating putting
millions of acres of the public domain into the hands of the
tyrant forces, thus robbing the future millions who will
need the soil to live upon.

"The poor man's feelings"! But we dismiss the subject
here, with the simple words,--eloquent enough to stir
every decent soul to indignation over the wrongs of the
laboring classes,--"The feelings of a poor man"!

But more work for the soldier and his family remained
for McWatters to do, and he is at this writing (February,
1871) attempting, with the support of the ever noble and
active Ladies' Union Relief Association, to get an act
passed by Congress, by which an honorably discharged
soldier, too poor to buy his own grave, may console himself,
in his last moments, that his family will not be obliged
to follow him to a pauper's last resting-place. Now, only
such soldiers as die in actual service have a right to be
buried in the National Cemeteries. The veriest villain may
//063.png
.pn +1
have enlisted in the service yesterday, and died, and be
buried to-day in the National Cemeteries. But the honorably
discharged soldier, who served through the war bravely
and nobly, is not entitled to be buried therein, and if he
dies poor, goes to the potter's field. Such is the nation's
gratitude!

There's an awful sarcasm in this last work of McWatters.
We do not know whether, in the overflowing kindness of
his soul, he sees it or not. Memorializing "The Honorable
the Senators and Members of the House of Representatives
in Congress assembled" to provide a place to bury the
nation's heroes in, by a sort of legal fiction, which, while they
do fill paupers' graves, technically, obscures a little the fact
of their abject poverty, by giving them graves "free of
cost." Poor fellows! After death they get more rights
than they had when living! The government takes away
the soil from the living man, robs him of his right to it,--a
right, the true title to which is in the fact of his existence,--his
being born, if you please,--and makes restitution
with six feet of subsoil to the dead man!

But the merit of Officer McWatters' work is not decreased
by this consideration. He does the very best thing
he can do under the circumstances. But the nation--the
community--civilization--what of them?



.sp 2
.h3 id=honorabletest
<sc>Honorable Testimonials to Officer McWatters.</sc>
.sp 1

We have somewhere said that Officer McWatters has
received not a dollar for his years of constant, active
benevolence. This is literally true: but it is not exactly
true in the interpretation which some readers might give
it; for Officer McWatters has not been wholly without substantial
rewards other than those of the joys of his own
happiness in well doing. But we have not space to
notice all of these. The one which we presume is most
dear to the gallant heart of Officer McWatters, is a testimonial
of his benevolent services given him by the Ladies'
Union Relief Association, in July, 1868. We copy the following
//064.png
.pn +1
article regarding it from the New York Times of
July 31, 1868:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"<sc>Testimonial.</sc>--The well-known services of Officer George S. McWatters
on behalf of disabled soldiers and of the widows and orphans of
fallen ones, received a handsome acknowledgment, a few days since, at
the hands of the Ladies' Union Relief Association, with whose invaluable
labors he has closely identified himself since the organization of the institution.
Mrs. John A. Kennedy, who is President of the Association, presented
Mr. McWatters with a very valuable gold watch, purchased for
him with private contributions of the ladies of the Association, as a testimonial
of their appreciation of his energetic labors in the work they have
so much at heart. The watch is richly chased and bears on one side of
the outer case the monogram 'G. S. McW.,' and on the other, also in
monogram, '1868.' The inner case has the following inscription:--

"'<i>Presented to George S. McWatters by the members of the Ladies'
Union Relief Association, in appreciation of his services to the families
of Union Soldiers.</i> 1868.'

"It is pleasing to note this handsome recognition of the quiet energy and
modest worth of Officer McWatters, who has in many ways and frequently,
during the war and since, given remarkable evidence of how much
good work, in a humble and unpretending way, is within the compass of
a single individual, impelled by a spirit of true philanthropy."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

We also append a notice of the same testimonial, taken
from The Sun of the same date, since it very succinctly
sets forth Officer McWatters' great worth as a philanthropist.

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"<sc>Handsome and Well-deserved Compliment.</sc>--A few days ago
Officer G. S. McWatters was surprised by a request to attend at the residence
of Mrs. John A. Kennedy, the President of the Ladies' Union Relief
Association. There he was presented with a beautiful gold watch, as a
token of recognition of the valuable work done by him in assisting the
objects of the society. Ever since the war Officer McWatters has devoted
all his spare hours to the benefit of Union soldiers and their families.
<i>We could fill columns with stories of his work and its good results, but
have only room to say that no man of equal means has worked so hard
and so successfully.</i> To the assistance and encouragement of that noble
institution, the Ladies' Union Aid Society, he has given every moment
that could be spared from his official duties. It is a fitting and graceful
compliment, when such ladies as Mrs. Wm. F. Havemeyer, Mrs. Marshall
O. Roberts, Mrs. Kennedy, and others of similar standing, so generously
recognize the faithful services of their co-laborer. Of course Mr.
McWatters has official permission to accept his well-earned present, and
long may he live to wear it."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1
//065.png
.pn +1

We also subjoin the following from the Tribune, inasmuch
as it makes allusion to certain benevolent acts and
plans of Officer McWatters, to which we have not referred
in these biographical notes, but which are most worthy
of record. So good a summary is the Tribune's article of
Officer McWatters' claims upon the public esteem as an
active philanthropist up to the period of its date, that we
copy it entire, though it embraces several matters upon
which we have descanted more or less extendedly in these
Notes:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"It is always gratifying to see genuine and unpretending merit recognized
and honored. We are therefore specially glad to record the fact
that the Ladies' Union Relief Association of this city have recently, by the
presentation of a valuable and appropriate gift, so recognized and honored
the services rendered by Officer G. S. McWatters to the peculiar cause
of benevolence to which they are devoted. The gift is a handsome gold
watch, and the presentation was made on Thursday evening, the 23d inst.,
by the President of the Association, Mrs. John A. Kennedy, at her residence,
No. 135 West Twenty-Second Street. The Ladies' Union Relief
has been established two years. It was instituted with a view to the relief
of sick and disabled soldiers, their families, widows, or orphans, from
the evils of extreme poverty. Great good has been accomplished by the
Association; and, in its peculiar charity, it has had no ally more efficient
and indefatigable than Officer McWatters. Indeed, from the very
beginning of the late civil war, this officer has consistently and faithfully
devoted himself to the cause of the Union soldiers. In 1861 he was associated
with the late Daniel Carpenter in the mission of raising money
from the police force for the support of the families of policemen who had
gone to the war. In 1862--an assessment having been levied on the police
force for the purpose of raising and equipping the Metropolitan Brigade--Officer
McWatters subscribed more money to this fund than any
other patrolman on the force. In 1863, when our military hospitals
around Washington and elsewhere were in great need of lemons for the
wounded and suffering victims of battle, Officer McWatters collected six
hundred dollars from among the police towards supplying this want; and
the lemons so procured were gratuitously forwarded to the hospitals South
and West by Adams Express Company. A letter of thanks from Dr. Bellows,
representative of the Sanitary Commission, was, on this occasion,
addressed to the Police Commissioners. In 1863, also, Officer McWatters
was a member of the little band of police officers that rescued and defended
our building from the miscreants who attacked it during the July
riots, and in that affray he was badly wounded. In 1864 he was one of
the originators of the New York Sanitary Fair, and he served as one of
its committees, with so much devotion and success that he won a letter
//066.png
.pn +1
of thanks from Mrs. Lane, the President of the Fair, Mrs. Jessie Benton
Fremont, and Colonel Le Grand Cannon. Officer McWatters, it should
also be mentioned, is the originator of the Police Mutual Aid Society, a
very useful institution, founded on the principle of fraternal benevolence.
The society has served as a model for similar societies--of firemen, post-office
clerks, and other bodies of men all over the country. A plan of
practical benevolence has likewise been formed and matured by Officer
McWatters in the Masonic Fraternity, and has won the commendation
of some of the highest officials in that organization. These facts strongly
attest the humane spirit, active intelligence, and earnest devotion to duty
which have characterized Officer McWatters in a highly creditable career of
practical benevolence. The ladies of the Union Relief Society have no less
justly than gracefully acknowledged the worth of his character and services,
in making the gift we have recorded. Every lover of this country,
we may add, and every friend of mankind, will naturally wish the amplest
success to all these workers in the good cause of charity."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%

.sp 2
.h3 id=bellevue
<sc>The Bellevue Hospital Iniquity.</sc>
.sp 1

Charity, holy though the poets sing her, and beautiful the
painters picture her lineaments, is, after all, a hag, if real;
or only an ideal being, at best, if we are to judge her by
her precious, favored children, the almoners she sometimes
employs to dispense her bounties. In New York a great
many vulgar wretches are, from time to time, officially connected
with the charitable institutions under control of the
city government. Bellevue Hospital was, in 1869, the
theatre of some of these base fellows' operations.

These men were protected by the "Citizens Association,"
so called,--a self-constituted body of very respectable
gentlemen, whose business it is to see that everything
in the city is properly conducted; gentlemen of high
moral tone, the hems of whose phylacteries (made of
invisible or abstract "great moral worth," "solid character,"
"piety," "good standing in society," and visible and
real amounts of greenbacks, all interwoven in some mysterious
way, and which together constitute "dignity,"
we believe), are broad enough to out-Pharisee those
marvelous gentlemen in Christ's time who made Jerusalem
such a genial place of residence, with their "long
prayers."
//067.png
.pn +1

In July, 1869, the Citizens' Association published, through
the newspapers of the city, what they called the result of
an investigation of the several institutions under the control
of the Commissioners of Charities and Corrections, in
which they assured the public that these institutions were
all properly and well conducted, and felicitated the said
public that the said institutions were in charge of such
high toned and efficient gentlemen as they named.

But there was a man in New York, who, when he read
the Citizens' Association's manifesto, thought it a most
astonishing falsehood, either of the kind known as a lie,
or of that kind which people tell sometimes when they
are talking of things about which they know nothing; for
his duties had called him to Bellevue Hospital on sundry
occasions, and he had there witnessed, with his own eyes,
sundry things which made his blood boil with indignation;
and when he read the manifesto of the Citizens' Association,
he determined to correct it.

Of what this man had seen at Bellevue Hospital, some
faint conception may be formed from the following facts:
There was scarcely a bed there, in any of the wards,
which was free from vermin; patients who took most care
of the beds, were always liable to get lousy in the water
closets; only a single clean sheet a week was allowed, no
matter how <target id='tn068'>filthy a bed might become through the poor
patient's weak misfortunes; the blankets were dirty; to
keep the coverlets clean, for "whited-sepulchre" purposes,
when visitors called, they were taken off nights;
the cooking of the institution was done by a drunken, filthy
cook, and was served to the patients on what had once been
tin dishes, but had been so often polished "clean" that
they had became rusty sheet-iron plates; the "orderlies,"
who were paid to attend to the sick, were tyrannical, and
little or no attention was paid to the complaints of the sufferers.
The only thing a poor sick man had to sit on was
a stool, with a seat of about twelve inches by fourteen
inches in size, without a back (and most of the sick had
//068.png
.pn +1
weak backs). The sick poor, picked up in the streets, for
example, and carried there, had their outer garments
taken off, and were put to bed without washing, with their
under clothes on, and had no "change of raiment" till
they died! The wards were cold in winter, and the poor
were glad of even their filthy rags to keep them warm.
Generally the bed in which a poor fellow died remained
as he left it, unchanged, for the comfort of the next occupant
and corpse! But this is quite enough, we opine, for
the reader's entire satisfaction.

Of course this "Augean stable" needed cleansing, and
the Citizens' Association needed enlightening, or reforming,
whichever is the proper term in the case, and that
man to whom we have alluded knew how to do it. The
Tribune and Evening Post, when informed of the true
state of affairs, cheerfully gave space in their columns for
the facts, and appealed to the Citizens' Association to revise
their work of voluntary report-making. We have
before us a copy of the Evening Post of date September
1, 1869, containing a long editorial article on "Bellevue
Hospital," mostly made up of a letter (which was written
by a poor, disabled soldier, then "confined" in Bellevue
Hospital), setting forth some of the luxuries, conveniences,
the neatness, etc., enjoyed at Bellevue Hospital. (It appears
that the only decent thing connected with the hospital
then, was the medical care which was pronounced
excellent.)

The article alluded to, called on the Citizens' Association
"which, by a recent publication, has made itself in
some sort responsible for the good management of the city
charities," to "investigate" the matter (out of courtesy
it ought to have said, "<i>re</i>-investigate," but it didn't).

The secretary of the Citizens' Association visited one
of the editors of a city paper, and stated that Bellevue
Hospital was the only institution under the Commissioners
of Charities and Corrections which he had <i>not</i> personally
visited! and after two weeks' delay, the Citizens' Association
//069.png
.pn +1
sent a committee of investigation to the hospital, and
found everything all right, of course, and drew up a
report, which, however, was never published; for when
they presented the same for publication, the wary editors
required that the report, if it were to appear in their columns,
should be followed by affidavits of proper parties,
showing that the iniquities complained of existed at Bellevue
Hospital when the complaints were made.

The result was, that reforms so much needed at Bellevue
Hospital were made there; for which hosts of patients have
since been grateful. It is said that the authorities of the
hospital offered a hundred dollars reward for the person
who wrote, or instigated the writing, of the various letters
to the press, exposing the state of things there, and which
wrought the reform. But they were not successful at
the time in discovering their enemy, and the poor patients'
friend; for the bringing to light, and subjecting of these
outrages at Bellevue Hospital to public condemnation, was
one of Officer McWatters' many silent Good Samaritan
deeds, and he did not intend to have them or the public
know who wrought it. Besides, the officials were powerful,
and might do him great harm, in their indignation at
his exposure of their wickedness, and it would not have
been wise in him to act too openly. But time enough has
passed now, we presume, to calm their animosity; and having
possessed ourselves of the facts without Officer McWatters'
knowledge, we think it proper that the credit due
him in this matter be acknowledged here.


.sp 2
.h3 id=conclusion
<sc>Conclusion.</sc>
.sp 1

In these meagre Biographical Notes we have done but
partial justice to Officer McWatters. Our readers were
duly assured that no attempt would be made by us to
write a fitting biography of the man; and we have only,
in a hasty way, and in a manner wholly unsatisfactory to
ourselves, alluded to certain incidents in our subject's life,
which serve to stamp him as a man far above the average
//070.png
.pn +1
of even good souls, in his active, practical benevolence.
But it is often in little things that the generous soul demonstrates
itself most eloquently--in the usually unremarked,
quiet acts of a man; and, in our judgment, a
letter from Officer McWatters, which, in our search of the
public journals for most of the material of these Notes,
we found in the Evening Mail of October 23, 1869, bespeaks
for him as much respect from the good and charitably
inclined as anything he ever did.

We judge from the opening sentence of the letter, that
some "good enough" fellow, "S. W. H. C.," soft of heart,
perhaps, but limited in judgment, had found fault, through
the columns of the Mail, with the poor organ-grinders'
"plying their vocation" on the public streets. Of course
there was nobody in all the great metropolis to come to
their defence, except some man like Officer McWatters.
And so he came, it seems, seasonably. The letter shows
not only the tender, generous spirit of the man, but his
ripe good judgment and comprehensive view of things
as well, and is worthy of preservation here in these pages,
along with the masterly efforts of his pen, which, in "Knots
Untied," have not only given us,--his present readers,--the
liveliest gratification by the mysteries they unfold in
a lucid style, but have made one of the best possible
records of certain phases of now current life, for the information
of the future historian.

The old Romans (as well as other peoples) had their secret
police service; and how interesting it would be to us,
in these far off centuries, to read of their deeds in the
empire, or during the kingdom of Rome. History, for
the most part, is made up of the deeds of great conquerors,
etc. We know too little of the domestic and "hidden
life" of the past. But the future historian of these
times will have all the <i>materiel</i> his ambition can desire for
weaving the thread of his story. And what a <i>resumé</i> of
crimes and outrages of all kinds will that of the 19th century
be for the historian of the 40th century to make!
//071.png
.pn +1

The letter to which we refer above, regarding the organ-grinders,
will be found appended hereto, together with
some other matters of interest regarding Officer McWatters,
which we have collected in our examination of the
public journals. We place them in connection with these
biographical notes, as in some respects presenting our
subject in a more graphic manner than we are able in this
hurried writing, to make him known to the great reading
public of his adopted country.

The concluding paragraph of the letter referred to regarding
the organ-grinders, as will be seen by reference
to it, is, "Until the country has reached out her helping
hand to all to whom she owes assistance as a right, it is in
bad taste to find fault with the mode in which the disabled
soldier tries to earn a living for his family." In these
words, so just and wise, is embraced more than the casual
reader will be apt to perceive. They are, in our opinion,
very remarkable, and involve a great principle, one which
Officer McWatters, as a student of social science, as we
have remarked him, must clearly understand.

"To all to whom she owes assistance as a right," are
words eloquent with the great truth of social statesmanship
which they suggest; which is, that a country, a government,
should recognize the right of its subjects (or component
parts, to speak more decently, for there is a hateful
sound in that word "subjects") to life; and the great
moral duty of all these parts to assist each other; a
duty which is clear and imperative in the nature of
things (but we cannot here go into the subtleties of the
matter, and show why); a duty, however, which can never
be fitly performed till some nation or people are so organized,
politically and socially, that each shall receive all
he merits therein; till the labor forces, the creators, the
only really worthy, are honored and protected; and not, as
now, when the chief villains and the worthless tyrants live
upon the fat of the land, enjoy all the honors, and are
//072.png
.pn +1
shielded by the laws in robbing from and exploiting upon
the poor, the laboring classes.

Healthful and buoyant of spirit, Officer McWatters
doubtless has many years of active life yet to enjoy. The
record of his past is abundant assurance that his future
will be just, generous, brave in good deeds, sternly and
patiently laborious, and benevolent to all mankind; and
when he ceases to be, when the organized atoms which
make what we call the man, and are discriminated by us
from all other organized atoms as "McWatters," shall have
been resolved into their original conditions, and his individuality
is lost forever in the ceaseless processes of continuing
creation, his good deeds shall live on still, and
make for him a place in the reverence of those who honor
good works far above that of most men; above that of all
the talkers, the self-elected teachers, who heed not their
own doctrines, however noble these be. One such man as
Officer McWatters is worth more than an army of self-proclaimed
saints, who do nothing but prattle about virtue,
and preach, to use their own figure of speech, but live
not out in their lives, nor exemplify in their deaths, "Christ
and Him crucified;" but who think more of Christ <i>on</i> the
Cross, in the "triumph of faith," than of the nobler Christ-come-down-from-the-Cross,
and still battling, with untiring
spirit, against the wrongs which men do to one another.

With this hasty sketch, and the appendices which we
may see fit to make (as before indicated), we leave Officer
George S. McWatters,--the kind of heart, the merciful, the
dutiful, the intelligent and honest man; the patriot of
the true type; the practical and great philanthropist,--in
the hands of our readers, trusting that some able biographer
will yet write his history, in a style and with
a particularity commensurate with Officer McWatters'
nobility of character and multifold great good works in
the cause of humanity.
//073.png
.pn +1


.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=organgrinders
THE ORGAN-GRINDERS.
.sp 1

.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
A WORD IN THEIR BEHALF--LETTER FROM OFFICER MCWATTERS (REFERRED
TO IN THE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES)--A SAD STORY--WHY THE ASYLUMS
CANNOT BE HOMES FOR ALL THE DISABLED.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>To the Editor of the Evening Mail:</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
To the Editor of the Evening Mail:
.if-
The communication
signed "S. W. H. C.," in your issue of the 19th,
breathes a good spirit towards our sick and disabled soldiers,
but evidently was not written understandingly. By
far the greater number of the street organ-grinders, clad
in soldiers' garb, have been true and honest soldiers, but
being husbands and fathers, they cannot take advantage of
the asylums. The article on this subject was in all respects
correct. Until the nation furnishes homes for this class of
our disabled soldiers,--homes which will not necessitate
their parting from their little families, dearer to them by
far than their own personal comfort,--we must look for
such street exhibitions as we see, and which are not disgraceful
to the soldier, whatever they may be to his country.
That some of these are impostors, I do not doubt; but
it is the duty of the police to satisfy themselves who are
and who are not, and to treat them accordingly. On the
other hand, there are no more deserving objects of charity
in the world than some of these are.

In evidence of the reluctance which those who have
family ties feel in entering any of the asylums, I now narrate
you an incident. Some six months ago I found a poor
fellow in this city who had lost his health in the army, in
which he had served four years. He had just been sent
out of hospital incurable--a consumptive. He had a wife
and four children, the eldest a boy of twelve, a cripple, and
three little girls. Some one of the customary blunders at
Washington had hitherto delayed his pension. The sole
income of the family, when I called, was what the mother
earned by scrubbing. The father had evidently not long
//074.png
.pn +1
to live, and poverty was hastening him to the grave.
When I called, and saw how things were, I advised him
to go to the Home, to which I would find means to send
him. He said he would consult his wife. He did so, and
then said that he had resolved to go; that he was only eating
the bread his poor wife earned, and which his little
ones needed. I took the necessary steps, and received
from General Butler the coupons for his transportation.
By this time I had had several interviews with his family;
and seeing how much misery the threatened separation
was likely to entail,--for they were deeply attached--father,
mother, and children--to each other,--I resolved
to try and prevent it. To this end I consulted Mrs. J. A.
Kennedy, President of the Ladies' Union Relief Association,
who, having heard the pitiable case, consented to
extend the aid of the institution to the family, that they
might stay together as long as the father lived. Freighted
with this news, I went to the miserable home. They were
waiting for me; had been sitting, weeping in company for
hours, expecting the separation. I cannot describe to you
the joy that filled that poor home when I told them that
the father was not to go. Their joy was more touching
than even the preceding grief.

Had "S. W. H. C." been with me then, or had he seen so
many of just such cases as I have seen, he would be much
slower in coming to judgment of the poor organ-grinder.
For it is this love of wife and children, which we honor, or
ought to honor, which sends the married soldier on the
street to beg in this way, rather than take life easy, and
"fight his battles o'er and o'er again" in an asylum. The
soldier above referred to is still alive, thanks to the assistance
given him by General Butler and the good ladies of
the Association.

The asylums, as they are at present ordered, cannot
meet cases like these; but they merit help, and should
have it in some fashion. The Ladies' Union Relief Association
does much to keep a great number off the street
//075.png
.pn +1
who would otherwise present much more disagreeable pictures
than the organ-grinders to the eyes of your sensitive
correspondent; but their means are limited. They cannot
reach all who need. Until the country has reached out
her helping hand to all to whom she owes assistance as a
right, it is in bad taste to find fault with the mode in which
the disabled soldier tries to earn a living for his family.

.ll -2
.rj
<sc>McWatters.</sc>
.ll +2


.pb
.sp 4
.h3 id=tendollars
TEN DOLLARS A MONTH: A STORY OF GRIEF AND JOY.
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>It</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
It
.if-
is a painful comment upon the state of society, or the
character of our civilization, that our most cherished literature,
both of poetry and prose, has its origin in human
woes and wrongs. "Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless
thousands mourn." Dickens, with all his wealth of
genius, so much prized, would have found no use for it in
a decent world, unless, perchance, it might have shone as
brightly upon the face of Joy, as it beamed pathetically
upon the tortured visage of Misery. Hood, in his immortal
"Song of the Shirt," and the "Bridge of Sighs,"
and in many other of his verse; Tennyson, in the best
of his poems; Mrs. Browning, with her vast power of
thought and feeling, to say nothing of many other great
writers of the past and present; our own blessed poet
Whittier, etc., have given us their noblest works with
pens dipped in human tears, or sharpened by human sufferings.
So, too, of the great good deeds of the other
philanthropists--the Howards, the Nightingales, the McWatterses.
They could only have had their origin in the
wrongs which man does to his fellow-man; in the outrages
which the tyrant classes do to the weaker; in the riot of
wars for governmental supremacy; in the sufferings of the
outraged, trampled into the dust by the powerful robbers
//076.png
.pn +1
of society in their mad greed for wealth, or cheated by
pious and talented hypocrites out of their moral as well as
physical rights.

Society should be so ordered, as it might readily be,
that all the pathetic literature now so much cherished,
would be obnoxious to us, as belonging to a state of
things which once existed, but which all were anxious to
forget; when only the songs of joy should find birth,
and when the basilar principles of Christianity should
be practically recognized, and everywhere expressed in
our institutions, or organic social life. But this we cannot
hope for till superstition shall be done away with, the
"money-changers" driven from the porches of our "temples;"
the poor and ignorant made aware of their rights,
and earnest in claiming them; and the tyrant classes come
to learn the falsity of their chief "motto," namely, that 'tis
"better to rule in hell than serve in heaven."

We had thought to give in the foregoing Biographical
Notes some touching instances of the experiences of the
good women of the "Ladies' Union Relief Association"
and Officer McWatters, in their noble work of succoring
the needy, and binding up the wounds of the suffering.
We have before us, furnished by the kindness of a friend,
a partial record of the Association's deeds (never intended
for publication), freighted with notes of bitter sorrows
which they have assuaged, and which, written out, would
fill pathetic volumes; but we have no space for them here.
One, however, so enchains our interest that we cannot forbid
ourselves to recite it here, as an exemplary instance,
which, if multiplied in his mind by hundreds and thousands,
will give the reader something like an adequate
understanding of the vast work of kind and tender ministrations
which these philanthropists have done, and are
constantly doing.

Officer McWatters had two or three times visited a
poor, sick, emaciated veteran soldier, by the name of Patrick
O'Brien. Of course Patrick could earn nothing for
//077.png
.pn +1
his own support, and depended wholly upon what little his
good wife (a comparatively young and fragile woman)
could earn by washing and scrubbing, and which she
shared with him and their three young children. McWatters
was greatly moved by the condition of this family.
He saw that the wife could not much longer sustain the
burden she was bravely attempting to bear, and finally advised
that, as the best thing to be done, the veteran should
be sent, at the expense of the Ladies' Union Relief Association,
to the Soldiers' Home at Dayton, Ohio. This was
consented to by the soldier and his suffering wife, but not
without great reluctance. The sympathy of sorrows is
tenderly cohesive and sensitive. After leaving with the
family some money for their aid, and fixing upon a time,
two or three days thereafter, to call with a carriage, and
take the soldier to the cars, Officer McWatters bade good
day to the family. They expected him to come for the
veteran in the night, for the poor man preferred travelling
then, as he got no sleep in the night season.

Officer McWatters was so greatly impressed by the innate
pride, high spirit, and profound love of the soldier
for his family, so deeply reciprocated by them, that he
could not bear to see that poor household separated, and
at once interested himself to get an allowance for the soldier
from the Association, and thus enable him to
stay with his family; and he succeeded in procuring ten
dollars a month for him, assurance of which he received
by letter, just at the time appointed for taking the soldier
from his poor home to the cars. He went to bear the
good news to the family. It was so late when he got to
their miserable little room (for one room, one bed, served
them all), that they had retired, thinking that he would
not come that night. He rapped, and announced his
name, and the poor wife arose from the bed, and admitted
him. The poor children awakened before he could
announce the good news, and supposing that he had come
to take away their father, rushed off from their couch, and
//078.png
.pn +1
//079.png
.pn +1
//080.png
.pn +1
sobbing and weeping, implored him not to take their father
off, the violence of their and their mother's grief preventing
Officer McWatters explaining his present errand for
the space of a full minute or two. The poor soldier, moved
by his family's grief, had risen from that one bed, and added
his prayer to the rest, for something else possible to be
done than the sending of him away.

.pm illo i_078 i_078.jpg 700px "TEN DOLLARS A MONTH!"

At last Officer McWatters succeeded in quelling the
passionate storm of wailing and grief for an instant, which
he seized to tell them his errand in. It is not probable
that pen or pencil could ever do faintest justice to the picture
of the gleeful, tearful gratitude which that family
exhibited in their sudden revulsion from broken-hearted
grief to wild joy, as McWatters finished reading the letter
he had received assuring the monthly allowance.

"Ten dollars a month!" A pitiable sum, yet it brought
joy to that whole household at that dead hour of night,
in the city of mingled sorrows, and vanities, and debaucheries,
when hundreds and thousands of the pampered sons
and daughters of luxury (worthless members of society)
were wasting each more than ten dollars an hour in worse
than useless ways,--in riot and "ribald revelry."

The poor man remained with his family nearly two
years; when he died, and was buried by the Association.
Upon his death his grateful widow wrote to the ladies a
letter (a copy of which was taken from the archives of the
Association without their special knowledge, it must be
confessed, but by "no robbery" after all), and which we
think most worthy a place here, in honor of the good ladies
whose charities it acknowledges.

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4

.ll -2
.rj
"<sc>New York</sc>, May 3, 1870.
.ll +2

.ti 0
"<i>To the Ladies Union Relief Association</i>:

"<sc>Ladies</sc>: It is my painful duty to inform you of the death of my husband,
Patrick O'Brien. Allow me to express the deep sense of gratitude
that I and my children feel towards your Association for the assistance you
have generously extended to us during the last two years of his illness.
The value of that assistance has been enhanced by the manner of its bestowal.
//081.png
.pn +1
Mr. McWatters, the kind dispenser of your bounty, has smoothed
to the grave the pilgrimage of a proud spirit; but for the many delicate
assurances he gave my husband that your generous assistance was not
charity, but the poor soldier's rightful due, the last years of his life would
have been embittered by a sad sense of destitution and dependence.

"My husband served the republic for nearly four years, during which
service he was maimed in its defence, and died at last of disease contracted
in the service. He could not have borne the thought that he and his little
ones were subsisting on the cold charity of the world, and thanks to
the delicate tact with which your aid was bestowed his mind was smoothed,
and his last days on earth made peaceable.

"Please accept the sincere gratitude and blessings of a soldier's widow
and three children.

.ll -2
.rj
<sc>Mary O'Brien.</sc>"
.ll +2

.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

This scene of the poor family, with their single bed, and
as they stood in their night-clothes before Officer McWatters,
as, choked with mingled feelings of sympathy and a
sense of the joy he was about to give them, he read, with
tears, the welcome news, ought to be put upon canvas, and
hung upon the walls of all the haunts of sin, the gold-room
of the Exchange, the brokers' offices, bankers', princely
merchants' ware-rooms, sectarian churches, and the other
meeting-places of pride and robbery throughout the city,
and underneath it should be written, "A chapter of our
civilization in the 19th century."

.ll -2
.rj
S.
.ll +2

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=touchingtale
MACK AND THE VETERAN.
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.ce
A TOUCHING TALE--THE POETRY AND PATHOS OF BARE FEET.

.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>The</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
The
.if-
following, taken from the New York Dispatch of
October 16, 1870, is not only to the point as illustrating
the noble traits of Officer McWatters' character, but is too
well told not to be preserved here. We think best to make
no substitution of "McWatters" in the place of the familiar
<i>sobriquet</i> by which the genial writer was pleased to designate
him.
//082.png
.pn +1

<target id='tn082'>In one of the big public institutions set apart for a
branch of the Municipal Government of this big, overgrown
city of ours, there is one, among the many departments
of this, that, and the other thing, presided over by
our friend Mr. Mack.

Mr. Mack is a gentleman, who, though old in years, is
not old in infirmity, and he walks about with a vim and
spirit that might be profitably imitated by many listless
young men of the period.

Besides devoting his time and talents to his official position,
he takes an active interest in everything of a philanthropic
nature. We are ignorant of the number of societies
which have these objects to attain, of which Mr. Mack is
a member; but in all of them he is among the most
active.

Among the charitable societies, is one composed of
ladies, who attend the wants of disabled soldiers, their
widows and orphans. The ladies have selected our friend
Mr. Mack as their almoner, and his office is visited every
day by scores of poor people.

On a late visit to the good man, we found a poor veteran
just approaching his desk.

"Mr. Mack, sir," said the man.

"That's my name sir. Take a seat."

The man stepped forward briskly, but with a limp. He
was sixty years of age, with gray hair, shabbily attired,
lame in the leg and arm, and, as it afterwards appeared,
one half of his right foot gone; a wreck of the human
form divine, but with much manliness left about him.

"What is your business, friend?"

"That's it, sir; and I'll thank you if you can do it," he
replied cheerily, as he handed a letter.

"You want to go to New London?" said Mr. Mack, after
reading the missive.

"That's it, sir; my darter lives there. I've walked all
the way from Philadelphia, and my legs have kinder give
//083.png
.pn +1
out. One of them ain't of much account anyway, but I've
got to make the best of it."

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "Were you a soldier? You know my business
is principally with soldiers, although I should be glad
to assist you if it is in my power."

<i>Veteran.</i> "Well, I guess so, sir. I got knocked up in
this kind of shape doing service for Uncle Sam."

He raised his arm with difficulty, and pointed to his leg.

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "Have you your discharge papers?"

<i>Veteran.</i> "I'm sorry to say that I haven't got them
with me. I had them framed, and after the old woman
died (tearfully), I sent them to Mollie for safe-keeping.
But they're honorable, sir--they are, indeed."

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "I might give you a letter that would insure
you an entrance to the Soldiers' Home. Would you
like to go there?"

<i>Veteran.</i> "O, dear! no, sir; although it may be a good
enough sort of a place. I've got a home with my darter
Mollie, who is well married, and settled in the place that I
am making for; and I know that she will never go back on
the old man, for she used to think too much of me, and be
too delighted to see me when I came home from a long
voyage in happier days. O, no, sir! (brushing the tears
from his eyes with his coat sleeve), Mollie will make room
for me."

During the colloquy, Mr. Mack was busily engaged in
writing a note, and after finishing it, went into an adjoining
room to obtain a necessary signature. He returned without
getting it, and was obliged to delay the veteran until
the official, whose name to the letter was wanted, came in.

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "You will have to wait a little while until I
can get this note signed."

<i>Veteran.</i> "All right, sir; never mind me--I'm used to
waiting. I learned that some time ago, when I waited
through the long watch at sea, till my turn came to climb
into my bunk, and when I was on post in the army, till the
relief guard came around; and when I've been away from
//084.png
.pn +1
home,--in times past, you know, I had a home of my own
once, sir,--I've waited for the day to roll around when I
would see my wife and Mollie (who was a little bit of a
thing then) again. And all I'm waiting for now is the
time when my shattered old hulk shall be laid aside as
used-up timber; and all I hope for, when that time comes,
is, that my darter Mollie may be alongside, and I shan't
mind it much."

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "Are you a native of Connecticut?"

<i>Veteran.</i> "No, sir; I'm a Baltimorean. I was born
opposite the old Independent engine-house, in Gay Street,
and my father and mother before me were born in the city,
too, for that matter."

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "A great many from your State fought in
the Southern army."

<i>Veteran.</i> "That's so, sir; they did. But how do you
think it was possible for me to do so, after having followed
the old Stars and Stripes through the Mexican war, and
having sailed under its protection for going on thirty years?
O, no, sir! I had too much love for it. Why, sir, every
port I ever entered respected that flag. They couldn't
help it; besides, they knew they had to!" (Drawing himself
up proudly.)

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "Did you enlist in a Maryland regiment?"

<i>Veteran.</i> "No, sir. I'll tell you all about it. You see
when the Massachusetts regiments passed through Baltimore,
the brig that I sailed on had just returned from a
voyage to Rio, and we were unloading in Smith's dock,
near Centre Market. The soldiers had disembarked from
the cars at the Philadelphia depot, and were marching
along Pratt Street, towards the Washington station, when
the attack was made on them. As I looked from the deck
of the brig I saw the old flag pushing and dodging along
the street, with a shower of stones and bricks flying around
it, and I heard the sound of pistol-shots and the hissing
and hooting of the mob. I happened to turn around, and
I saw the same colors proudly flapping in the wind from
//085.png
.pn +1
the mast head, and I tell you it was too much for me--I
couldn't stand it. I went to the captain, almost choking,
and I told him I wanted an order for my pay; I was going
home. I was the second mate of the brig; and the captain
was a little wrathy at the idea, for he wanted me to stay
and help him superintend the unloading of that part of
the cargo that was to be left on the dock, before dropping
down to Fell's Point the next day. I told him I must leave;
and as he had no further hold on me, he had to give me
the order. The owners were surprised, too; but after some
talk they paid me, and I went home to the old woman.
She said, 'You look excited; what's the matter with you?'
'Well,' said I, 'I am going to enlist in the Union army, and
try and help to pay these fellows that fired on the American
colors in Pratt Street to-day, back in their own coin.'
'That's right,' said she; 'I wish they'd let me carry a gun,
and I'd go with you.' And I wished for once in my life
that Mollie was a boy; for I might have made a drummer
out of her, anyway, for she was too small for anything else.
Well, you know;--but I hope I'm not tiring you with my
long yarn, sir?"

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "No; go on with it."

<i>Veteran.</i> "They were not raising any regiments in
Maryland; and I fell in with a Hoosier, who was going
home to Madison to enlist, and I promised him ten dollars
if he would get me past the surgeons. I'm sixty-six years
old; and you know I was too old for them, because they
were more particular in the early part of the war than
they were later. Well, when we got to Madison, to make
matters sure, I went and got my hair dyed; and as luck
would have it, the recruiting officers were a little drunk,
and I passed without any difficulty, though one of them
asked me how old I was, and I told them a lie, God forgive
me, that I was thirty-nine years old! I went into the
Army of the Cumberland, and at Chickamauga a shell burst
near me, and I was knocked up in the way you see."

<i>Mr. Mack.</i> "You have served with General Howard?"
//086.png
.pn +1
//087.png
.pn +1


.pm illo i_086 i_086.jpg 700px "McWATTERS AND THE VETERAN."

//088.png
.pn +1

<i>Veteran.</i> "Yes, sir; and a good, noble-hearted man he
was, too, sir. There was no airs about him. He was just
like one of the boys,-- moving around among the men in
a blue army blouse and the regulation cap, with a kind
word for everybody; and when there was a battle, wherever
there was the most danger you were sure to find
him."

Mr. Mack stepped out, and returned with the letter,
which he handed to the old veteran, with some money,
which he took with some hesitation, saying, that all he
wanted was to get a passage to New London, and Mollie
would attend to his wants.

"When I get there," said he, "Mollie will find me some
clothes to wear, for these are getting rather soiled; and
I'm kind of ashamed to be seen in them, for I've been used
to wearing a little better."

Mr. Mack told him that he only gave him the money to
buy some food on the way, and keep him strong enough to
look for his Mollie when he arrived at his destination.

"That's so, sir," said he; "I ain't got as much as will
buy me a good supper. When I left Philadelphia, I didn't
have enough to pay my passage, and I have made many a
longer march. I didn't think it was much to walk a hundred
miles, so, sooner than beg my passage, I thought I'd
walk it. My lame leg made it rather harder than I expected,
and I made slow work of it. I soon spent what
money I had for meals, and I was obliged to part with a
bull's-eye watch, that cost me twelve dollars a good many
years ago. It was pretty old, and I only got a dollar and
a half for it. Bull's-eye watches ain't worth as much as
they used to be. I sold my old pocket-book, too; but as
it didn't have anything in it, it was no good to me. I got
my breakfast this morning, and have a small balance in
my pocket, off of my spectacles, that I sold to an old fellow
that they suited exactly; and I tell you I missed them this
morning when I tried to read a newspaper with an account
of the war in Europe. I think that war is going to do our
//089.png
.pn +1
people some good. They'll want some of our corn and
wheat, and I tell you the crops did look amazing fine in the
country that I passed through. I'm getting interested in
the way things are going on on the other side of the water,
and I think I'll buy a pair of specs with some of this money
you gave me, and read to-day's news about it."

"Do you know," said Mr. Mack, "that you are entitled
to seventy-five dollars for the loss of your foot, under the
law to supply soldiers with cork legs, when they have sustained
the injury in the line of duty?"

"Well, sir," said he, "I didn't know it, but you can see
whether I am entitled to it;" and he pulled off his boot,
and showed the stump of his foot, with the same pride that
we remember to have seen a general officer display the
stump of his arm lost in action.

The exposure showed that he was without socks, his foot
being wrapped up in a handkerchief.

While he was exhibiting his stump, we observed Mr.
Mack pulling his shoes off, and we expected to see him
display a wounded foot also, when he hastily pulled off his
socks; but instead of so surprising us, he handed the
socks, which he had evidently but just put on that day, to
the veteran, and against that individual's earnest protestations,
forced him to take them to wear.

We are certain that the same angel who dropped a tear
on the record of Uncle Toby's oath, will enter those socks
to the credit side of Mr. Mack's account, at a large increase
on their market value.

Shaking hands with the battered old veteran, and wishing
him good speed on his journey to Mollie, we left Mr.
Mack in his office in a meditative <target id='tn089'>mood.
//090.png
.pn +1



.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=lostin
LOST IN THE STREETS.
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.nf c
OPERATIONS OF THE BUREAU FOR THE RECOVERY OF LOST PERSONS, ETC.--OFFICER
McWATTERS IN CHARGE.
.nf-
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>During</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
During
.if-
a considerable portion of his connection with the
Metropolitan Police, Officer McWatters had charge of the
department denominated "Bureau for the Recovery of Lost
Persons;" a position which both his experience and active
sympathies with sorrow peculiarly fitted him to fill. Its
duties were very onerous, as will be seen by the following
article copied from the World newspaper of December 12,
1868, and which cannot fail to greatly interest such of our
readers as are not conversant with life and its mysteries in
the great Babylon of America.

.hr 20%

In a side room of the main hall of the Central Police
Headquarters, on the second story, in Mulberry Street, is
a desk, at which sits an old rosy-cheeked, white-headed
police officer, named McWatters. Officer McWatters is
famous in New York. He is a theatrical critic, and his
opinions on music and the drama are greatly esteemed by
artists; but, like most critics, he is a little dogmatic at
times, perhaps.

Officer McWatters is detailed by Inspector George Dilks
to take charge of a department organized in November,
1867, to supply a great want, and which is now in successful
operation. This department is known as the "Bureau
for the Recovery of Lost Persons." Officer McWatters
was formerly in the City Hall Precinct, under Captains
Thorne and Brackett, and is very well acquainted with the
city, so his services have been made available in his new
bureau.

.sp 2
.h3 id=missingmen
<sc>Missing Men and Women.</sc>
.sp 1

The manner of investigation in regard to a missing relative
or friend is as follows: As soon as a person disappears
//091.png
.pn +1
from home, the nearest relative, on learning of the missing
person, goes to police headquarters and makes application
to the "Missing Bureau" for information. The age, height,
build; whiskers, if any; color of eyes, dress, hair; the
place where last seen, the habits and disposition of the
person, are given to the inspectors, and Officer McWatters
makes proper entries on his register, which he keeps for
that purpose, of all these facts. The personal description
of the missing one is compared with the returns made by
the Morgue every twenty-four hours to the police inspectors.
Should the description answer to the person and
clothing of any one found at the Morgue, word is at once
sent to the relatives of the joyful news. Besides this, another
very necessary precaution is taken to find the person
or persons missing. Cards are printed, five or six
hundred in number, and sent to all the police offices on
special duty in the different metropolitan precincts, with
instructions to the captains to have his men make active
and energetic search for the person.

.sp 2
.h3 id=troublesabout
<sc>Troubles about Lost People.</sc>
.sp 1
Over seven hundred people have been reported as missing,
to police headquarters during the past twelve months.
Of this number the majority have been found, it is believed,
as no record can be kept of those who are not reported
when found, by their relatives or friends, to headquarters.
Occasionally, a person who reports some one missing
belonging to them, will give all the details about him, but
if found, will fail to notify the authorities, from a sense of
shame where domestic difficulties have occurred in families,
or from laziness, or a sense of forgetfulness. Thus all
track is lost of those who have been found unknown to the
police, and accurate statistics are baffled in the matter
of inquiry.

.sp 2
.h3 id=whereandhow
<sc>Where and how People are Lost.</sc>
.sp 1

The manner in which missing men are advertised, is as
//092.png
.pn +1
follows: A card, of which the following are fair examples,
is circulated among the police.

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"<sc>Missing.</sc>--Morton D. Gifford, about twenty-five years of age, light
hazel eyes, brown hair, full beard and mustache same color, five feet six
and three quarters inches; has lost two first joints of the middle fingers of
right hand. Had on a light brown cloth suit bound with black, the vest
cut without a collar, a black cloth overcoat made sack fashion, with black
velvet buttons. Was last seen on board the steamer City of Norfolk,
running between Norfolk and Crisfield, in connection with the Crisfield,
Wilmington, and Philadelphia Railroad Annameric line, on the 3d of February,
1868. Had with him a black leather satchel, containing a full suit
of black clothes, hat, linen, &c. Was a soldier in the Union army, and
has recently been in business in Plymouth, North Carolina. Any person
having any information regarding him will please communicate with Inspector
Dilks, 300 Mulberry Street, New York."


.sp 1

.rj 2
"<sc>Office of the Superintendent of Metropolitan Police,</sc>\_}
<sc>300 Mulberry Street, New York</sc>, January 11, 1868.\_\_\_}

.sp 1

"<sc>Missing</sc>--since Thursday evening last, Mary Agnes Walsh, 23 years
of age, residing at 281-1/2 Elizabeth Street, five feet high, medium size, slim
built, dark complexion, dark-brown hair, dark eyes, had on a black alpaca
dress, black plush coat (or cloak), black velvet hat. It is supposed she
is wandering about the city in a temporary state of insanity, as she has
just returned from the Lunatic Asylum, where she has been temporarily
confined for the last three weeks. Any information of the above to be
sent to her brother, Andrew Walsh, 281-1/2 Elizabeth Street, or to Inspector
Dilks, 300 Mulberry Street."

.sp 1

"<sc>Missing</sc>, since Thursday, November 14, John F. McCormick. When
last seen, he was on board the steamtug Yankee, at the foot of Charlton
Street; age 24 years, eyes and hair dark brown, height five feet four
inches, heavy eyebrows. He was dressed in a brown sack coat and brown
vest, black pants, flat-crowned black hat. Any person knowing his
whereabouts, or having seen him since the above date, will please call at
the residence of his uncle, Robert McCormick, No. 12 Talman Street,
Brooklyn, or to Inspector Dilks, Police Headquarters, 300 Mulberry
Street. November 30, 1867."

.sp 1

"<sc>Fifty Dollars Reward.</sc>--Missing from Bay Street, Stapleton,
Staten Island, since Wednesday, November 25, 1868, Willy Hardgrove, a
boy eight years of age, medium size, dark hair, dark, clear complexion,
blue eyes; has a recent scar on his cheek, made by the scratch of a pin;
dressed in a dark striped jacket and pants; the pants button on the jacket
with light bone buttons; old, strong boots, no hat. He is rather an attractive
boy, and very familiar with strangers. It is feared he has been
abducted, from the fact of his musical abilities. He can sing, in a good
tenor voice, any tune he may hear once played, but can't speak plain.
//093.png
.pn +1
The above reward will be paid by his father, Terence M. Hardgrove,
Stapleton, for such information as will lead to his recovery. Information
may be sent to Inspector Dilks, Police Headquarters, 300 Mulberry
<target id='tn093'>Street."

.sp 1

"<sc>Missing.</sc>--Annie Hearn left her home on Monday last. She is ten
years of age, dark blue eyes, black hair cut short; has a slight scar on
her left temple. Was dressed in a dark alpaca frock, black woollen
sontag with white border; black velvet hat, no trimming, high laced
boots, striped stockings. Any information relative to her will be gratefully
received by Richard Burk, 217 Madison Street, or Inspector Dilks,
300 Mulberry Street."

.sp 1

"<sc>Left</sc> her home, at Hyde Park, Scranton City, Pa., on Monday, June
14, Sarah Hannaghan, aged 15, tall for her age, short brown hair, light eyes,
and fair complexion. Had on a tan-colored dress, light cape, drab hat,
trimmed with ribbon of the same color. Had with her a dress with a yellow
stripe, made short. Information to be sent to Inspector Dilks, 300
Mulberry Street, New York, or to James Hannaghan, 152 Leonard
Street."

.sp 1

"<sc>Twenty-five Dollars Reward</sc> will be paid for information that
will lead to the arrest or recovery of Henrietta Voss, aged 16 years. She
left Secausus, Hudson county, New Jersey, Tuesday, July 21, about 7
A. M. She is tall, slim built, and a little stooped; brown hair, blue eyes,
long, thin, pale face. Dressed in a full suit of black. The gratitude of a
father, who desires to save his daughter, will be added to the above reward.
<sc>John Voss.</sc>"

.sp 1

"<sc>Twenty-five Dollars Reward.</sc>--Missing, an insane man, named
Frederick Liebrich, native of Germany, speaks English, German, and
French. Supposed to lodge at night in the police station houses about the
lower part of the city; is very stupid looking, and clothed in rags. Was
last seen in Washington Market, about the middle of last November. He
is about 38 years of age, eyes and hair black, large, regular features, and
very dark complexion; about five feet ten inches high, stout built, straight
and well made. The above reward will be paid for his recovery, or direct
evidence of his death, by Frederick Kummich, 82 Washington Street,
Brooklyn. Information to be sent to Inspector Dilks, Police Headquarters,
300 Mulberry Street."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%

.sp 2
.h3 id=lostchidren
<sc>Lost Children.</sc>
.sp 1

Hundreds of "lost children" bear testimony to the
carelessness of mothers and nurses, who are more intent
on other business, when their charges stray off, to be found
afterwards, in out-of-the-way places, by stray policemen.
Quite often a pedestrian will notice, on going along one
//094.png
.pn +1
of our side streets, a young child, its eyes bubbling
over with tears, and red from irritation and inflammation,
who has strayed from its parents' residence. Sometimes
it will have a stick of candy in its infantile fist, or else an
apple, or a slice of bread, butter, and molasses, to console it
in its wanderings. It is very seldom, however, that these
children do not find their way back to their parents, unless
that there is foul play, in such instances where a child may
be kidnapped by people who are childless, or through their
agency, for the purpose of adoption in barren families.
The practice of baby-farming has not as yet attained, in
America, the height that it has reached in England, and
therefore the lives of children are not yet so endangered
as they are across the water. It is calculated that at least
one thousand children are missing every year in this city,
but they are nearly all returned before the close of the day
on which they are first missed.

.sp 2
.h3 id=densofmidnight
<sc>The Dens of Midnight.</sc>
.sp 1

If the thousand and one noisome crannies, nooks, and
dens of this great city could be exposed to view, day after
day, the body of many a missing man and woman might be
found festering and rotting, or their bones bleaching, for
want of decent burial. Where do the bodies come from
that are fished up, bloated and disfigured, night after
night, by the Water Police, in haunts of the docks, and
from the slimes of the Hudson? It is fearful to think of
men, influenced by liquor, who, with their gold watches,
pocket-books, and other valuables, exposed in the most foolish
manner, are to be seen, night after night, in the dens
and hells of this great, sinful city. Many of these men are
from far-off country villages and happy homes, and when
thrown into our streets at night, under the flare of the gas
lamps, and among crowds of showily dressed women, whose
feet are ever downward into the abyss, it becomes almost
impossible for them to resist the thousand and one meretricious
temptations that are placed before them.
//095.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.h3 id=horror
<sc>The Horror of a Breaking Dawn.</sc>
.sp 1

Instances may be related of how men disappear, and are
never heard of to be recognized. A well-to-do person from
Ohio, who had never visited New York before, pays a visit
to this city, and stopping at a down-town hotel, sallies out
in the evening in search of what he has been taught, by
his limited course of reading to call "adventures." He
believes, in his Ohio simplicity, that he will meet with a
beautiful and rich young lady in New York, who, struck
with his rural graces and charms, will at once accept his
hand and farm. Well, he takes a look at the "Black
Crook," or "White Fawn," or "Genevieve de Brabant,"
and, returning late to his down-town hotel, is struck by the
beauty and grace of a female form that glides before him
on his way thither. Pretty soon she makes a signal to
him that cannot be mistaken, and our Ohio friend, rather
astonished at the freedom of the aristocratic and well-bred
ladies of the metropolis, but nothing loath, hastens to her
side, and accompanies her to her richly voluptuous mansion
in Bleecker, Green, Mercer, or Crosby Streets. In
the watches of the night he awakens to find the aristocratic
lady fastened on his throat, and a male friend of hers, with
a villanous countenance, poising a knife for a plunge in his
neck. The work is done quickly; a barrel well packed,
or a furniture chest, placed in a carriage at night, can be
taken up the Hudson River road, and there dropped in the
river, and after a day or so the head of another dead man
will be found eddying and floating around the rolling piers
near the battery, his face a pulp, and no longer recognizable.
The sun shines down on the plashing waters, but the
eyes are sightless, and never another sun can dim their
brilliancy or splendor. It is only another missing man,
without watch, pocket-book, or money on his person.

.sp 2
.h3 id=miseryshame
<sc>Misery, Shame, and Death.</sc>
.sp 1

Another missing instance. A beautiful girl, born in a
village on the Sound, where the waters of that inland sea
//096.png
.pn +1
beat, and play around the sandy pebbles of a land-locked
inlet, is reared in innocence and virtue, until she reaches
her seventeenth year. She is as lovely as the dawn, has
had no excitement--but the Sunday prayer-meeting, and
her life, peaceful and happy, has never been tainted by the
novelty of desire. At seventeen she visits New York for
the first eventful time in her life. She is dazzled with its
theatres, its balls, its Central Park; the Broadway confuses
and intoxicates her, but opera has divine charms for her
musical ear, and she is escorted, night after night, by a man
with a pleasing face and a ready tongue. She is yet white
as the unstained snow. One night they take a midnight
sleigh ride on the road, and stop at a fashionable-looking
restaurant in Harlem Lane. She is persuaded to take a
glass of champagne, and finally to drink an entire bottle of
champagne. That night the world is torn from under her
feet. She has tasted of the Apples of Death. She returns
to her peaceful home, by the silken waves of the Sound, a
dishonored woman. To hide her shame, she returns to
New York; but her destroyer has gone--she knows not
whither. Then the struggle begins for existence and
bread. She is a seamstress, a dry-goods clerk, but her
shame finds her out when an infant is born to her unnamed.
One night, hungry, and torn with the struggle of a lost
hope, she rushes into the streets and seeks the river. On
a lone pier she seeks refuge from her "lost life." The
night-watchman, anxious about the cotton and rosin confided
to his charge, does not hear the cry of "Mother" from
a despairing girl, or the plunge into the gloomy, silent river
below. She is not found for days after, and then her once
fair face is knawed threadbare with the incisors of crabs,
and the once white neck, rounded as a pillar of glory, is a
mere greenish mass of festering corruption. She is not
recognized, and thus fills the page devoted to missing
people.
//097.png
.pn +1

.sp 2
.h3 id=finis
<sc>Finis.</sc>
.sp 1

Then there are the cases of girls who disappear from their
homes outside of New York, and descend into her brothels,
where they find rich raiment, rich food, a merry and
unceasing round of gayety, champagne and lovers, which
they could never hope for where they came from. These
girls leave home very often through sensuality or laziness,--for
girls are lazy as well as boys,--and when missing,
are generally found in brothels, which, as a general thing,
they will not leave for their parents. Then there are husbands
and wives who quarrel foolishly, and separate to vex
each other, and are missing for years, to finally be forced
into other illegal ties. And there is a case of a young
man, twenty, married and rich, who leaves his wife; is gone
for twelve months, and is found in New Orleans, when he
tells those who find him that he has been very sick, and
was forced to leave his happy home.

There is also, as it is well known, a great number of
infamous houses in this city where abortion is openly practised,
and where whole hecatombs of innocent children are
slaughtered, to hide the shame of their guilty mothers.
How many wealthy and refined girls are to be found in
these slaughter-houses, concealed there to hide the evidences
of their indiscretion, by their parents or relatives,
whose social position would be lost did the consequences
of such indiscretion show themselves? The mothers are
left to die in agony, again and again; and there is no
coroner's inquest or public burial; for are there not scores
of obliging physicians to hush the matter up?

And then, again, our private lunatic asylums. How
many men and women are spirited away to those tombs of
living men, where remonstrance or clamor is useless unless
the public press tracks the injury, as in the case of a well-known
naval officer, who was most unjustly confined, as
the investigation proved, and was only released by the
agitation made by The World newspaper.
//098.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=amongthe
AMONG THE "SHARKS."
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.nf c
ADVENTURES OF A FALL RIVER WANDERER--HIS VALUABLE EXPERIENCE
IN NEW YORK--THE BOND OPERATOR.
.nf-
.fs 100%

.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>A part</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
A part
.if-
of Officer McWatters' duty, when connected with
the Railroad and Steamboat Squad, was to advise and protect
strangers in the city. He, of course, encountered
many a curious country chap, making his <i>debut</i> in the
great Metropolis. One of the most comical, if not the
most valuable things Officer McWatters could possibly do
for the delectation of readers in general, would be to write
out his multifold experiences with strangers in the city,
and put the whole into book form, entitled, for example,
"Afloat in the Sea of Iniquity, Waifs Gathered There."
The following is taken from the New York Mercury of
some years ago.

Officer McWatters, whose urbanity and politeness is
proverbial, was accosted yesterday forenoon, by a young
man who had just stepped off of the Fall River boat, who
inquired of him to know the way to the Park.

"What park?" politely queried the officer.

"O, I don't know,--any park where I can sit down
a while, and see something of New York!"

"Better take a stage and go to Union Park. Everything
clean, quiet, and orderly."

The officer assisted the young man into the stage, which
soon sat him down in Union Park. The Park never looked
lovelier. Children and drums, nurses and baby-wagons,
small boys and fire-crackers, lovely maidens with books of
poesy, the water-basin and the flowing fountain, the green
trees and the luxuriant shade, all were but parts of a perfect
whole, which Mr. Jasper Gray, the young man in question,
enjoyed hugely.

Mr. Gray is a native of that enterprising village known
as Fall River, and he had come to New York to see the
//099.png
.pn +1
sights. The senior Gray had warned him to look out for the
"sharks;" and with a promise that he would do so, and
about one hundred and sixty dollars in his pocket, the
young man left his home, to sojourn several weeks in and
about the Metropolis. Mr. Gray's idea of "sharks" was,
that of some huge braggadocio, who would fiercely assault
him late at night, demand his money or his life, or assume
some other equally disagreeable mode of placing him in a
dilemma. He had no idea that under the bright sun of
midday, and in the grateful shade of the trees of a public
square, the shark was looking and watching for a victim;
but so it was.

As he cast his eye towards the fountain, his gaze rested
upon a little child playing on the greensward, now rolling
on the grass, and again approaching dangerously near the
water's edge. Once thinking that the child might fall in,
he sprang from his seat, and caught the little fellow by the
arm, and delivered him into the hands of his nurse. A few
moments after this occurrence an elegantly-dressed young
lady came up to the seat upon which he was sitting, and
begged leave to thank him for having so kindly cared for
her little brother, whom, she declared, he had saved from
falling into the water.

"Nurse has gone home with the darling, now; but I
could not feel to leave you without expressing my gratitude
for your kindness," said the lady, whose eyes shone
with brilliancy through the thin gauze veil, filling Mr.
Jasper Gray with the most undefinable feelings.

He replied awkwardly to her many complimentary expressions,
but finally became animated, and began, as all
slightly verdant people are apt to do, to speak of himself,
his connections, the town he came from, how he came to
leave, what his father told him, how much money he had,
and a hundred other equally as interesting matters. The
lady was interested. She grew animated as Mr. Jasper
Gray proceeded; and as he alluded to the one hundred and
sixty dollars with which he had been provided on leaving
//100.png
.pn +1
home, her interest seemed to have reached its height. She
declared he must accompany her home to see pa and ma,
and receive their thanks for having saved little Charlie's
life.

Really, this was too much; but the young lady insisted,
and Mr. Gray at length yielded to her solicitations, happy
in the thought that he had not only escaped the "sharks,"
but had fallen into the most pleasant of experiences with
the most respectable of people. The mansion into which
our hero was inveigled was one of the first class. The
furniture was of rosewood and brocatelle, and the lace curtains
swept the floor with their magnificent dimensions.
Elaborately carved chandeliers were suspended from the
ceiling, costly mirrors and valuable paintings decorated the
walls, and marble-top tables and a splendid piano lent their
attractions to the room. Bouquets of choice flowers shed
a rich fragrance about the place, giving it an air of
elegance and enchantment. Here Mr. Gray spent the
afternoon. An elderly-looking personage played mother,
and thanked him a thousand times for saving Charlie. Pa
would soon be home, and he would be equally grateful.
Cake and wine were served. The youth was in a perfect
sea of delights. The wine raised his spirits, and evil
thoughts entered his heart. He cast longing and loving
glances upon the fair Florine of the mansion, and the elderly
matron adroitly withdrew. More wine was served, and
the young man was in a fit condition to sing with Burns,

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.ce
"Inspiring bold John Barleycorn,"
.fs 100%

.ti 0
so bravely did the ruddy fluid lift him up.

What followed must be left to the imagination of the
reader. Suffice it to say, that the Fall River wanderer,
when in the full flush of the Paradise of which the wine
had led him to believe he was the sole master, was suddenly
confronted by an enraged father, who desired simply to
know who he was before he killed him on the spot, and
by a sobbing mother, who declared he had betrayed the
//101.png
.pn +1
confidence she had reposed in him; and last, but not the
least important, the beautiful being, whose dishevelled hair
and disarranged toilet told a woful story, standing before
him, a mute upbraider of his crime. Such a combination
of revenge, despair, and injured innocence, as the trio presented,
very nearly, but not effectually, sobered Mr. Gray,
and left him in a peculiarly muddled condition, in which,
with true Yankee simplicity, he felt for his pocket-book, as
the most available and only method of settling the accumulated
difficulties under which he found himself laboring.

It is a credit to his instinct, that the production of the
pocket-book aforesaid produced the desired result. The
mother was compromised by the payment of one hundred
dollars, and Mr. Gray was allowed to depart. He of course
sought for his new-made friend, Officer McWatters, for consolation
and advice in his emergency, and seventy dollars
of the amount was recovered last evening, and Mr. Gray
was admonished to expect the "sharks" in any and every
possible garb, from the rollicking gutter-man of the Five
Points to the extensively got-up denizens of the Fifth
Avenue or the Astor.

But we ought, perhaps, to add here an incident of Mr.
Gray's experience among the "sharks" of another kind
than that alluded to in the foregoing portion of his history.
Not willing to trust himself further alone in the city, and
wishing to make his visit to New York as profitable as
possible to himself in the sight-seeing way, he begged
Officer McWatters to permit him to go around with him on
his business tours. The complacent McWatters, who was
never known to deny any one anything proper to be asked,
and which he could give, permitted the bore to accompany
him for a day or two. Among the early sights thereafter
seen by the young man, was one, which frightened him
so thoroughly, that the wonder is his hair did not turn
white on the spot. He declared, after he recovered his
self-possession, that he "wouldn't be hired to live a week
in New York for all Old Vanderbilt's pile."
//102.png
.pn +1
//103.png
.pn +1

.pm illo i_102 i_102.jpg 700px "THE BOND OPERATOR."

//104.png
.pn +1

Officer McWatters had occasion to cross Wall Street, on
a hasty errand of business down into Beaver Street,
accompanied by his <i>attaché</i>, Mr. Gray, when they came
suddenly into the midst of a great excitement. A dandily-dressed,
rakish-looking young man was just breaking out
of a crowd, and running with hands full of papers and
a bag. Officer McWatters instantly "twigged" the nature of
the trouble, and put chase after the fellow, unceremoniously
leaving Mr. Gray in the midst of the turbulent and excited
crowd. The fleeing young scamp, who had just snatched
a package of United States bonds and a money bag from
an old messenger of some house, who was on his way to
make a deposit, was a little too fleet for Officer McWatters,
and gained on him a little; but, turning a corner, was fortunately
impeded in his flight by another policeman, who
chanced to have his pistol about him, and brought it to
bear on him. The bold "Bond Operator" (as such villains,
who were quite plenty in those days, were called) thought
discretion the better part of valor, surrendered, and got
his dues, we believe, at last.

Mr. Gray was in fearful plight over losing Officer McWatters,
and it was some time before he found him again,
meanwhile getting jostled about among the large and fierce
crowd of excited Wall Streeters, whom the interesting occasion
hurriedly brought together. He quite lost heart
for sight-seeing in that adventure, and was, at last, only
too glad to "get out of the infernal city," and went home
a wiser man, we presume, than when he first landed in the
city from the Fall River boat.
//105.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=smartyoung
A SMART YOUNG MAN.
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.ce
AN AFTER-DINNER COLLOQUY--AND ITS RESULT.
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>From</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
From
.if-
one of the public journals we clipped the accompanying
spicy article; we have lost our notes, and have
forgotten from which, or we should duly credit it to the
proper source. We discover that we have "pencilled" it
"1862," and presume that it first appeared in that year.
Our readers will pardon its somewhat "swelling" style in
sundry places, but it exemplifies Officer McWatters' quick
and acute perceptions, and his character as a detective,
and we therefore give it place.

<sc>Young Man of large Appetite and small Conscience.</sc>--The
necessity of eating is a strong one; the demands
of appetite are peculiarly and pertinaciously potent. There
are many fleshy-looking young men in New York whose
appetital demands are largely ahead of their pecuniary resources,
the latter being of a limited nature, like their consciences.
Our leading hotel diners are appreciatively
affected by these unconscionably-stomached and conscienceless
individuals; and it requires all the devices of the proprietors,
and ingenious watching of sharp-sighted detectives,
to guard against their stealthful appropriation of
dinners. In the multiplicity of guests daily arriving at
first-class hotels, and multiplied disguises assumed by the
unpaying diners, it is easy to conceive that the labor of
watchfulness is no light one, and the guarantee of detectives
by no means sure. There is no keener man in the
Police Department to scent out a rogue than Officer McWatters.
He can tell a rascal by a sort of instinct. A
stranger to him is like a piece of coin in the hand of the
skilful medallist, who tells the spurious from the genuine
by the feeling--by a glance even.

Officer McWatters measures a man at a glance. He sees
the latent roguery peering out of the corner of the eyes,
//106.png
.pn +1
lurking in the smile, hiding itself in the cultivated mustache
and careful whiskers, strongly and unconsciously
developing even in the gorgeous watch-chain, flashy vest,
showy cravat, elaborately-checked pants, and brilliantly
shining patents, or, <i>vice versa</i>, suit of puritanical plainness.
His penetrative optics permeated, yesterday afternoon, the
disguise of that most notable and audacious of non-paying
hotel diners, Jack Vinton. Jack had taken dinner at the
Metropolitan Hotel. His brassy impudence had enabled
him to pass muster, as a guest of the hotel, the Cerberus at
the dining-room door. Not to betray a dangerous haste in
leaving, he sank back leisurely into a soft-cushioned chair
in the gentlemen's parlor, and read a newspaper for a
while. He was going out of the hall door, when Officer
McWatters spotted him.

"Are you stopping at this hotel?" asked the officer
(who, by the way, was in citizen's dress), in that tone of
politeness, for which he is remarkable.

"I am, sir."

"How long have you been stopping here?"

"Ever since I came here."

"Is your name registered?"

"Registered? I never heard of such a name. Mine
begins with an initial letter of higher alphabetical rank."

"You misunderstand me. Is your name on the hotel
books?"

"The bookkeeper is the proper informant."

"Have you a suit of rooms here?"

"Am suited perfectly--all the rooms I want."

"What is the number of your room?"

"A No. 1--first-class, sir. First-class hotel has first-class
rooms, you see, sir. This is a first-class hotel--the <i>ergo</i>
as to the rooms is conclusive."

"You are evasive."

"Only logical, sir!"

"You took dinner just now up stairs?"

"Ask your pardon. I took no dinner up stairs. I went
//107.png
.pn +1
up with an empty stomach. An excruciating stomachical
void. 'Nature abhors a vacuum,' says philosophy; and, to
borrow the apothegmatic utterance of that philosopher,
Dan Brown, 'Dat's what's de matter.'"

"I must be plain, I see. You are Jack Vinton, and are
up to your old tricks. You have come here, eaten a tip-top
dinner, and were coolly walking away, with no thought
of paying for it."

Jack saw he was in for it. He offered to pay for his dinner,
and attempted by bribery to effect what he had hoped
to effect by colossal cheekiness of action and tongue; but
his antecedental history was self-crushing, like the mad
ambition of the great Cæsar. He was conveyed to the
Second District Police Court, and committed to answer
this and other graver offences of swindling, of which he is
supposed to be guilty.

Jack is only twenty-three years old, and is a master-swindler.
Of good family, he has been well educated, and
to fine looks adds the manners of a polished gentleman;
while in artistic culture and familiarity with the classics,
scientific studies and polite and poetical literature, he has
few equals of his years. His dashing form is often seen
on Broadway--the envied of his own sex and the admired
of the opposite sex. His career betrays a wonderful and
perverse mingling of the finest intellectual endowments
and culture with the meanest and most pitiable traits of
low and dishonest natures. He is a sort of Lord Bacon, on
a vastly reduced scale of brilliancy. As philosophy delves
the mysterious problem, she finds only "darkness to
shadow round about it."
//108.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=suspectedcal
A SUSPECTED CALIFORNIA MURDERER.
.hr 20%
.sp 1

.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
ARRESTED--CHARGED WITH KILLING FOUR MEN; A GERMAN, FOR HIS
MONEY, AND TWO SHERIFFS AND A DRIVER, WHO WERE CONVEYING
HIM TO PRISON.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%

.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>The</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
The
.if-
following article is taken from the New York Dispatch
(1861), and serves to illustrate the sagacity of
Officer McWatters in "picking out his man" in a crowd.

A young man named Velge, lately from California, was
arrested at the pier of the Ocean Mail Steamship Company
by Officers McWatters and Hartz, of the Steamboat Squad,
and taken to Police Headquarters, where he has been
since detained, till the matter can undergo examination
before a magistrate. The report, as obtained from an officer
at the central office, is substantially as follows:--

About eighteen months since, a German, residing in
Sacramento, was murdered under circumstances of extraordinary
brutality. He was mild and inoffensive, said no
extenuation appeared to exist for the atrocious crime. He
had saved some money, which the assassin had taken, but
the amount was hardly sufficient to induce an ordinary
bravo to attempt his life, or otherwise disturb him.

The suspected murderer was known to the police. Extraordinary
measures were adopted to bring him to justice.
His likeness was obtained somehow, and photographs of it
were multiplied and distributed all over California and
Oregon.

After some time, intelligence was received at Sacramento
that the suspected murderer was at Carson City. There
was a resemblance, certainly. The sheriff of Sacramento
and a deputy repaired thither, and arrested him. A conveyance
was obtained, and the legal formularies having all
been attended to, the officers set out for Sacramento.

The journey was tedious, as may well be expected. The
party finally neared Sacramento. Already the officers
//109.png
.pn +1
began to dream of home and rest from their fatiguing
journey. The driver was in an equally listless mood.
Velge, the prisoner, was not slow to perceive their half-somnolent
condition, and take advantage of the circumstances.

Quietly but adroitly taking hold of the revolver which
one of the officers was carrying in one pocket, he cocked
it so as not to arouse attention, and a moment after sent a
bullet through the brain of the unfortunate sheriff. The
other sprang to his feet, just in time to receive the contents
of another barrel in his body. He fell from the vehicle,
while the assassin hastened to despatch the driver. Having
thoroughly completed the work of death he fled.

The excitement produced by this triple murder was
terrible. Rewards were offered, and the State was thoroughly
searched for the felon. But it was of no avail.

Among the passengers on the North Star was a young
man of singular mien, whose appearance attracted comment.
One of the passengers had a portrait of the murderer of
the sheriffs, and found it to agree remarkably with that of
the strange passenger. He made no effort to call attention
to the matter, but took the opportunity, as soon as he came
on shore, to place the authorities in possession of the facts.
The first man whom he observed was the busy McWatters,
of the Steamboat Squad, who was making himself ubiquitous
and useful in the way of superintending the landing
of baggage, protecting passengers from runners and pickpockets,
and enabling them to come and go as best suited
their convenience.

Approaching the indomitable McWatters, Rev. Mr. Peck
addressed him.

<i>Peck.</i>--"Are you an officer?"

<i>McWatters.</i>--"Yes, sir; I hold that position, and am
proud of it."

<i>Peck.</i>--"I have an important matter to call your attention
to. Please examine this likeness."

<i>McWatters.</i>--"I see it. I would know that face in a
thousand. I could pick it out in a crowd."
//110.png
.pn +1

<i>Peck.</i>--"He is a passenger on the North Star, and I
think is guilty of murder."

Calling his comrade to his help, McWatters carefully
noted each passenger as he was leaving the steamer. As
Velge came up, Mac recognized and arrested him. He
was thunderstruck at the occurrence, and protested his
innocence. The officers conveyed him to the central
office, and laid the case before the superintendent. The
prisoner showed that he was an old resident of this city,
though only twenty years old. Several of his relatives
were at headquarters yesterday pleading his innocence.
The clergyman who had caused his arrest made his statement
to the superintendent, who finally decided to retain
the young man in custody till he could be brought before
a magistrate.

There was certainly a striking resemblance between the
portrait and the countenance of the prisoner. If the suspicions
now entertained should prove to be well founded,
this is another instance of the perpetration of crime
followed by its speedy detection.

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=extensivecounterfeiting
EXTENSIVE COUNTERFEITING.
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.nf c
SEIZURE OF FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS IN SPURIOUS POSTAL CURRENCY--ARREST
OF THE COUNTERFEITER--HIS CONFESSION.
.nf-
.fs 100%
.sp 2
.if h
<sc><b>In</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
In
.if-
the New York Times of November 20, 1865, we find
an article with the above caption, and which we copy as
below. The arrest therein spoken of created much sensation
at the time, as well it might. Officer McWatters
acted in the matter, not only as an ordinary member of the
police force, but in the capacity of a detective, and won
great credit by his sagacity.

"An important arrest was effected in Brooklyn last
Tuesday, the particulars of which have been suppressed
up to the present time. The Treasury Department at
Washington have long been aware that the business of
//111.png
.pn +1
counterfeiting greenbacks and postal currency has been carried
on to an alarming extent at different points throughout
the country, but their endeavors to arrest the guilty parties
have, with a few exceptions, been attended with failure,
or only partial success. One exceedingly skilful
engraver of bogus postal currency has been especially
marked as the most dangerous operator, inasmuch as his
execution was so perfect as frequently to deceive even the
Government officials; and the boldness of the counterfeiter
was almost as great as his skill. The man in question is
an English engraver, by the name of Charles J. Roberts.
The best Government detectives have been on his track
for six months, without succeeding in finding him, until
last Tuesday, when his arrest was effected in Brooklyn,
by Messrs. R. R. Lowell and A. J. Otto, detectives in the
service of the Treasury Department, with the assistance
of Officer McWatters, of the Twenty-Sixth Metropolitan
Precinct.

"The operations of Roberts have been mainly confined
to Philadelphia, in the suburbs of which city his "money
mill" was situated. The last counterfeit pieces which he
made, and which, in an indirect manner, led to his arrest,
were copies of the latest issue of fifty cent postal currency.
They are of steel, and the impression from them is
so beautiful and perfect, as to be entirely undistinguishable
from that of the genuine plates. Upon this counterfeit
the criminal artist had exerted his skill with the most
elaborate patience and precision, intending to make it, in
every sense, a <i>perfect</i> resemblance, which would even escape
the suspicion of the Government detectives.

"But though an engraver, Roberts was not a printer.
His plate was perfection, but unaided, or assisted only by
mediocre printers, he could not produce an impression
equally perfect. He therefore left Philadelphia a short
time ago to seek the services of a Brooklyn printer, whom
he understood to have been in the counterfeiting business,
and who was well known to be a mechanic of extraordinary
skill. Unluckily for the English operator, this printer
//112.png
.pn +1
was in the service of the Government detectives, who
were, therefore, promptly informed of the whereabouts of
the game for which they had so long been in pursuit.

"Messrs. Lowell and Otto, McWatters and others, accordingly
surprised Roberts in his Brooklyn retreat, on
Tuesday morning last, at 9-30. The counterfeiter made a
desperate resistance, swearing that he would die sooner
than be taken; but the detectives were too many for him.
He was knocked down, disarmed, and speedily lodged in
the Raymond Street jail.

"The arrest was kept a profound secret, to allow the
detectives time to effect the seizure of the plates and
counterfeit money already manufactured in Philadelphia,
which they were unable to do prior to the arrest. They
also knew of twenty thousand dollars in the fraudulent
currency, which the manufacturer had brought with him
to Brooklyn, and which they hoped to procure. After
lodging their prisoner in confinement, they immediately
set out for Philadelphia, found the mill, and seized its contents,
comprising the plates, tools, presses, fifty thousand
dollars' worth of the fraudulent currency, all in fifty cent
postage stamps. Some of it was in an unfinished state,
but the detectives declare that the completed issues would
have deceived them instantly; that they would never have
doubted their genuineness. But they were outwitted by
the prisoner, so far as the counterfeits in Brooklyn were
concerned. During the absence of his captors, Roberts
managed to have the following letter conveyed to his mistress
and confederate:--

.in +4
.ll -4
.fs 90%
.ll -2
.rj
"'<sc>Brooklyn</sc>, November --, 1865.
.ll +2

"'<sc>Mary</sc>: Please go at once, when you receive this, and tell Louisa to
come and see me at once. <i>Tell her to clean things away.</i> I am at Raymond
Street jail. Please go some roundabout way, and take care nobody
follows you. Tell Louisa to keep cool. I am all right. Do this right
away, please, to-night, and oblige,


.ll -15
.rj
"'Yours,
.ll +15

.ll -2
.rj
<sc>Charles J. Roberts</sc>.
.ll +2

.nf l
"'<sc>Mrs. Lloyd</sc>, corner North First Street and
\_\_\_\_Third Street, Brooklyn, E. D.'
.nf-

.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
//113.png
.pn +1

"This note was conveyed to the above address by the
brother of the sheriff who had the prisoner in charge,
whence it reached 'Louisa,' who, of course, 'cleaned things
away,' much to the disappointment of the detectives,
when they called for the purpose of making the seizure.
The guilty brother of the sheriff has fled, and has thus
far effected his escape.

"The detectives are now in pursuit of a confederate of
Roberts, and they are quite confident of soon capturing
him. Since his incarceration Roberts has confessed everything.
He says that the plate which has been seized was
intended for his final and greatest effort. If the detectives
had only held off for another week he would have made
one hundred thousand dollars, and been in Europe enjoying
it. We understand that Roberts's new counterfeits,
to the extent of twenty thousand dollars, are already afloat.

"Overton, the counterfeiter of twenty-five cent stamps,
who was arrested some time ago, pleaded guilty on Friday
last. Roberts will also probably be speedily convicted, and,
as he is not so fortunate as to have 'a wife and nine children,'
there is no likelihood of his receiving the hasty
pardon which was recently granted to Antonio Rosa, a
similar criminal."
//114.png
.pn +1


.if h
.pb
.il fn=i_113.jpg w=500px alt="KNOTS UNTIED"
.if-

.if t
.pb
.sp 4
Knots Untied
.if-

.sp 4
.h2 id=gamblerswax
THE GAMBLER'S WAX FINGER.
.sp 1
.hr 20%
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
CHARLES LEGATE--A FORGER--STUDYING HIM UP--FIFTY THOUSAND
DOLLARS, HIS "PRIZE"--DESCRIPTION OF LEGATE--NO TWO PERSONS
EVER AGREE IN DESCRIBING ANOTHER--A MARK HIT UPON--START
FOR ST. LOUIS--MUSINGS--CURIOUS INCIDENTS OF MY JOURNEY--A
GENEALOGICAL "DODGE"--ON LEGATE'S TRACK AT LAST--ST. LOUIS
REACHED--OF MY STAY THERE--LEAVE FOR NEW ORLEANS PER STEAMER--A
GENIAL CROWD OF MEN AND WOMEN ON BOARD--CHARACTERISTICS
OF A MISSISSIPPI "VOYAGE"--NAPOLEON, ARKANSAS--SOME
"CHARACTERS" COME ON BOARD THERE--A GAMBLING SCENE ON
BOARD--ONE JACOBS TAKES A PART--A PRIVATE CONFERENCE WITH
JACOB'S NEGRO SERVANT--A TERRIFIC FIGHT ON BOARD AMONG THE
GAMBLERS--JACOBS SET UPON, AND MAKES A BRAVE DEFENCE--HOW
I DISCOVERED "JACOBS" TO BE PROBABLY LEGATE, IN THE MELEE--HE
IS BADLY BRUISED--HIS LIFE DESPAIRED OF--WE ARRIVE IN NEW
ORLEANS--JACOBS' IDENTIFICATION AS LEGATE--LEGATE PROVES TO
BE VERY RICH--A CURIOUS VISIT TO AN ITALIAN ARTIST'S STUDIO--A
NOVEL MEDICINE ADMINISTERED TO SIGNORE CANCEMI, THE SICK
ARTIST--HE GETS WELL AT ONCE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>Early</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
Early
.if-
in my detective life, when I was more ready
than now to accept business which might lead me far
from home, I was commissioned by a New York mercantile
house to go to St. Louis first, and "anywhere else
thereafter on the two continents" (as the senior member
of the house <i>fervently</i> defined my latitude) where my
thread might lead, to work up a subtle case of forgery to
the amount of about fifty thousand dollars, out of which
the house had been defrauded by one Charles Legate, a
Canadian by birth, but combining in himself all the craft
of an Italian, with the address of the politest Frenchman,
and the bold perseverance and self-complacency of a London
"speculator." The task before me was a difficult one,
and at that time more than now I craved "desperate
//115.png
.pn +1
jobs," entering into them with an enthusiasm proportioned
to the trials and dangers they involved.

After a thorough study in every particular of the correspondence
between Legate and the house, which covered
a long period of time, and in which was disclosed to me, as
I thought, a pretty clear understanding of the man in all
his various moods and systems of fraudulent pursuit, and
having gathered from the members of the house every particular
in regard to the personal appearance of Legate, of
which they could possess me, I started on my mission.
The house had been unable for some time to get any word
from Legate, or any tidings of his recent whereabouts
from others; so we felt certain that I should not find him
at St. Louis, the point from which they had last heard from
him, and where they had evidence he had for some weeks
resided; so I was even unusually particular in my inquiries
of the firm as to Legate's mode of dress, the peculiarities
of his manner, and all possible personal indices. Legate
was one of those men whom it is difficult to describe, being
of medium height, having black eyes and black hair, a
nose neither large nor small, mouth of medium size,
teeth the same, nothing peculiar about his cast, and his
complexion sometimes quite light, at others "reddish."
There's nothing more difficult to determine by inquiry
from others than a man's complexion, no two persons seeing
it alike. He dressed neither gaudily nor carelessly, and
though my informants all agreed that he was a man of
consummate address, yet none of them could by imitation
give me any definite representation of his manner.

Almost in despair of learning anything at all definite about
his personnel, which might enable me to identify Legate, I
finally said, "Gentlemen, almost everybody is in some
way deformed or ill-formed--nose a little to one side--one
foot larger than the other, leading to a habit of standing
on it more firmly than on the other--one shoulder higher
than the other--an arm a little out of shape--hand stiff--fingers
gone, or something of the sort."
//116.png
.pn +1

"See here," exclaimed Mr. Harris, a junior member of
the firm, interrupting me, and resting his face pensively for
a half minute on his hand, the elbow of which was pressed
upon the table at which we sat. "Ah, yes; I have it.
You've hit the nail on the head. I remember noticing
once, when Legate dined with me at Delmonico's, that the
end, or about half, of his little finger of the left hand was
gone. He doesn't show it much. I remember I looked a
second time before I fully assured myself that what I first
thought I discovered was so. He is as adroit about concealing
that, as he is in his general proceedings." I felt
great relief to learn so much, and bidding my employers
good day, found myself, as speedily as I well could, on the
way to St. Louis, taking my course up the river, and on viâ
the New York Central Railroad. I suppose that it is the
fact with every business man when travelling in the pursuit
of his occupation, either as a merchant going to the
big cities to buy goods, the speculator hunting out a
good investment somewhere in real estate,--no matter
what the business,--to be more or less occupied in
thought regarding it. But no man has half or a tenth part
so much occasion for constant weariness about his business
as has the detective officer, whether he be in pursuit of an
escaped villain, working up a civil case, searching for testimony
in a given cause, or what not; for however deep
his theories, or well laid his plans, some accident or incident,
apparently trifling in itself, may occur to give him in a
moment more light than he might otherwise obtain in a
month's searching and study--a fact which is ever uppermost
in my mind when in the pursuit of my calling,
and I endeavor to turn everything possible to account.
It so happened, that when along about Syracuse on the
cars, I overheard some men, who were evidently enjoying
each other's society greatly in the narration of stories and
experiences, saying something about "home" and St. Louis;
and I fancied they were, as proved to be the case, residents
of that city; and I became consequently quite
//117.png
.pn +1
interested in them, hoping that something would occur
on their way to allow me, without obtrusion, to make
their acquaintance; for they were both men who apparently
know "what is going on around them," and very
possibly might know Legate, or something about him,
which might serve me. Indeed, I half fancied that one of
them might be Legate himself; for he would answer the
description given me of that person as well as anybody I
should be apt to find in a day's travel; and I was more
than half confirmed in my suspicions, as you can readily
surmise, when I discovered that the traveller was lacking
the little finger, or nearly all of it, on the left hand! Of
course, thus aroused, I became very watchful, and devised
various plans of getting into the acquaintance of the gentlemen
as soon as might be. But the cars rolled on and on, and
no chance occurred to place myself in their immediate
presence, although I walked up and down the aisle of the
cars, occasionally lingering by this or that seat, and
passing a word with the occupants; but somehow I could
not get at the men in question in this or any other
like way; but I kept myself as much as possible within
hearing of their ludicrous, comical, or exciting stories,
over which, at times, they laughed immoderately.

Eventually, as the cars were starting on from a station
at which we stopped for a moment, there came on board a
fine, brusque, jolly, but courtly-looking man, of that class
who bear about them the unmistakable evidences of good
breeding, frankness, and honor, and whose associates are
never less than respectable people, and who, as he brushed
down the aisle of the car in search of a seat, accosted the
man upon whom in particular I had my eye,--

"Ah, Mr. Hendricks! I am very glad to meet you," extending
his hand and giving him a cordial grasp and
"shake" which assured me that the man Hendricks was a
very different character from the Mr. Legate in search of
whom I was making my journey; and so my "air castles,"
founded upon suspicion, came to the ground. I know not
//118.png
.pn +1
why, but I really felt a relief to find that it was not Legate,
after all, notwithstanding it would have been a happy circumstance
for me, had Mr. Hendricks really been he.

But I listened still to the St. Lousians' story-telling,
which grew more and more loud as we moved on, in consequence,
I suppose, of their occasional attention to a little
flask of wine which each gentleman carried; but they
did not become boisterous. Mr. Hendricks was narrating
to his friend,--whose name by this time I had discovered
to be Phelps,--what was evidently an intensely interesting
story to the latter, when he, striking his hand very heavily
upon his leg, exclaimed, "That Legate was one of the most
accomplished villains--no softer word will do--that I
ever heard of."

"Ah, ha!" I thought to myself, "now I am in the right
company to get a clew to the fellow. But stop; he said
"was," not <i>is</i>. I wonder if Legate is dead: perhaps he
is; and I became quite fearful that he might be, and so my
mission prove entirely fruitless. But I could see no chance
to break in upon their conversation, here, or make their
acquaintance. "<i>That</i> Legate," too, might also be another
than the Charles Legate, whom I was seeking. What shall
I do? and I pondered over the matter. Finally I made
the bold resolution to interrupt the gentlemen at the first
half-favorable opportunity, my seat being one back of
theirs, on the other side of the car, and so near that I
might do so quite readily. While talking of this man Legate,
their conversation was, in the main, more subdued, and
as if half confidential, than upon other topics, which made
it the more difficult for me to interpolate a query, for I had
by this time resolved upon my plan.

Presently I heard Mr. Hendricks say, "The last I heard
of him, he'd gone to Mexico." I fancied this must relate to
Legate, and began to think that my journey might indeed
extend "over the two continents," according to my conditional
orders on starting. Presently I heard the name
Legate, and as Messrs. Hendricks and Phelps were at this
//119.png
.pn +1
time in the height of their jolly humor, I fancied they
wouldn't mind the obtrusion. I stepped from my seat to
theirs, and said, "Gentlemen, you'll pardon me, but I am
somewhat interested in the genealogy of the Legate family
both at the west and east; and just hearing you speak the
name Legate, it occurred to me that perhaps I could get a
new name to add to my list. Is it a gentleman of the western
branch of whom you were speaking?"

"O, no, sir," replied Mr. Hendricks; "the man we were
speaking of doesn't belong to the United States at all. He
was (and is, if alive) a Canadian, who lived for a while at
St. Louis. Are you a Legate, sir, or a relative of the family?
allow me to ask."

"No, sir; simply a general genealogist. You know all
men have their weaknesses: genealogical studies are
among mine."

"I asked," said he, "because, if your name was Legate,
you might have been offended, if I had told you that the
Legate we were talking about wouldn't add any grace to
your family list."

"Ah, ha! then I infer that he might have been at least
a man of bad habits--perhaps a dishonest one."

"Well, the public opinion in St. Louis is, that this man
Legate wasn't very honest, however good his general habits
may have been."

"I am sorry," said I, "that any member of the Legate
family anywhere should bring disgrace upon the name;
but we can't always help these things--a pretty good
family generally throughout the country, I find. Permit
me to ask, what was this Legate's first name? perhaps I
have heard of him before."

"Charles," said Mr. Hendricks; "or familiarly, among
his old acquaintances, 'Charley Black Eyes Legate,' to
distinguish him from a blue-eyed gentleman by the same
name. His French friends, too,--there are a great many
French-speaking people in St. Louis,--called him <target id='tn119'>'Charley
<i>Noir</i>' (Black--short for black eyes.)"
//120.png
.pn +1

Having learned so much, I was not anxious to press my
inquiries, at that time, beyond simply asking if he was still
residing in St. Louis, and was assured that he had departed--nobody
knew to what point--nine months before.
I managed, before we arrived in St. Louis, to make the
further acquaintance of these gentlemen, without letting
them at all into my business; indeed, so cordial had they
become as to insist on calling on me the next day after my
arrival at the Planter's Hotel, and giving me a long ride
about the city.

During the ride I referred to Legate, and learned from
them that he was a swindler and a gambler; that for a
while he moved in the best society in St. Louis, and was
thought a "pink of a man," possessing good manners, and
being an unusually interesting colloquist and story-teller.
He was considerable of a "romancer among the ladies,"
said Hendricks.

"Better say necromancer; that would be nearer the
truth," suggested Mr. Phelps.

"O," said I, "a man given, in short, to wine, women, and
cards, you mean?"

"Yes, exactly; but a man might be all that, and not be
a Legate," responded Hendricks. "The fact is, sir, this
Legate is a most unscrupulous villain--a man who would
hesitate at nothing. If I am rightly informed, he made a
murderous assault in New Orleans once upon an old friend
who happened to cross him in some way. It was in that
encounter, Phelps, that he lost his finger, I've heard."

I could no longer have any doubt that I was on the
right track, and I felt that there could be no danger in confiding
my special business in St. Louis to these men, who
might be able to give me great assistance, possibly. So I
told them that I was hunting this same Charles Legate, of
the frauds he had perpetrated upon the New York house,
and that I wished to find him within a given time in order
to secure a certain amount of property in Canada, which,
after a certain period, would be so disposed of as to be of no
//121.png
.pn +1
avail to my employers, and that I was willing to give any
reasonable amount for information which might enable me
to reach him.

My friends told me that they thought my case an almost
hopeless one, that Legate's sagacity could outwit the very
d----l, and that he was the most uncertain man to "track"
in the world; but they would do all in their power to find
out who were his principal associates, during the last of
his stay in St. Louis, the time, as near as might be determined,
when he left, and what course he took. They had
heard that he had gone to Mexico; but that was probably
only a "blinder."

I staid in St. Louis five days, prosecuting my inquiries;
but all I could learn of any import was, that the last which
was known of Legate in St. Louis, he was constantly with
a certain pack of gamblers, of rather a desperate order,
and that, with his quick temper, it was possible that he had
got into a fight (as some had suspected), and been made
way with--possibly thrown into the Mississippi. This
was not decidedly encouraging, and I was on the point of
writing back to my employers that it was useless to search
for Legate longer at that time; that they would have to
trust to some future accident to reveal him, if still alive,
indeed. But having another affair on hand at the same
time, which necessarily called me to New Orleans before
returning to New York, I thought better of the matter,
and merely wrote to my New York friends, that having
gotten all possible clew to Legate in St. Louis, I should
take boat next day for New Orleans, from which point they
would hear from me duly.

The next afternoon I took the steamer "Continental,"
after having made all arrangements with my new friends
in St. Louis to apprise me if ever Legate "turned up" in
that city; and down the mighty Mississippi the proud boat
bore me and a large number of the most cheerful, genial,
and hearty men and women I ever travelled with. There's
a certain frankness and generosity about the western and
//122.png
.pn +1
southern people which captivated me, when I first went
among them, at once; but though I had often been in the
west, I had never encountered a finer class of travellers
than departed with me that day from St. Louis, on board
the well-tried steamer Continental.

Nothing special, save the usual jollity, mirth, good living,
copious drinking, and lively card-playing, which characterized
a "voyage down the Mississippi," especially in those
days, occurred, and being not over well, I kept my berth
considerably--until our arrival at Napoleon, Arkansas,
where we stopped to "wood up" and take on passengers,
accessions of whom we had had all along our course, at
every stopping-place. At Napoleon quite a concourse came
on, mainly of not well-to-do people, mostly migrating to Texas
in order to better their worldly condition, as they thought.
Poor fellows! I fear many of them found themselves
doomed to disappointment. But to my story. Among the
on-comers at Napoleon were three men of marked individualities.
They came aboard separately. One of them
was quite large and comely, neatly dressed, in the style
then prevailing at the North; nothing about him but certain
provincialisms of speech to indicate that he might
not be a northern man. The other two wore long hair, and
beards, and slouched hats, and had the air of well-to-do
planters of middle age. One of them was accompanied
by a negro, the most obsequious of all his race, and
who, whenever ordered by his master to do anything, always
took great care to indicate his willingness to obey
by saying, very obsequiously, "Yes, Massa Colonel," or
"Yes, Massa Jacobs;" by which fact I of course learned
what the negro supposed, at least, his master's name to be,
but there was something about this man's appearance
which excited my suspicion, at first, that he might not be
a planter, after all.

It was near nightfall when we departed from Napoleon
and it was not long after the cabin was lighted up that the
usual card-playing was resumed; and these three men
//123.png
.pn +1
crowded, with others, round the tables, to look on at first,
and of course to take part when occasion might offer. Jacobs
was particularly observant of the games as they proceeded.
Although I saw that he had peculiar talents for
the gaming-table, I wondered why he lingered so long
before taking a hand. But he was biding his time. The
bar, of course, was pretty well patronized, and the finest
looking of the three men in question grew apparently
more and more mellow. The stakes at this time were not
large, but the players were waxing more and more earnest,
when this man--assuming to be slightly intoxicated--exclaimed,
"Gentlemen, I say, I say--do you hear me?--that
this fun is rather slow. Is there anybody here that
wants to play for something worth while? See here," said
he, "strangers, please let me draw up my seat," pushing
his chair up between those of two players; "see here;
there's a cool two thousand, that I want to double or
lose to-night," and poured from a red bag a heap of gold,
over a portion of which he clapped his large hand. "I
am in for it. Is there anybody that wants to make this
money?"

"Well, stranger," said Jacobs, "when these players can
give us room, I'm your man; that is, till my pile's gone.
'Tain't so big as yours, and it ought to go for a new nigger
down to Orleans. I must have another hand; but your
challenge is rather provoking, I must confess, and I don't
care if I try you."

The players, moved by that curiosity which such a proceeding
between "strangers" would be apt to excite, politely
made room for the combatants, and in their turn
became lookers on. The large man played well, but he
was (apparently) intoxicated, and now and then "bungled,"
giving the game into Jacobs' hands at times. My curiosity
about Jacobs was, I know not really why, constantly increasing,
and when the third of that trio had entered
the lists with a partner, I managed to slip out down to the
//124.png
.pn +1
lower deck, where Jacobs had ordered his servant, and fall
into conversation with him.

"Are you Mr. Jacobs' nigger?"

"Yes, massa; I'se Massa Jacobs' body sarvant."

"Your master's a jolly fellow--isn't he? He's a planter,
I suppose--has a great number of "hands"--hasn't
he?"

"No, Massa Jacobs don't plant. He's a banker, or a
specumater, as they call um up there."

"Up where?"

"Little Rock--we lives about five miles wess of Little
Rock."

"O, then he don't plant. What do those speculators
do? I never heard of them before."

"O, massa, you's quare--ain't you? You never knows
about the specumaters? That's quare."

"But tell me what they do;" and the darky, turning
up the whites of his eyes in a most inimitable manner,
and cocking his head to one side, while he put his big
hands into the attitude of one about to shuffle cards, went
through the motions of dealing off cards with a celerity
that indicated that he, too, might be a "specumater," as he
doubtless was, among the darkies, having taken lessons
in his master's office.

When he had finished this exhibition, he whirled about
on his heel in true negro style, and with great glee shuffled
a half dozen steps, and ended with an air of triumph, which
indicated to me that he thought his master a great man.
The slaves used, despite all they might suffer from a
cruel master, to take great pride in him if he excelled in
anything, or was a noted man.

"Your master's a great speculator, then? I reckon I
had not better try him, eh?"

"Tell troof, massa, I reckon dare's nobody on dis heah
boat that can beat massa;" and he looked very serious,
and spoke low, as if kindly warning me.

I had learned enough, and proceeded to the cabin, and
//125.png
.pn +1
watched the play. For a while Jacobs played with the large
"stranger," sometimes losing a little, sometimes winning
more, and at last gave up the play, having won quite a
sum.

Noting Jacobs' success, and the "stranger," too, having
ordered on sundry glasses of liquor during the play, and
having become apparently more heedless, others anxiously
sought his place. A party of four was made up, and the
large "stranger" and the third one formed two as partners.
Jacobs posted himself where he could signal to the large
"stranger," who, with his partner, went on now winning
great successes. Frequent charges of "cheating" were
indulged in by the losers, and Jacobs was appealed to to
decide the points in issue, which he always did favorably
for the large "stranger." But as the losses grew
heavier, the suffering parties became incensed, and charged
Jacobs as coöperator with the large "stranger" and his
partner; and finally some one on board declared that
he knew Jacobs and the large "stranger" to be chums;
that they travelled together up and down the river, swindling
everybody they could "rope in" to play. This, being
whispered about at first, became finally talked aloud; and
then commenced fearful criminations and recriminations
among the parties. Pistols and knives were freely brandished,
and a grand melee seemed on the point of breaking
out; and it did break at last, fearfully. All the while
my eye was upon Jacobs. I could not, for some reason,
avert it. Somehow he seemed to me to wonderfully resemble
the description I had had of Legate; but there was
this difficulty in the way of my suspicions. Jacobs wore
upon the little finger of his left hand a large seal-ring, and
there was unmistakably a full-formed finger, which articulated
at the joints properly, and I must be mistaken. During
the earlier part of the disturbance, which the officers
of the boat tried in vain to quell, the big "stranger" had
been the chief centre of abuse and attack; but suddenly
some one exclaimed, "That black-muzzled wretch is worse
//126.png
.pn +1
//127.png
.pn +1
//128.png
.pn +1
than the big one," and the whole party of sufferers turned
instantly upon him. Jacobs was a brave fellow, and with
cocked revolver in hand breasted the whole, and swore he
would kill the first man who laid hands on him, standing
then on one side of the cabin with his back to the door of
a state-room. Suddenly a passenger, who had retired for
the night, opened the door behind him, and Jacobs, being
stiffly braced against it, "lurched" for an instant, when an
agile, wiry fellow of the angry crowd suddenly jumped forward
and grasped his revolver, turning its muzzle upwards,
when off went the pistol--the first shot, which was a signal
for a desperate conflict, in which Jacobs struggled hard
for the possession of his revolver, but was overpowered, and
most severely beaten, so much so, that he had finally to be
carried to his berth; and I followed the crowd that bore
him there. He was speechless and nearly dead, I thought,
and they laid him in his bunk. I noticed that the ring had
gone from his finger, and with it, lo! the end of the finger
also, leaving only the first joint and part of the second.
I examined the stump, and saw that it was old. No further
doubt rested on my mind that Jacobs and Legate were one
and the same, and I immediately called the attention of
the passengers to the loss of the ring and the finger, and
caused search to be made for the same, which we found
evidently unharmed, having somehow fallen into the state-room,
the opening of the door of which first threw Jacobs
off from his balance. I took charge of the finger, which
was made of hardened wax, as my trophy, and some one, I
knew not who, took the ring.

.pm illo i_126 i_126.jpg 700px "THE WAX FINGER DISCOVERED."

The big "stranger," who was badly bruised too, was not
so much wounded that he could not be about next day,
but kept aloof from poor Jacobs, probably because he had
protested utter unacquaintance with him, and the next
night, with the third "stranger," got off the boat, it was
supposed, at the point where the boat stopped to wood, for
the next day they were nowhere to be found on the boat;
but poor Jacobs was so <target id='tn128'>severely handled that his life was
//129.png
.pn +1
despaired of by a doctor on board, and we took him along
to New Orleans. Meanwhile I had made my suspicions
and business known to the captain of the boat, and we
took means for Jacobs' detention on board after the rest
of the passengers should leave. But, poor fellow! there
was hardly need in his case for so much caution or prevision,
for when we arrived in the city, Jacobs could not
have left the boat had he tried, so weak and sick was he.
I left him on board, and hastened to the office of a friend
of mine, once a detective in New York, and told him the
story, asking his counsel how best to proceed.

"Why," said he, "this is a strange affair; but I think
I can put you in the way at once of identifying this Jacobs
as the very Legate whom you are after. Indeed,
rest assured that he <i>is</i> your man, without doubt." Going
to his drawer, he produced and showed to me an advertisement
of a year before, offering a reward of two thousand
dollars for the arrest of one "Charles Legate, alias Charles
L. Montford," giving a description of his person, but pointing
especially to the fact that he was wanting a portion
of the little finger of the left hand. "You see," said my
friend, "that <i>we</i> have an interest in the fellow as well as
you. If he is our man, we are all 'hunky-dory,'" said he,
"for he is very rich, as we have found out--know where
his money is."

"Rich?" asked I. "Why, then, does he continue to lead
the life he does?"

"Why? Why, indeed, such a question from an old detective
like you astonishes me: it wouldn't, though, if a
woman, or a fool, asked it," said he, giving me a curious
wink. <target id='tn129'>"Don't you know yet that the Mississippi is infested
with old gamblers rich as Jews, and who can't give up
their pious trade to save their lives? Come along." And
he took me down St. Louis Street a ways, and stepped into
a side street, and standing before a door a moment, said,
"Give me the finger, and follow me." We mounted a couple
of flights of dirty stairs, and my friend opened a door into
//130.png
.pn +1
a sort of anatomical museum of old gypsum and wax casts,
and all sorts of small sculptural devices.

"Mr. Cancemi at home?" asked my friend of a weird-looking
lad, whose hands were besmeared with the plaster
he was working. "Si signore," (yes, sir), was the reply;
"but my fader is much sick, questo giorno" (to-day).

"But I must see him a moment. Won't you go ask him
to come down?"

The family, it seemed, occupied rooms in the loft above.
The boy hurried off, and presently the father came down
with him, almost too feeble to walk.

"Cancemi," said my friend, "you are sick; but I've
brought you some medicine that will cheer you up at
once."

"Ah, Dio," exclaimed the old Italian, "I vish it be so.
I am much ammalato (sick). What have you brought?--Tell
quick."

"See here!" said my friend; "did you ever see that
before?" producing the finger. The old Italian seemed a
new man as his eyes dilated at the sight with wonder,
and he went into raptures over the matter, the reason for
which I could not understand, and in his broken English
muttered a thousand exclamations of surprise and joy. Of
course he identified the finger as the one he had made for
the "villain-scoundrel Legate." Legate, I found, had
never paid the Italian for his skillful handiwork, and he
had been promised a portion of the reward, if my friend
should succeed in earning it--hence his joy.

We left the old Italian soon, and proceeded to the boat,
where we confronted Jacobs, and made him acknowledge
his identity with Legate. My business was made known
to him. He lay on the boat for two days, until her return
trip, when we had him carefully taken to a private hospital,
where he could, beyond possibility of escape, be confined,
and awaited his slow recovery under the best medical
and other attendance we could procure. I telegraphed
to my parties in New York, one of whom came on directly,
//131.png
.pn +1
reaching New Orleans within ten days from that time; and
before two weeks had passed from the time of his arrival,
we had settled matters with the now penitent, because
caged, Legate; and the New Orleans parties who had
offered the reward were now called in by my detective
friend, and settled their affairs with him by accepting a
mortgage he held for twenty-five thousand dollars on a
sugar plantation in the Opelousas country, paying the reward
to my friend, and losing nothing in the result.

Only for the advertisement in the New Orleans paper,
probably Legate would never have thought to procure a
false finger; but for which I should never have been able
to satisfy myself that Jacobs, in his bruised and battered
state, was the identical Legate, and might have left him
without further investigation on the boat.

The old Italian recovered his health speedily in his joy
over Legate's capture, and was not forgotten by my friend,
who, by the way, but for this old artist, would of course
have never known of Legate's attempt at disguising the
only peculiar mark about him, and would not, therefore,
have been so sure of his identity when I told him my story.
"Straws show which way the wind blows," and "fingers,"
though they be inanimate and waxen, may "point," you
see, unmistakably to a villain.
//132.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=lotteryticket
LOTTERY TICKET, No. 1710.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
A DIGNIFIED REAL-ESTATE HOLDER, VERY WEALTHY, LOSES SEVEN THOUSAND
TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FIVE DOLLARS--OUR FIRST COUNCIL
AT THE HOWARD HOUSE--VISIT TO HIS HOUSE TO EXAMINE HIS SAFE
AND SERVANTS--A LOTTERY TICKET, NO. 1710, FOUND IN THE SAFE--HOW
CAME THIS MYSTERIOUS PAPER THERE?--CONCLUSIONS THEREON--VISIT
TO BALTIMORE, AND PLANS LAID IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE
LOTTERY AGENT TO CATCH THE THIEF--THE TICKET "DRAWS"--THE
NEW YORK AGENCY "MANAGED"--TRAP TO IDENTIFY THE THIEF--THE
SECURITY AND "SOLITUDE" OF A GREAT CITY--A NEW YORK
BANKER--MR. LATIMER VISITS A GAMBLING-HOUSE IN DISGUISE.--IDENTIFIES
THE SUSPECTED YOUNG MAN--THE AGENT AT BALTIMORE
WAXES GLEEFUL--HIS PLAN OF OPERATIONS OVERRULED--MEETING
OF "INTERESTED PARTIES" AT THE OFFICE IN BALTIMORE--A LITTLE
GAME PLAYED UPON THE NEW YORK AGENT--MR. WORDEN, THE THIEF,
IDENTIFIES THE TICKET, AND FALLS INTO THE TRAP OF A PRE-ARRANGED
"DRAFT"--DISCLOSES SOME OF THE IDENTICAL MONEY STOLEN--WE
ARREST HIM--EXCITING SCRAMBLE--THE MONEY RECOVERED--WORDEN'S
AFTER LIFE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2
.if h
<sc><b>"Your</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
"Your
.if-
name is ----, I believe, sir?" asked a tall, gray-haired
gentleman of me one evening, as I was stepping
out of the Carleton House, a hotel then on the corner of
Broadway and Leonard Street.

"Yes, that's my name," offering my hand to receive the
already extended hand of the gentleman.

"I have sought you," said he, "at the suggestion of
my friend and lawyer, James T. Brady; who tells me that
you are able, if anybody is, to help me in my loss."

"You've had a loss? Well, sir, you wish to tell me
about it. Shall we go in here, or where shall we go to
talk it over."

"Can we not walk up Broadway, and I tell you during
our walk?"
//133.png
.pn +1

"Probably that would not be the best way," I replied,
"for it is doubtless as a detective that you need me, and
we might meet somebody who knows me as such, and who
might be the very last person whom I should like to have
see us together," I replied.

"You are right, sir," said he, smiling. "Your caution
shows me that you understand your business; but it is
too late to go far up town to my house.--I have it. I'll
call at the Howard House, take a private room, and you
follow, in half an hour, say, and finding this name on the
register with my room, come up. Here's my card. Come
directly to the room, and say nothing."

"That's a good plan, sir. I will be there;" and he
left, and I, having finished my business at the Carleton,
wandered slowly up Broadway to kill time, wondering
what such a stately, dignified, cool-headed sort of a looking
man as he--a real estate holder to large amount, a
man whom everybody knew by reputation as one of the
most quiet in the city--could have for me to do. I suspected
forgery, arson, or some attempt at it, and a dozen
other things. But I drove them all out of mind in a few
minutes, for it is never well for a detective to indulge in
anticipations in such a juncture of affairs; and meeting
just then an old friend, beguiled a few minutes with him
along Broadway, and finally taking out my watch, saw I
had only ample time to get to the Howard at the time appointed,
and so "suddenly recollected" an appointment,
excused myself to my friend, sought the Howard and the
gentleman there, whom I readily found in waiting for me.

"You are here on the moment," said he, as he closed
and locked the door on my entry. "Take this seat, if you
please, and I'll try to be short with my story."

"Go on, sir," said I; <target id='tn133'>"but please don't be in too much
haste. I have plenty of time; but tell me all your story
as you would, and probably did, to Mr. Brady."

"Well, sir, day before yesterday morning I missed from
my safe, at my house, seven thousand two hundred and
//134.png
.pn +1
fifty-five dollars, which I placed there the night before,
having received most of it that day, at an hour too late to
make deposit of it in bank;" and here he paused.

"Well, sir," said I, "who took it? That's the question,
I presume, which you wish to solve."

"Yes, that, of course, is the point; but I can't fix my
suspicions upon anybody."

"You say that most of this money was received after
banking hours. Suppose you tell me next where and of
whom you received it, and in what amounts, for I infer
that you did not receive it in a lump."

"No; I collected it partly from rentals due, and some
came to me from the country,--notes due,--and some
from the sale of a cargo of pressed hay over at Jersey
City, and I did not get around in time to put it in bank,
such as I had, before closing hours," looking at memoranda.

"Well, I am glad you have memoranda of the amounts.
Now tell me where you received these, each one;" and he
went on to tell me, in detail, where, and who was near by,
if anybody, in each case where a tenant or other debtor
paid him money. I listened intently, and could get at
nothing worthy of note till he came to the hay transaction
at Jersey City. It appeared that there were several persons
standing about at the time of the payment of the
money to my client (call him Latimer, for further convenience),
mostly working-men, some dealers, loafers, and
two or three well-dressed, but rather dashily-dressed, young
men. Mr. Latimer had been obliged to take out considerable
money from his own purse, in order the better to
arrange it to put in the amount then received; and feeling
that he had quite an amount of money, even at that time,
and he added some before he reached home, put his purse
in his inner vest pocket, thinking of nothing worse than
possibly encountering pickpockets, or losing his money by
accident on the way. In his vest pocket he thought it
//135.png
.pn +1
secure, and secure it was to take home, but not secure for
keeping.

The result of our conference was that evening, that I
should be obliged to go with Mr. Latimer to his home the
next morning, when he would call at my office for me. I
could not go that night, and perhaps it was as well; for I
had a business appointment which led me, not an hour
after parting with Mr. Latimer, into certain haunts where
I fancied,--it was mere imagination, if it were not instinctive
perception, in which I do not much believe, although
many mysterious things have occurred in my life which
seemed to be governed or directed by some subtle law,
which the human brain is not yet strong enough to discover,--where
I fancied, I say, that I saw some of the money
which Mr. Latimer had lost, displayed, and distributed in
dissipation. In short, I imagined that I had stumbled
upon the thief, and had I known the character of the bills,
which Mr. Latimer, however, could not tell me much about,
I might have seized my man then and there.

But the next morning I visited Mr. Latimer's house in
an up-town street, which was not then, as now, compactly
builded; at least, in the portion of it where he dwelt. I examined
everything about the premises, concluded where a
thief might have gotten into the house without much
trouble, and finally commenced questioning Mr. Latimer
about his family, the servants, etc. None of Mr. L.'s family,
except his wife, were at home. Two boys, or young
men, were at school, rather at college one of them, and
both far away, and the daughters were at the female seminary
in Cazenovia. As to the servants, in whose honesty
Mr. Latimer had the utmost confidence, I had them called
into my presence, and questioned them about the condition
of the house on the night of the robbery. One of
them heard some slight noise, at some time between twelve
o'clock and four in the morning; was not definite. The
others slept soundly; heard nothing. They did not seem
to me likely to be connected with anybody, or to have
//136.png
.pn +1
lovers who would be apt to be of the class who might
have robbed the safe. Besides, nobody, not even Mrs.
Latimer, knew that Mr. L. had deposited any amount
of money in his safe that night. He was of the order of
men who attend strictly to "their own business," too
strictly, sometimes, when evidence is wanted especially.
His bedroom adjoined the room in which the safe stood,
and was so situated in regard to a pair of "back stairs,"
that if the robber had come in from the back (on the
theory of his possible complicity with the servants), he
could have hardly gotten into the room without disturbing
Mr. and Mrs. Latimer, unless on that night, which was
probably the case, they slept with unusual soundness. I
concluded that the robber must be an expert one, and
somehow I constantly referred in mind to the fellow whom
I have alluded to before as having been seen liberally dispensing
money. He seemed to me competent for the business;
but there was one thing which I left to the last,
which arose in my mind at first on my interview with Mr.
Latimer at the Howard; but I said nothing of it then, for
I had learned that the best way is to approach the most
serious troubles softly; as often the "course of things," as
they take shape in an interview, will better point out how
this or that mystery occurred than all the attempted solutions
which one might, <i>a priori</i>, project for a week, and
that one thing which perplexed me was, How did the robber
unlock that safe? He must either have been familiar
with the house and the safe, and perhaps had a key to it,
or he must have carried about him, probably, several safe
keys, one of which happened to fit (and the key to this
safe was a small one, fifty of the like size of which would
not much trouble a burglar to carry), or he must have
gotten possession of Mr. Latimer's key. But his key was
in his vest pocket, and his clothes were on a chair at the
head of his bed, he said, on my inquiring,--there's where
he left them, and there was where he found them in the
morning,--and he was sure he locked his safe securely
//137.png
.pn +1
after putting the money in. I finally, as the concluding
portion of my examination, asked Mr. Latimer to let me
see the inside of his safe, and to show me where he deposited
the money. He unlocked and opened the safe,--a
simple lock concern, proof really against nothing but fire,
perhaps; for although it was supposed that the keyhole
was so small, and the safe so constructed, that burglars
could not get sufficient powder into it to blow it up, yet
it would not have stood a minute against the skill and
power of professional burglars; but to open it, as they
would have done, would have necessitated noise enough to
have awakened Mr. Latimer, especially as the bedroom
door was open. Mr. Latimer had put the money into a
little drawer in the safe, and turned the key of that, which
key, however, remained in the drawer lock. But the
drawer was tight, and we tried a dozen times to pull it
out without making a creaking noise, without avail; so I
concluded that, on the whole, Mr. Latimer and his wife
<i>had</i> slept that night pretty soundly.

We were about closing the safe again,--I having made
due examination, and asked all necessary questions,--when
Mr. Latimer, thinking to arrange a half dozen or so
papers which had been thrown loosely upon the bottom
of the safe, took them up in one grasp of the hand, and
commenced to put them in file, when out of his hand
dropped a little white card with figures on it, which arrested
his attention. He picked it up, looked at it with
astonishment, and said, "That's a curious thing to be
here," handing it to me. "You will perhaps think me a
sporting man, a devotee of the Goddess of Luck; but I
don't know who put that here." "Who has access to
your safe besides yourself?" "My wife; she has a key."
"O," said I, "perhaps she's put it here then." "Not she,"
said he. "She'd turn pale with horror if she had found
that here, in fear that I might be trifling with lotteries.
A brother of hers spent a good-sized fortune in lottery
tickets, and died of disappointment and chagrin over his
//138.png
.pn +1
course. Not she!" "Yes, I know," said I; "still she
may have put it there, if not for herself, for one of the
servants, perhaps; for you know many servants have a
mania for 'trying their luck.'" So Mrs. Latimer was
called, and asked about the lottery ticket. There was no
mistaking her seriousness when she said that if one of the
servants had asked her to lock up the ticket for safety,
she would have taken it and torn it to pieces before her
eyes. I was satisfied. But how came the ticket there.
"No. 1710, Great Havana Consolidated Lottery," to be
drawn on such a day, through the house of Henry Colton
& Co., Baltimore. This is as near as the notes of my diary
of those days, much worn, permit me to recount the words
and figures of the ticket as I took them down in pencil. I
studied the ticket, and saw from a note at the bottom that
some days would elapse before the drawing was to come
off. It was a fresh ticket then, evidently. But how did
it get there? Mr. and Mrs. Latimer knew nothing about
it--that was clear. It had not been there long--that
was equally clear. I questioned Mr. Latimer about the
condition of the loose papers in the bottom of the safe. It
appeared he did not observe much order in them, so I could
learn nothing by that query. Finally, I concluded that
perhaps in pulling out the drawer the robber experienced
considerable trouble, and that if he had the ticket in his
vest pocket at the time, in bending over, and exerting
some force to pull out the drawer, he might have dropped
it on the floor, and perhaps his curiosity led him to pull
out the papers too, some of which fell from his hand, and
he picked them up, the ticket along with them. I settled
upon this, and there was a clew to the robber, if nothing
more. But how did he unlock the safe? This question
remained unanswered. Perhaps with a false key, as I
have before suggested; but this lock was one supposed to
need a special key, none other exactly like it in the whole
world. After we had finished our examination, Mr. Latimer
closed the safe door, gave a turn to the knob, and
//139.png
.pn +1
jerked out the key. I do not know what led me to think
of it, but I asked, "Have you locked it?" "Yes," said
he, "that's all you have to do to lock one of these safes,"
at the same time taking hold of the knob, and pulling it, to
show me how securely and simply it was fastened; when,
lo, open came the door! Mr. Latimer was confounded,
and I confess I was greatly surprised. It might have
been that the robber that night found as easy access to
the drawer as Mr. Latimer then. We examined the working
of the lock as well as we could, and found that something
must be deranged, for although it would, on turning
the knob, give a "thud," as if the bolts were driven home,
it did not always put them in place. Mr. Latimer had his
safe repaired after that, and found some "slide" in the
lock-work a little out of place.

But I had gotten the ticket, and I told Mr. Latimer that
we must work out the problem with that, or fail; and I
sent Mr. Latimer about to his debtors, who had paid him
the stolen money, to see if any of them could remember the
denominations of the bills, and by what banks issued, which
they had given him. He found something in his search
which seemed likely to serve me. I gave Mr. Latimer
my theory of the case, and pointed out to him the course
I should pursue, and we concluded that a week would
probably bring us to the determination to try longer, or
would put us on the clear track of the robber or robbers,
for there might have been more than one. Mr. Latimer
authorized me, in case I saw fit, to offer a reward of five
hundred or a thousand dollars for the robbers, or double
these sums for the robbers and the money.

My first step was to go to Baltimore, where I learned
that the ticket was genuine, but I could not learn the
name of the person to whom it was issued. I had obtained
it, I represented, of a man who never bought tickets,
and was curious to know of whom he got it: but it was
of no use to inquire. They kept faith with their customers.
I could have inquired, with perhaps more success, of
//140.png
.pn +1
the agent in New York, but I dared not venture to see
him. Some special friend of his might have bought that
number,--"1710,"--and he would tell him of the inquiry,
and the robber might suspect that he had lost it on Mr. Latimer's
premises. The New York agent had fortunately
made his report to the "general office" in Baltimore a
day or two before. I left the lottery office, baffled for a
moment, but I soon laid a plan. If this ticket wins,--and
I shall know by the drawn numbers as published in the
papers immediately after the drawing,--then I will "lay
in" with the ticket agent, with the bribe or "reward"
of five hundred or a thousand dollars, to help me detect
the robber; and if the ticket fails to win, I will make the
ticket agent my confidant, and have him despatch a note
to the person to whom this ticket was sold, saying that
"1710" has drawn a prize, to be paid on presentation of
the ticket; and in this way get the man into my clutches.
So thinking to myself, I concluded to stop in Baltimore till
after the drawing, which occurred three days from that
time.

As fortune had it, the ticket--"1710"--was lucky,
and drew a prize of three thousand dollars. I went to the
agent, and putting him under the seal of secrecy, with the
prospect of five hundred dollars, and one half of the money
drawn by the ticket besides, we arranged to catch the
robber, if possible. The New York agency would claim
the privilege of paying the three thousand dollars itself,
for this would help to give it the reputation of selling
lucky numbers, and increase its sales, and consequently
its profits. Of course the New York agency was alive to
its interests; but where was the ticket? The man to
whom it was sold was expected to present it at once at
the New York agency; but it didn't come, and he was
advised of its having drawn a prize. But it was lost, he
said; and the New York agency, desirous of making capital
for itself, ordered the payment of the prize money
through it, advised with the home office. It was finally
//141.png
.pn +1
concluded that the buyer might make affidavit, before a
notary public, of the fact that he purchased the ticket
No. 1710; that he had not transferred it to anybody else;
that he had lost it, and when. And it was suggested that,
as possibly the ticket might yet be presented by somebody
who might have found it, it would be well for the buyer to
state whether he had given it any private mark--his initials,
or something else,--which is often done. This was
done to excite the robber's memory about it, and drew
forth from him a statement that he had not marked the
ticket, but remembered that it was "clipped" in a certain
way, cutting into the terminal letter of a line across the
end; which was just what we wanted, as it identified him,
beyond a doubt, as the real purchaser. He swore he had
not transferred the ticket, but had lost it somewhere, as
he alleged that he believed, on such a day (which chanced
to be the very day on the night of which the robbery occurred),
somewhere between the corner of Fulton Street
and Broadway (where was located then a day gambling-saloon)
and Union Square. This was indefinite enough for
his conscience, I presume. Of course a name was signed
to the affidavit, but how could we know that it was correct?
Together with this came the agent's affidavit that he
sold to such a person the ticket. We arranged that payment
should be made to the affiant if the ticket was not
presented by somebody else within a month; and if it were
presented before that time, he should be informed, and the
proper steps taken to secure him his money. This was
communicated to the New York agency, and I left for
New York to find out who was this "Charles F. Worden,"
the purported purchaser of the ticket; and the Baltimore
agent came on to see the New York agent, and adroitly
draw out of him a personal description of this "Worden,"
for we suspected that the agent and he were special
friends. The Baltimore agent had no difficulty in executing
his part of the work, and indeed effected an interview
with Worden, whom, with the New York agent, he
//142.png
.pn +1
treated to a superb supper at the Astor House. When
he came to give me a detailed account of the fellow's personal
appearance, I recognized him, especially by a curious
bald spot on the left side of the head, and which he
took some pains to cover by pulling his long hair over it,--which,
however, did not incline to stay there,--as the
young man whom I had seen in the gambling saloon on the
night that Mr. Latimer first consulted me at the Howard.

I now felt quite sure of my game; but was confident
enough that I should find that the young man bore some
other name than "Worden." Suffice it that it was the work
of a couple of days only before I had my man in tow, knew
all about him, his antecedents, etc. His family was good.
He had been prepared for college, at the Columbia College
Grammar School; was a young man of fair average
capacity, but by his dissipations managed to make himself
an eyesore to his family. His father, who was a well-to-do,
if not rich merchant, doing business in Maiden Lane,
had, in order to "reform" him, "given him up," and
ordered him to shirk for himself, something like a year
before this. He went into a grocery store, being unable
to get work elsewhere, and had done very well for three
or four months; but there was a private room in the back
of the store where liquor was sold by the glass--one of
those places which are now known by the felicitous name,
"Sample Rooms," the disgusting frequency of which all
over New York, and in many other cities, is so remarkable;
places which are really worse than the open bars
of hotels, or the regular "gin mills" (if I may be permitted
to use the vulgar phrase), because in these sly, half-private
places is it that most young men learn to drink, and here
it is, too, where many a man, too respectable to be seen
frequenting the open liquor stores of his vicinity, steals
in and guzzles his potations, on the sure road to a drunkard's
fate--failure in business, ruined constitution, and
final poverty and disgrace. Here the young man, "Worden,"
as he now called himself, had fallen in with genial
//143.png
.pn +1
company, who came to his employers to "buy groceries,"
and to drink, and among them had made the acquaintance,
in particular, of a down-town "banker," who boarded in
the vicinity of the grocery, which was on the corner of
Bleecker Street and ----. This banker was a fascinating
fellow, and young Worden soon fell in love with him. By
and by he found out what sort of a "banker" was his
new-made friend--the same who kept the day gambling-rooms
on the corner of Fulton and Broadway. It is astonishing
how little one may know of the business of his
neighbors whom he meets every day in New York, unless
he takes special pains to find out. The "solitude of a
great city" is no mere Byronic fancy. One could hardly
be more solitary in the dense woods than a man may be
in the midst of the throngs of men and women he may
meet in New York. He sees them--that is all. His
heart is closed to them, and theirs to him, as much as if
they were in China, and he the "lone man" on some
island of the West Indies. So that "banker" passed for
a rich, active, business man, in the vicinity of Bleecker
Street and ----, within less than a mile, perhaps, of this
nefarious den. Young Worden was easily led on till he
got to neglecting his business when sent out on errands,
or down town to the wholesale grocers; and finally the grocer
discharged him for neglect of business; and how he had
lived since then was a mystery to his old companions, who
found him afterwards always better dressed. The secrets
of his history, from the time of his discharge up to the
time of the robbery, as I finally learned them, would form
an interesting chapter by themselves, but are out of place
here. An incident in his career, however, may yet find
place in these papers, because it was interlinked with an
extraordinary case which at another time I worked up, and
of which I have made note, in order, if my space permit,
to recite it in this work. It must suffice now, that despair,
resulting from the loss of money at the gambling-table,
and which he was not for some days able to win
//144.png
.pn +1
back, though he hazarded his last dollar, drove the young
man to commit a small robbery, or theft, from the purse of
one of his fellow-boarders, when the latter was asleep one
night. The full success of this hardened him, and led
him on. If detection could always follow the first offence,
the number of criminals would be far less. But few will
"persevere" beyond a detection, if it comes early enough
in their career.

I had made sure of my man. But he was not caught
yet, by any means; besides, the Baltimore agent and I had
something further to do together. Upon him depended
much. I had the ticket in my possession, and the young man
had sworn to it--identified it in his affidavit, to be sure;
but he would insist that he lost it, and that somebody who
found it must have robbed the safe, if we should pounce
upon him now. So I went to Mr. Latimer, and managed to
take him, in proper disguise, to a gambling saloon, which this
young man frequented, and he thought he recognized him
as one of the persons standing near him on the day the money
for the hay was paid him in Jersey City; and before we left
the saloon,--staid half an hour perhaps,--Mr. Latimer
was quite willing to swear to the young man's identity as
one of those present at the hay transaction. But this would
not be enough to convict the young man, unless we could
find some of the stolen money upon him, or among his effects,
which I felt sure we should do, for I saw that he was gambling
those days sparely, like one who means to win, and
keep what he wins. I reasoned that the robbery had given
him a snug little capital; that he felt his importance as
a "financial man," and that perhaps he was resolving to
gamble but little more, give up his old associates, and with
what he had, and what he would obtain from the lottery,
go into business, and perhaps win his way back into his
father's favor. And I reasoned rightly, as a subsequent
confession of the young man proved.

In his investigations among the creditors who had paid
him the sum stolen, Mr. Latimer had found out a fact on
//145.png
.pn +1
which I was relying for aid in the course of the work, as
I have intimated before; and renting on that becoming
important in the line of evidence, I repaired to Baltimore,
and told the general agent that I thought it time now to
draw matters to a close. We arranged our plans. The
New York agent was informed that the ticket had been
presented at the general office, and the prize demanded;
that it would be necessary for the young man and himself
to come on to Baltimore to meet the presenter of the ticket,
and that he was to call again in three days. The general
agent was in great glee over the matter; for I had
arranged with him that he should have the whole of the
three thousand dollar prize as his own, if he would not
demand the five hundred dollars reward of me, in case the
matter worked out rightly, and we managed to get back
a good share of the money stolen from the young man.
He was for attacking the young man at once, as soon as
we could get him into the private office, and charging him
with the robbery of Mr. Latimer's safe; overwhelming him
with the history of his being that day in Jersey City, and
showing him the trap we had set to get him to identify
the ticket so minutely, etc.; but I feared that the young
man might not be so easily taken aback, and we agreed
to wait for something else which might, in the negotiation,
turn up. I had not informed the agent yet of what Mr.
Latimer had discovered in his investigations about the kind
of money paid him, but had arranged with the agent that
if things came to the proper point he should offer to pay
the young man by a draft on New York, and should say
to him, that if it would be convenient he would rather
make the draft for three thousand and five hundred dollars,
and let the young man pay him five hundred dollars, as
that amount would draw out all his deposit, and close account
with the bank in question, he having determined to
do his business with another bank. So much I had asked
which he said he would do; and duly the young man and
the agent came on. We had a private conference; I being
//146.png
.pn +1
disguised, with spectacles and all, as the legal counsellor
of the lottery men. The agent from New York was
present. I had asked the young man many questions
about the ticket, heard the New York agent's story, and
given my advice to the Baltimore man to pay it to him,
but to send for the "other man" who held the ticket, and
who was said to be waiting the result of things. So the
New York agent was politely asked to take a note to a man
quite a distance off from the lottery office, and whom the
agent had informed that he might receive a note that day,
and instructed what to do in such case. The man was a
store-keeper; was very polite to the New York agent; bade
him be seated in the counting-room, and he would send his
boy out to bring in the man indicated in the note. The New
York agent was told to be sure to get the man, wait till he
could bring him along with him, "if it takes three hours,"
said the Baltimore agent, as the New York man went off.

"Yes, yes; depend on my doing the business right,"
responded the New York agent, as he went off on his tomfool's
errand.

Papers were given the young man to read, and we chatted
together a little; the lottery agent having gone to work at
his business desk in the next room. A half hour passed,
and then--"This is dull business. I must go to my office,
and come back if needed," said I to the lottery agent, as
I opened the door into his room. "When shall I return?"
"Stay; he'll be back soon." "No," said I; "I'll go, and
return." "Well, please don't be long away,"--and he
gave me a significant look, which the young man, of
course, did not see. I went off, and returning in about a
quarter of an hour, called the agent into the private
room, and said, "See here! a new phase in affairs. I found
that man waiting at my office to consult me about the
ticket. He said he knew I was your attorney, and would
advise him what was best; he didn't want any fuss about
it. This was after I told him I was quite sure that the
ticket was the property of young Mr. Worden here; and
//147.png
.pn +1
the matter is left entirely with me. See! I have the ticket
here; do you recognize it?" asked I of Worden, presenting
it to him. He started up, looked at it, and with a
face full of joy, exclaimed, "The very same: don't you
remember how I described this slip here in my affidavit?"
"Well, Mr. Worden, as the matter is left with me, I have
no doubt the ticket is yours; and of course the agent will
pay you the <target id='tn147'>prize." "Yes, of course," said the agent; "stay
here, since you are here, and I'll make the due entries, etc.,
get the money, and be back." He closed the door behind
him; and as it was a late hour, drawing near closing time,
told the clerks he'd give them a part of a holiday; and bade
them to be on hand early next morning. "A good deal of
work to do to-morrow, you know," said he, as he smilingly
bowed them out.

Presently, after a delay, however, which I was fearful
would excite the young man's curiosity, if nothing more,
the agent came into the room, and told Worden that he
found it would be inconvenient to pay the three thousand
dollars that afternoon in money, and then proposed to him
to take the draft on New York, of which I have before
spoken. Worden compliantly fell in with the suggestion;
said he would cash the draft for the balance. He was
anxious, he said, to get on to New York as soon as might
be; and, "by the way," said he, "where's my friend, Mr.
----?"--(the New York agent.) "Ah," replied the Baltimore
agent, "he's waiting at the place to which I sent
him for the man." "Well," turning to his watch, "there'll
be time to send for him before the next train north, after
we have settled the matter." He went to his desk, drew
the check, came in and handed it to Worden, who, laying
it on the table, proceeded to take out his wallet, which I
noticed was heavily loaded. He selected five one hundred
dollar bills and handed them to the agent, who stepped
into the next room, as if to deposit them in his safe, saying,
"I'll be back in a moment, Mr. Worden. Step in here,
'Counsellor,'" said he to me, "and tell me how I am to make
//148.png
.pn +1
//149.png
.pn +1
//150.png
.pn +1
this entry"--for the want of something better to say.
I followed, and he showed me the notes. We "had" the
young man! Four of the notes bore on their back, in writing,
the business card of one of the men who had paid Mr.
Latimer money on that day; the notes were of the Bank
of America, such as he had told Mr. Latimer he had drawn
that day from bank, and he had indorsed his card on them
not an hour before he paid him. His account was new
with that bank. He had no other than <i>six</i> of those one
hundred dollar notes, so I saw our game was sure, and I
said instantly, "Go in and ask Worden if he can't give you
two fifties, or five twenties for this note," taking up the one
not bearing the business card. He did so, and I followed,
and instantly that Worden drew his purse to accommodate
him, I suddenly knocked the purse from his hand, and
caught Worden by the throat--"No noise, you villain!
You are caught! You are the scoundrel who robbed Mr.
Latimer's safe. I've traced you, and you are splendidly
trapped!" I exclaimed.

.pm illo i_148 i_148.jpg 700px "SEIZURE OF YOUNG WORDEN IN BALTIMORE."

He made some exertions to get from my grasp, but I
held him firmly; waited a moment or two that the first
flush of excitement might pass from him, and led him to a
chair; gave him his history in brief; and in a short manner
showed him how he was caught. Meanwhile the agent, at
my request, was searching and counting the money in the
purse which he picked up as I knocked it out of Worden's
hands. "Here's another one hundred dollar bill with Bordell's
card on it," said he. (The card was "Rufus Bordell,
Optician, and Mathematical Instrument Maker, 173 Bowery,
N. Y.," as my notes read. It was not an unusual thing
in those days, though I always thought it a foolish one, for
men to indorse all the new bills that came into their possession
with their business addresses, as a mode of advertisement.
Poor Mr. Bordell! He was an Englishman, and
was making a trip to England to visit his relatives on board
the ill-fated Pacific steamer in her last trip out, which went
to sea, and was never heard of after.) Well, Worden saw
//151.png
.pn +1
that he was caught, and there was no escape for him. We
found he had over three thousand dollars in money with
him, and he agreed to go to New York with us and get
what remained of the rest, which he said was all he had
taken except six or eight hundred dollars, and he thought
he could manage to raise that amount too, if I would not
prosecute him. The vision of State Prison was too much
for his nerves. He wanted to go unmanacled; and so I
insisted on the agent's accompanying me to help watch him.
However, he could never have got away from me alone,
for I should have felled him at once to the ground had he
tried, and I was sure he had not been in the business long
enough, or done enough at it, to have "pals" to assist him.
In fact, he said he never had any comrades in crime.

The agent arranged his affairs; sent word to the New
York agent that he was suddenly called to New York, and
would see him there the next day, and we left Baltimore
for New York by the next train. The young man kept
his promise to us; not only got the money left out of his
robbery, but raised of a "friend," whom we all visited,
seven hundred and ten dollars, which we found was the
deficit; gave up the lottery ticket to the agent (who
had the honor, however, to pay him back the sum he paid
for the ticket), and we let him go.

I hardly know whether I ought to state what I am about
to or not; but it may encourage some reader of this who
may be inclined to a life like that which young "Worden"
was then leading, to reform. "Worden" saw the situation
of things, thanked us for our kindness, and begged
me to never mention his real name. (I had not communicated
it to the agent or to Mr. Latimer, and have never
since told it to either or to anybody). He promised to reform
at once, and go to work, however humble the situation.
He did so, and in two or three years won his way
back into his father's smiles, conducted business in New
York for a while after that, and is now a prominent and
wealthy man of Chicago. I met him not over ten months
//152.png
.pn +1
ago from this writing, and enjoyed his hospitality. "You
saved me," said he. And that was all that was said between
us about the robbery.

The Baltimore agent drew the prize for No. 1710, and it
was none of the Lottery Company's business that he pocketed
it.

When I carried the money back to Mr. Latimer, he was
astonished, and insisted that I take the reward of one thousand
dollars, which, as he was rich, I did accept. I never
told him <i>how</i> we let the fellow escape, but satisfied him
on that point.

"But," said he, "you haven't told me what you learned
about how he got into the safe."

"No, for the scamp was in as much doubt about it as
we; he thought that the lock turned easily, if it turned
at all. He pulled, and the door came open, and afterwards,
on looking at the key he tried it with, thought it curious
that it could have raised the spring. Probably the safe
was not locked."

"But how did he get in, and do it so secretly, my wife
and I lying right there?" pointing to the adjoining bedroom.

"O, he says you were both snoring away so that nobody
in the house could have heard him if he'd made ten
times the noise he did."

"I--do--not--believe--it," said Mr. Latimer, with
an emphatic drawl, and more seriousness of face than I
had seen him exhibit over his loss even. "I never caught
her snoring in my life. She says I snore sometimes. I'll
call her, and tell her the story."

Mrs. Latimer came in; the snoring matter was settled
in a joke, and I was made to stay and take a private
supper with them, which, in due time, was served in superb
order; and I left that house to go home at last with a firm
friend in Mr. Latimer, who has never failed to send me
business, when he could command it, from that day.

He is ignorant of the young robber's real name to this
//153.png
.pn +1
day; and, indeed, said he did not care to know it; when,
four years after the occurrence, as he was one day
badgering me to satisfy his curiosity on that point, I told
him the man had reformed, and was made a good citizen
of, indirectly through the facts that the safe was probably
unlocked that night, and that he and his wife snored so
loudly.
//154.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=payneand
LEWELLYN PAYNE AND THE COUNTERFEITERS.
.hr 20%
.sp 1

.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
AN IDLE TIME--A CALL FROM MY OLD "CHIEF"--THE CASE IN HAND
OUTLINED--I DISCOVER AN OLD ENEMY IN THE LIST OF COUNTERFEITERS,
AND LAY MY PLANS--TAKE BOARD IN NINETEENTH STREET, AND
OPEN A LAW OFFICE IN JAUNCEY COURT--MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE
OF MRS. PAYNE, LEWELLYN'S MOTHER, AND FINALLY GET ACQUAINTED
WITH HIM--HE VISITS MY LAW OFFICE--I AM INGRATIATED IN HIS
FAVOR--I TRACK HIM INTO MY ENEMY'S COMPANY, AND FEEL SURE
OF SUCCESS--LEWELLYN FINALLY CONFESSES TO ME HIS TERRIBLE
SITUATION--CERTAIN PLANS LAID--I MAKE "COLLINS'" ACQUAINTANCE--VISIT
A GAMBLING SALOON WITH HIM--A HEAVY WAGER--FIFTEEN
THOUSAND DOLLARS AT HAZARD, PAYNE'S ALL--THE COUNTERFEITING
GAMBLERS CAUGHT TOGETHER--A SEVERE STRUGGLE--PAYNE
SAVED AT LAST, AND HIS MONEY TOO--A REFORMED SON AND
A HAPPY MOTHER--TWO "BIRDS" SENT TO THE PENITENTIARY.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>There</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
There
.if-
had been a lull in business for a time with me
soon after I had left an organized force of private detectives,
and with the promised assistance of some friends,
mercantile and otherwise, whom I had served more or
less, under the direction of the chief of the corps to which
I belonged, had taken a private office, and was beginning
to wish that I was not so much "my own master," and
had more to do.

During those days I tried to divert my mind with much
reading, and one day, poring over De Quincey's "Opium
Eater," I was half buried in oblivion to all particular
things around me, though wonderfully aroused to a sweet
sensuousness of all things material, when my old chief
entered my office. I was not a little surprised to see him,
for it had been weeks since I had met him, and that casual
//155.png
.pn +1
meeting was the first time I had seen him since my resignation
from the corps.

"Good day, my boy," said he, giving me a hearty grasp
of the hand. He looked weary and worn. I thought he
looked vexed, too, about something, and I asked, "Well,
what's up? What ails you? Are you unwell?" "No,"
said he, "not unwell; in fact, never in better health; but
business annoys me. I've been on a scent for some parties
for quite a while, and I can get nobody to do what I
want done. Report of failure to find out what I want has
just been rendered an hour ago, and I have come down
to see if you can't help me out."

"Tell me your story," said I. "But I don't suppose I
can accomplish anything for you if Wilson, Baldwin, or
Harry Hunt" (detectives of rare ability on his corps)
"have failed."

"They have," said he, "signally; but I believe the matter
can be worked out readily, though you will have to
take your time at it. The case is this: There's a lot of
blacklegs and counterfeiters, some of whom you know,
whose den I want to find out. That's all. They are passing
more or less counterfeit money these days. What I
want is not to detect any one of these by himself, but to
capture the whole of them in their den--gobble them
all up at once, and break up their gang; and now I
think I have a key to their hiding-place, which, if I
can get anybody to work it well, will open in upon
them."

"Well, give me the particulars, and your general instructions,
and I'll try it."

"You know," said he, "that some of it may be desperate
work, and that's one reason why I want you--steady
hand, and cool head, and time enough, must succeed in this
business. Here is a minute description of five of the
gang. Look it over," pulling from his side pocket a paper.
"There, you know this first one, Harry Le Beau.
We dealt with him, you know, two years ago; and the
//156.png
.pn +1
next I guess you don't know. In fact, I reckon you don't
know any of the rest."

I was studying over the personal descriptions; meanwhile
the chief went talking on, I paying little heed
further to what he was saying. Coming to the last on the
list, "Mont Collins!"--"Mont Collins?"--I don't know
the name, but the description just suits another person;
rather, just suits the character himself, for I knew, of
course, that "Collins" was one of any number of aliases.
"This is a particular friend of mine," said I. "His name
used to be Bill Blanchard, and--and--well," without saying
any more, "I'll undertake the job; and, by Heavens!"
said I, "I'll succeed," for I had been warming up out of
my opium reverie from the instant my eye fell upon the
description of "Collins," with an indignation and a hope
of revengeful triumph over this villain, who had now
taken a step in counterfeiting, or in passing counterfeit
money, where I could, if successful, get him confined
within the walls of a prison, and pay him for his vile iniquities.

"You have encountered this scoundrel before, it seems,"
said the chief, noticing the glow upon my face.

"No, not I; but a relative of mine. I can't tell you
the story now. I'll follow him to the death. No stone
shall remain unmoved in this business."

"I am glad you have a peculiar incentive, and I feel
that you are sure to succeed; but I have not given you
the key yet. May be it will serve you. Perhaps you can
get a better one, and won't need to use it," said the chief.

"Give it me," said I, "by all means. A straw, even,
might serve to point the way; and if the rest are as desperate
and cunning as 'Collins,' I shall need all the help
and advice possible to work up the job," said I.

So the chief went, on to say, "It is very evident that
these fellows have an important victim in a young man,
by the name of Lewellyn Payne, from Kentucky, who
came to New York some months ago, reputed to be very
//157.png
.pn +1
rich, and had always at first about him money enough;
but he has become reckless. He's a fine-looking fellow,
of good address, and how he allowed such a vile gang to
get hold of him, I don't see"--

"But I do," said I, interposing. "Collins is as keen
and genteel a villain as the city holds," said I.

"May be," said the chief; "but the rest of them are
only cutthroats, without a particle of grace to save
them."

"But they cannot be worse at heart than he," I responded.
"He has chosen his crew for his own purposes--fit
instruments for his style of villany."

"Well, you think you know him. I hope you do, and
can manage him; but I'll tell you about this Payne. They
have drained his purse, I think; in fact, I've had him
watched, and have found out that he is greatly in their
debt. They hold his notes, and he is about to sell property
in Kentucky to meet them. At least this is my
translation of Hunt's report from him. Hunt "cultivated"
him for a while, but we couldn't find out anything
from him in regard to the gang's rendezvous."

"Well, what am I to do? Where does he live, this
Payne?"

"In West 19th Street, No. --, corner Sixth Avenue.
He and his mother board there."

"O, ho," said I; "his mother! Does she know anything
about her son's dissipations?"

"Yes; it was she who came to me first about him,--says
her heart is broken, and that something must be
done to save her son. She can learn but little from him;
but says he's away a great deal all night, and sleeps
mostly during the day; that she fears he's gambled away
most of his property, etc."

"Then she can be approached upon the subject. Well,
I see the way clear. I must make his acquaintance without
his knowing why. I may make such use of your
name as I please?"
//158.png
.pn +1

"Certainly."

Before night that day I was fortunate enough to secure
board at the house in 19th Street, though I did have to
accept a room a little farther up toward the sky than I
desired, with the assurance that I should have the first
vacant room below. My first business was to effect a
meeting with the lady, Mrs. Payne, which I found but
little difficulty in doing. The poor woman, who was a
model of elegance and matronly character, was greatly
moved when she came to tell me of her son's wanderings
from the strict path of morality in which she had tried to
rear him. Young Payne's father had died some twelve
years before, and she had taken her son Lewellyn to
Europe to finish his education. Being of Scotch origin
herself, and most of her relations residing in and about
Edinboro', she had taken him to the university there,
whence, after leaving college, she went to the Continent
with him. Finally, spending a season at Baden Baden,
young Payne caught there the fashionable mania for gambling,
which was proving his ruin. She was ready to
spend liberally of her means in order to reform him, and
wished me to spare no expense necessary in the course
which I pointed out to her. I found it necessary to take
an office or desk as a lawyer in Jauncey Court, out of
Wall Street, and had some cards struck off, announcing
myself as an attorney at law. Three or four days passed
before I thought best to make the acquaintance of the
young man, the mother having stated to me, meanwhile, a
legal matter of hers in Kentucky, on which I had taken
advice, so as to be able to talk learnedly to the son.

All being arranged, the mother told the son that she
found they had a lawyer in the house, and had thought
best to consult him regarding the matter in Kentucky, and
was pleased with his advice, but would like him (young
Payne) to talk with the lawyer also. Through this means
I made the acquaintance of young Payne next day, and
invited him down to my office. He said he should have
//159.png
.pn +1
occasion to go into Wall Street that very day, and would
call about three P. M. Of course I was there, received
him, spoke of the library, which was quite large, as mine,
and played the lawyer to the best of my abilities. We
went out to a restaurant together, and I allowed myself
to accept his treat to a little wine; and, in short, before
reaching home that evening, for we went up town together,
I felt very certain that I had properly impressed
young Payne with my consequence, and with the notion,
too, that I was no "blue-skin," but ready always for a little
"fun."

Mrs. Payne looked a degree or two improved that evening
when she saw how swimmingly her son and I were
getting on in our acquaintance.

After supper, young Payne said he had an engagement
out, and would bid me good evening. But I said,
"I am going out too; perhaps our paths may lie along together
for a while. I am going down town."

"So am I," said he, "and I should be pleased with your
company as far as you may go."

I left the house with him, and we proceeded to Broadway,
and turned down, talking over many things, and
managing to agree pretty well upon them all. At last,
as we neared 8th Street, I thought I saw that young
Payne was a little uneasy, as if wishing to shake me off;
and I said to him, "Well, good evening, Mr. Payne," offering
him my hand. "My course leads this way," pointing
to the left, and turning in that direction. "I suppose you
keep down farther."

"Yes," said he, "I am going on farther," and bowing
me an "adieu, for the while," he passed on, and I kept a
good look out for him, for I "scented" that he expected to
meet somebody not far from that point. Dropping into a
saloon near by, where a friend of mine was engaged, I left
my "stove-pipe" hat, and pulled from my pocket a thin
"slouched" hat, which I carried for occasion, and taking
the opposite side of the street from Payne, kept him in
//160.png
.pn +1
sight till he passed into the New York Hotel, when I
crossed over, and entered. I had hardly done so before
he, returning from the back portion of the hall in company
with another, passed by me. His companion was evidently
telling him a funny story, for he laughed quite loudly, and
was hitting Payne, as if in glee, upon his shoulder. I
knew my man, both by his voice and face, which was partly
concealed by the manner in which he, at this moment, had
fixed his hat upon his head. He was unmistakably
Blanchard, alias "Collins," and my blood was up. Blanchard,
the villain, had ruined the husband of my cousin
Elizabeth ----. "Bettie," as we familiarly called her, was
one of the sweetest women I ever saw,--my most cherished
cousin, of whom I was proud in every sense,--and
the griefs which bore her down, in the ruin of her husband,
pierced my heart, and I resolved to be avenged, if
possible, upon this villain Blanchard, who had worked her
husband's downfall, and robbed him of every dollar. The
husband had been at one time in the enjoyment of a lucrative
trade, as a merchant of woollen goods, and had a fine
standing with some of the best manufacturers in Rhode
Island and elsewhere, and was on what seemed the sure
road to a great fortune, when he unluckily fell into the
clutches of Blanchard. Indeed, I too had suffered by
Blanchard, to no small extent for me, having been indorser
of some of my cousin's paper, which went to protest,
and which I had at last to pay. I do not allow myself
to cherish enmity against my fellow-man. The detective
soon learns to not be surprised at finding the man of
the best reputation frequently involved in crime, and he
comes to look with charity upon the faults, and even the
crimes, of his fellow-men. Comparatively, men do not, in
society, differ at heart so greatly as the uninitiated might
imagine. But few men are proof against the wiles of
"circumstances." No man can really tell what he would
have done, or would not have done, had he been placed in
these or those circumstances by which some other man
//161.png
.pn +1
has been led on to a career of crime, or to some dark
deed. But I could never wholly suppress my longing for
vengeance whenever Blanchard came into my mind, and
on this occasion my temper was quite as intense as I could
well control.

I turned when Payne and his friend had passed a proper
distance on, and taking the sidewalk, followed them near
to a house in Houston Street, which I saw them enter. I
did not know the character of the house then, but was
satisfied that it was a "hell" of some sort--a genteel one,
for its outward appearances indicated as much; but I made
myself acquainted with the probable character of the place
before I returned to my boarding-house that night.

The next day Payne was not up till two o'clock in the
afternoon, and I feigned illness enough to delay me at
home that day, in order to make further study of him.
When he came into the general parlor, I saw that there was
a peculiar haggardness about his countenance, not such as
over-drinking or ordinary mere dissipation gives. To me
it was a tell-tale haggardness, and I felt I knew full well
that he was on the last plank, and just about to be submerged
beneath the waves of irretrievable ruin. So he
looked, so he felt, too, of course. I entered into conversation
with him, drew out some of his experiences in New
York, and gradually led him on to the disclosure of some
pretty serious confessions. At last he told me that he had
run a wild career, but had made up his mind to reform,
and find some useful employment. "But," said he, "I've
promised myself to do so a thousand times before, and
have failed as often to make a beginning."

"I know your case," said I. "I've known a great many
such. There's always ground for hope, I assure you, so
long as the desire to escape exists. But each case has its
peculiarities. One case is never an exact representation
of another, of course."

We carried on the conversation for a while longer, till
we came to a point where Mr. Payne, in giving me a
//162.png
.pn +1
description of some friends whom he had made since he
came to New York, spoke of his friend "Collins" as a very
"brilliant, dashing fellow," who was a nondescript for
him, otherwise, in character. I was, of course, more interested
at this point than at any other, which must have
been manifest at once to young Payne. He told me of
some of his and Collins' adventures. In all these I could
clearly see the workings of the villain Blanchard, and I
was several times on the point of uttering my full views
to Mr. Payne, but I thought it an hour too early in our
acquaintance to do so, and so delayed to do it.

Another day came. I was out all day away from the
house, but not idle, for I managed to learn more of "Collins'"
or Blanchard's proceedings for the last few months
before, of his places of resort, etc.; but when I returned
at evening, before Mr. Payne's usual hour for going abroad,
I found him in great dejection; and having opportunity to
converse with him, approached him, and was soon invited
to his room. It was not long before our conversation took
such shape that I was able to breathe to him some of my
suspicions. Payne listened with surprise; but I drew
Blanchard's modes of proceeding, his general character,
etc., so accurately, that Payne became more than half
convinced that "Collins" and Blanchard were one. In
short, I got down into Payne's heart before our conversation
concluded that evening. It was necessary for him to
go forth again that night, or, I think, he would have held
me in his room all night, reciting his adventures and running
over his mistakes. I saw that he was utterly ruined,
beyond all hope, unless I could manage to get out of the
hands of his captors a large number of collaterals, which
he had for the space of three months past left in their hands,
as security for promissory notes to a large amount which
he had given them, and to pay which he was looking to
the sale of some property in Kentucky, and for some dividends
on stock in a manufactory in Cincinnati, which, however,
was itself pledged. These were debts of honor, as
//163.png
.pn +1
he, up to that moment, had regarded them, and must be
paid, no matter if paying them more than bankrupted him.
Indeed, he had played and lost far beyond the sum of his
actual property, so desperate had he become in the matter;
and the gamblers, his elegant friends, were willing
to show their gentlemanly confidence in him, and trusted
him more,--the well-bred scoundrels. But I pointed out
to him the fact that he had (which was evident enough to
me) been victimized by villains who never play an honorable
game of hazard; indeed, who never play a game of
hazard at all, since all is in their hands and under their
perfect control. When he came to see this, and reflect
upon each step, and saw how the thing had been done, and
also that, as his memory, now excited, called all vividly before
him, when he had lost heavily with the gang they had,
without doubt, in every instance played a false game, the
dark shades deepened in his face.

Mr. Payne became at first very serious, but at the close
of our conversation I saw that his mind had become quite
calm: he was very deliberate. The muscles about his
mouth assumed a firmer expression. I could easily see
that he was meditating some way of revenge on the scoundrels
who would have gladly ruined him in all respects, as
they had already done in some. Finally he said to me,
"You seem to understand all about these villains. How
came you to know them so well? Have you ever been
victimized by them?"

"No, not victimized; but I came to learn these characters
through my profession. Professional men are compelled
to know more or less of them, and it has been my lot
to be greatly interested; in fact, somewhat involved in a
matter in which Blanchard, or, as you know him, 'Collins,'
was the principal actor; and I'll say to you here, that
it would give me the keenest pleasure to give you any aid
in my power as against that wretch."

Mr. Payne's time for going out that evening had come,
and I left the house at the same time with him, hoping
//164.png
.pn +1
//165.png
.pn +1
//166.png
.pn +1
that he would do something, or that something would occur
on my walk with him, to further my projects. But
we parted that evening with nothing done. But next day
Payne came to me at my office in Wall Street about twelve
o'clock. He was uneasy, and did not wish to sit down to
talk, and asked me if I would walk with him. We sallied
out up to Broadway, and along it; got to Courtlandt Street,
when he said, "Somehow I feel a great inclination to go
down to the water. Suppose we go over in the ferry to
Jersey City."

.pm illo i_164 i_164.jpg 700px "ATLANTIC BEER GARDEN--PAYNE AND COLLINS' RENDEZVOUS."

Of course I was ready to humor him, for I well knew
the agitated state of his mind; and down to the dock and
over the river we went, and arriving in Jersey City,
Payne having no special point of destination, we wandered
the streets and talked. He told me his whole story over,
as of the night before, and added to it many touching incidents.
"Help me now, I beg you, if you can." I asked him
if this gang dealt in counterfeit money at all, and found that
he knew nothing about it. This was a relief, in one sense, to
me, and a surprise in another; and I thought, "Perhaps I
may be mistaken after all." But we planned, as the result
of our day's conversation, that, as a first step, he should
take "Collins" that evening into the "Atlantic Beer Garden,"
in the Bowery, to take beer (of which he said Collins
was very fond, not drinking anything else intoxicating), to
treat him, and I should come in carelessly, but unexpectedly,
upon him. And he should present me at once to
"Collins" as Mr. "Wilson," the name I had assumed on
my legal card, but which I did not explain the reason for at
that time to Mr. Payne.

That night I came upon the twain at the place proposed,
where they were sitting at a table over pots of beer, and
smoking, when I, darting in, called for a pot of beer; and
seeing Payne, pushed up to his table, extending my hand.
"Ah, here, eh? Mr. Payne; very glad to meet you?"
"Take a seat with us," said he. "This is my friend, Mr.
Collins, Mr. Wilson."
//167.png
.pn +1

I looked into "Collins'" eyes; gave him a wink, as much
as to say, "Mr. Payne thinks my name is Wilson; you
know better; keep still." Of course "Collins" was as anxious
that I should not call him Blanchard, as I was that he
should address me as Wilson. "And," he said, "Mr. Wilson--I
am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wilson.
Let's fill up, Mr. Payne," for their mugs were dry, "and
invite Mr. Wilson to take what he likes with us." "Thank
you, gentlemen, but here comes my beer. I'll wait for
you to fill up again." I put "Collins" quite at ease, and
we drank, and told stories, and sang a song or two. So
well did Collins and I disguise the fact that we had ever
heard of each other that Payne, as he afterwards told me,
made up his mind soon that I had been utterly mistaken
in the man.

We had nearly finished our cups at the table, when
Payne, spying a southern friend coming into the saloon,
with a number of others, asked to be excused for a moment,
and left us.

"The devil!" said Blanchard; "how did you come to
know Payne?"

"O, he is one of the acquaintances one picks up in the
city, he hardly knows how."

"Yes, yes; but as I happened, by the mistake of a partial
acquaintance, to be introduced to him as 'Collins,' I
have let it go so. I hope you'll be as careful the rest of
the evening to not call me Blanchard, as you have."

"O, we are in the same boat, 'Collins,' you see! He
calls me 'Wilson,' and I let it go at that."

"But," said Blanchard, "I must say, 'Wilson,' you are
very complaisant, and I hardly thought you would speak
to me at all."

"O, well, Blanchard, we grow wiser as we grow older.
We don't see things, generally, in the same light we used
to."

"True," said he; "and I am glad to find you not
unkindly disposed,"--and I doubt not that he was, for he
//168.png
.pn +1
well knew how I loved my cousin, and that I knew he was
the cause of her husband's downfall, and her greatest
griefs.

"What are you doing these days?" asked B.

"I've turned lawyer," said I, "and have an office on
Wall Street. Here's my card. Don't like my profession
over much, and so find time to speculate more or less."
(Blanchard had never known that I had become a detective,
fortunately. Though living in the same city we had
been, practically, as wide apart as the poles.)

"What are <i>you</i> doing?" I asked in turn.

"Well, I am speculating, too, a little," said he, with a
half-inquiring wink in his eyes.

"I see you misinterpret me a little," said I. "Not so
much either," I continued, "for I speculate in Wall Street
some, and elsewhere some."

"The fact is," said 'Collins,' "I am getting to be very
much attracted by sundry speculations, though I lose
money as fast as I make it. I was on my way to-night on
a little speculation. Perhaps you'd like to go along." In
paying for my beer I had purposely made display of all
the money I had,--quite a pile,--and doubtless Collins'
gambling avarice was a little whetted, or he might not
have invited me along.

Payne returned to us; and Collins telling him that he
had invited me to accompany them "for a little fun to-night,"
we sallied forth, and were not long in crossing
Broadway, and finding ourselves in a suite of rooms, which,
as soon as I set my eyes on them, I understood as one of
the worst of the second-class of gambling hells in the city.

Roulette, dice, and the latter loaded, and every other
appurtenance of such a place, as well as cards and a faro
bank, were there. The whole air of the place, the men at
play and about the boards, were assurance to me that I
was on the right track of the counterfeiters; but I felt at
once that the game I had to play was a desperate one; that
these fellows were the worst sort of cutthroats.
//169.png
.pn +1

We both played a little, Payne and I; but Collins played
not at all that night, except the part of a particular "friend"
to Payne in various ways. I lost considerable, Payne lost
more, and his note was received on demand; but still with
the understanding that he was not to be asked to cash it
till his Kentucky remittance came on. It was a part of my
plan to play and lose a little that night, to furnish occasion
to come again; and when we parted to go home, the "gentleman"
of the establishment, to whom Collins had introduced
me as Wilson, said, "Mr. Wilson, now you've learned
the way, drop in occasionally. Poor luck don't run always."

"Ha, ha!" said I, "gentlemen," taking the matter good-humoredly.
"I'm not feeling very well to-night; but you
can expect me around some time to break your bank when
I am in good spirits."

"That's right, come along any time. We like bold players,
if they do clean us out sometimes; nothing like
spirit,"--and we bowed ourselves out.

It was arranged by me and Payne, as we betook ourselves
home, that he should continue to go there and play
a little every night till his money came; that then he
should offer to play all his pile against his indebtedness to
the concern, his notes of hand, and all the collaterals he
had pledged. I knew the gamblers would catch at that,
and count him a bigger fool than ever. I was to be there,
and play too. Payne continued to visit the place, played
less and less each night, and at last declared to them that
he would not be in again till his money came. "And,"
said he "I'm going to take Wilson in, as my partner--he
has a pile." Meanwhile I reported to my old chief, and
had all things arranged for a descent upon the place if I
should be able to work the matter up to the proper point
by the time Payne's money came. The money came.
Payne's fifteen thousand dollars, in good money, I knew
would be a temptation to the villains, although his indebtedness
to them had increased to over twenty-five thousand
//170.png
.pn +1
dollars, and we went to the den; I having my force of
policemen in training, and ready for my call. It was a
wet night. There was quite a number of visitors in
early in the evening; but they straggled home, as the
rain increased, some not having umbrellas with them, and
for various reasons, and we were left, eventually, almost
alone with the regular keepers of the place; and Payne
was asked if his money had come? "Yes, gentlemen,
fifteen thousand dollars of it; all I shall get for more than
a year to come, and I'm going to hazard it all against my
notes and the collaterals you hold."

"All right," said the leading genius of the place. "All
right," said "Collins," aloud; but he stepped up to Payne,
and kindly whispered in his ear, "But would you do it? I
wouldn't hazard it now. Play half for half, say; for if
you should lose all, you know--well, do as you like."

"Yes, I will do as I like--I'll play all." There was a
smile of fiendish triumph then on Collins' face, which Payne
did not see, but <i>I</i> did, and I couldn't help feeling a pulse
of vengeance beating in my heart as I contemplated how
soon the scoundrel's face might change its expression.
Payne's money was put up; one game was to decide the
whole. His notes were put up on the table, by the other
side, to the amount of fifteen thousand dollars.

"But where are the rest?" said he. "No trifling; and
where are the collaterals?" and there was bickering about
the understanding, and I was appealed to. "I did not wish
to interfere," I said; but that "I understood it was to be
a clean sweep. But as there was a misunderstanding,
perhaps 'twasn't best to play at all to-night; wait for
another occasion, and Payne take his money and go."

The gamblers saw it was of no use to pretend further
misunderstanding, and that Payne's money was likely to be
more readily "gobbled up" then than if they were to
wait, and consented to put all on the table, though as the
collaterals were packed away and locked in the safe, they
proposed to put money up instead--ten thousand dollars.
//171.png
.pn +1

"No, no," said Payne, "I want to see the whole on the
table. I want to look at 'em once more. There's my
Harry Clay watch" (a very fine five hundred dollar watch);
"I want to look her in the face again--play better, I tell
you, gentlemen, in her smiles;" and so he went on. I was
at the instant disposed to favor him; but on second thought
I suspected that that money would be mostly, if not wholly
counterfeit, and I saw if it was, how I would trap the
scoundrels, and save Payne's fifteen thousand too, as well
as get up his notes and all his collaterals; and I interposed.
"No need, Mr. Payne, of troubling to get out the collaterals.
The money at hand's just as good, and if you win you
can buy back the collaterals."

"Yes, yes, that's it," said Collins, eager now to see the
foolish Payne slaughtered. The money was produced.
"Here, count it if you please, Mr. Wilson," said Payne,
as the first bundle of a thousand dollars was thrown upon
the table.

I caught it up carelessly, and ran it over rapidly. "One
thousand," said I, all right; and so with the next, and the
next, till the fifth had been counted, when I said, "Mr.
Payne, there's no use counting the rest; I guarantee it all
right." It is not easy to deceive me with a counterfeit
bill at any time; but that night, alert and watchful, I could
have sworn that more than nine tenths of the money I
counted was counterfeit. The play came. I declined
to join as "partner" of Payne, as he had called me. He
played tremblingly. I began to fear that he would not
hold out till the proper time for me to expect my men; but
he did, and just as the game was about concluding, disastrously
to him, there came a ring at the door-bell. The
servant hurried down, and the excited gamblers bade
Payne "play, play." Up came a dandy-looking chap, apparently
intoxicated. He was my man. He blundered
around, took a little wine from the side-board, and said
maudlin things; staggered on to the board, made the gamblers
angry, one of whom drew a light cane over him. I
//172.png
.pn +1
//173.png
.pn +1
//174.png
.pn +1
interposed, took his part, said that they should excuse
him; if he was a fool, he was drunk; should be pardoned
if he asked pardon; and, taking advantage of the black
boy's absence in the exterior room, said, "I'll show him
down, and get him out of the way." "Wilson, you are
always so polite and obliging," said Blanchard, facetiously,
as I led out the stranger, who was very loath to go, and
needed some encouragement.

.pm illo i_172 i_172.jpg 700px "DESCENT UPON BLANCHARD AND THE GAMBLERS."

"Just so," said I. "Don't you think I'd make an excellent
waiter here?"

"Yes, we must employ you. What do you want by the
month?"

"Talk about that when I come up," said I.

We went down the stairs--two flights--but to return.
I opened the door, the "stranger" gave the signal he had
arranged with the rest of the men, and eight stalwart, well-armed
policemen were in the house, and silently on their
way up those stairs; the stranger fighting me, and pulling
me along up, making some noise, and more drunk than ever.
"Our friend won't go out," said I: "insists on staying."

"D--n him! <i>I'll put</i> him out," said one. "No you won't,"
said the stranger, drawing a pistol, and calling out to our
followers, who were just at our heels, "Come on, boys!"
and there was a rush into that room which startled every
gambler to his feet, only to be throttled by a policeman.
There were six of the villains, including Collins, and the
policemen had no little trouble to silence them. The
drunken stranger immediately seized all the money on
the table, notes and all, and ordered the gamblers manacled
on the spot, which was done. Payne then told them his
story (as I narrated before only in short), asked to have
his collaterals delivered up. In short, the gamblers were
ready for anything. The counterfeit money was in our
hands, and the evidence complete. Payne got all his notes
back, which were at once put in the grate and burned, and
all his collaterals, his fifteen thousand dollars of money, and
was satisfied. But I was not; and a compromise was made
//175.png
.pn +1
that on the delivering up of all the counterfeit money they
had about them the gang should give up the rooms and
disperse, all but two of them, one of whom was my man
Blanchard, and another desperate scamp whom the police
wanted to answer to a charge of burglary in Philadelphia.
The safe was searched; all its counterfeit money given
up, and all the collaterals, with the names of parties who
had pledged them for gambling debts, were delivered into
the police's hands. The rest were then allowed to escape;
but Blanchard, and Johnson (the Philadelphia burglar),
were ironed and taken to the tombs.

"Blanchard" was tried before the United States Court
in due time, but under another name, which, unfortunately
for his respectable relatives, became known as his proper
one before the trial came on, and was sent for five years to
Sing Sing.

Johnson was, after due process of requisition by the
governor of Pennsylvania, on the governor of New York,
taken to Philadelphia, tried, and sent up for ten years.

In a short time after the breaking up of this gang proceedings
were taken to find the parties to whom the collaterals,
other than Payne's, belonged, in order to deliver
them up. It took a good while to find and surely identify
them; and this delivery led to information regarding various
matters which needed the keenest detectives to unravel.
I was overrun with business, in consequence, for
months after, incidents of which I may think best to relate
in other papers.

Mr. Payne was the happiest of men over his good fortune,
and insisted on deeding to me some very valuable real
estate in Kentucky, besides giving me more money than I
had the face to ask. He became my fast friend, as he remains
to-day.

But there was a happier mortal than he in those days,
in New York, when all came to be disclosed, and that was
the beautiful, noble old lady, his mother, Mrs. Payne. She
could hardly contain herself in her joy, when Lewellyn
//176.png
.pn +1
made clean confession of all his misdeeds, all his great sins,
and pledged her that he would not only never play cards
again for a cent, not even for fun--a pledge which he sacredly
keeps to this day. His experiences were too great,
his sufferings had been too severe, to be forgotten; and Mr.
Payne, in due course of time, went into legitimate business,
in which he has proven himself a very capable man.

Good old Mrs. Payne lived happily with her reformed
son for about four years and a half, and at last died of a
fever, which followed a cold contracted one wet day, on
Mount Washington, New Hampshire, where she and her son
were passing a summer vacation, and her remains were
taken back to Kentucky. I had the honor of accompanying
Mr. Payne on his mournful journey there.
//177.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=genealogical
THE GENEALOGICAL SWINDLERS.
.hr 20%
.sp 1

.fs 90%

.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
PRIDE OF ANCESTRY IN THE UNITED STATES--IT IS SOMETIMES MORE
PROFITABLE TO OTHERS THAN TO THOSE WHO INDULGE IT--"PROPERTY
IN CHANCERY"--A WESTERN MERCHANT, HIS STORY, AND HOW
HE TOLD IT--A FAMILY MEETING AT NEW HAVEN, AND WHAT A
MEMBER LEARNED THERE--THE GREAT "LORD, KING, & GRAHAM"
SWINDLE--THE WAY IN WHICH THE FRAUD WAS ACCOMPLISHED--A
CUNNING LETTER FROM "WILLIS KING," OF THE FIRM OF "LORD,
KING, & GRAHAM," TO ONE OF HIS RELATIVES--THE CORRESPONDENCE
OF THIS NOTED FIRM--THE SEARCH--THE TRAP LAID--THE SHARPERS
CAUGHT, AND FOUND TO BE EDUCATED YOUNG MEN OF THE HIGHEST
SOCIAL STATUS--THEY ARE MADE TO DISGORGE--A PARADOX, WITH
A MORAL IN IT.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2
.if h
<sc><b>The</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
The
.if-
pride of ancestry is usually great among those
whose ancestors possessed any traits of character worthy
to be remembered, or did deeds of which history has
made emblazoned record, or who held large estates, or
were in other respects distinguished,--and justly great is
this pride, perhaps. However, it is not to be overlooked
that, as a general thing, how great soever the pride of
the progeny may justly be, that of the ancestors would
probably not have been extreme, in most cases, could
they have looked forward for a few generations, and seen
what their successors in time were to be. It is not certain
that some of them would have refused to have successors
at all, and might not in very shame have betaken
themselves to the cloister, in celibacy, or forsworn their
mistresses altogether. And could their ancestors have
foreseen that even their greatness would be overshadowed
by the large or small estates which they might leave,
//178.png
.pn +1
what would have been their disgust or displeasure, is left
to us to conjecture.

But a "pride of ancestry" has developed itself in this
country, which, if it is not altogether profitable to those
exercising it, is sometimes made so to others; to lawyers
who seek fortunes for others, and who, for due fees, are
ready to hunt up "estates in chancery" in England, and
find them, too, <i>if</i> they are there,--which is the only requisite
for the finding, except the fees. At sundry times
many families get it into their heads that there ought to
be property of their ancestors preserved somewhere for
them, and talking up the matter among themselves, get
feverish over it, and finally assure themselves that such
property exists, and that it is their first duty to procure
it. Such people become an easy prey to speculating lawyers
and others, who find it an easy thing to whet their
hopes, and procure money from them to make "primary
investigations." A shrewd lawyer, wishing to make the
tour of Europe, for example, can readily play upon the
credulity of some such family, and induce them to advance
him a few hundred dollars to go to England with to examine
records, and so forth; and when there, can send home
such a "statement of the case," so full of hope, as to
evoke a few hundred, or a thousand or two more dollars,
in order to retain and pay first-class counsel. It is a
shame to our people that so many of them fall victims to
the greed for money in this line.

I hardly knew whether the more to be vexed at the
stupidity of the sufferers, or amused by the skill of the
intriguing scamps who perpetrated the swindle I am
about to disclose, when I first heard of it; and <i>I</i> confess I
haven't yet come to a decision on that point after the lapse
of a dozen years or so.

I was called on one day by a Western merchant, an old
man, by the name of King. He was a New Yorker by
birth, he said, born in a place called Janesville, in Saratoga
County, where he had lived to maturity, had then done
//179.png
.pn +1
business in New York City till he had reached beyond
middle age, when, failing in business, he had retired to
some land he had, in the course of business, acquired in
Illinois; but finding farming irksome, had managed to open
a little country store, which had grown upon his hands
until he had, in the process of time, become rich, and was
in the habit of visiting his old home in Saratoga County
every year, and also coming on to the city, sometimes to
select goods, though his junior partners came down at the
same time, and did the principal business. The old man
had learned to drink whiskey at the West, in order to keep
off the "fever-na-gur," as he called it, and at the time of
visiting me, had evidently not gotten over his last "fuddle"
at home, some weeks before, or had somehow managed
to get abundance of that creature comfort--"old
rye"--in New York; not that he was drunk, but he was
"keyed up" to a good pitch--a height from which he
surveyed all the glory of the King family, and felt that
nothing but royal blood flowed in his own veins; and who
knows but the blood was royal? It might have been the
whiskey, however,--but what matters it? The old man
descanted a long time on the glory of his ancestry, and
the pride of his race; claimed relationship to the great
Rufus King of New York, and all the Kings by name, who
were of any account; spoke of their natural pride; said
that they were always ready to avenge any insult to their
name, come from what source it might, and so forth, and
so forth. It was in vain that I interrupted him at times
at the end of a sentence, in order to ask him to come to
the point. Talk he would, in his own way; and as he was
a white-haired man, the outlines of whose face showed that
he was a gentleman when not in liquor, especially (and he
was thoroughly gentlemanly at the time, though vexatiously
garrulous), I thought I would let him have his talk
out in his own way. At last he got to tell me that some
months before he had been swindled out of a dollar, and
that a large number of the King family, he had recently
//180.png
.pn +1
learned, had each been defrauded to the amount of a dollar,
and that some of them, moved by family pride, had, as
he had been informed, made effort to discover and punish
the defrauding parties, but had failed. He felt his pride
wounded at this. The King family had made an effort
to find out the parties who had so questioned their good
sense as to successfully swindle them, and such a number
of them, too--and failed. This he could not endure. If
all that had been lost had been wheedled out of one member
of the family, if he himself, for example, had been the
only victim, he could have endured that, and would, for
the pride of the name, have endured it in silence. But
the whole race had been insulted, the very family coat of
arms had been mocked, and he would not suffer it any
longer. There had been, a few days before he came to
me, a large gathering of the King family from all over the
country. If I remember rightly, this was at New Haven,
about the time of commencement at Yale College. The
Kings of Georgia shook hands there with the Kings of
New York and the Western States, and so on; and it was
there that he learned how extensive had been the swindle.
Some of the family had talked and laughed about it
as a good joke, and poked fun at each other about it. But
the old man considered that these were degenerate in
spirit, and spoke of them with a degree of shame. Persons
present at the gathering, with King blood in their
veins, but bearing other than the King name,--the sons
of King daughters, by men who rejoiced not in so royal a
name,--made great sport of the swindle, and said that people
high in position, like Kings, emperors, etc., were more
subject to such things than people of undistinguished
names and of low estate, and assured the King relatives
that the latter ought to feel complimented by the deference
that had been paid to them by the swindlers. The
old man felt sore over this style of joking; felt that the
name had been trifled with, and he was resolved to let the
jokers "see that there was yet the 'true spirit' in the
//181.png
.pn +1
King blood to avenge an insult,"--and so he did at last.
He was not particular about "terms." He was willing to
pay abundantly, for he was rich,--rich on that day, at
least,--and persuaded me to take hold of the matter by
advancing me,--and insisting on my taking it,--double
what I told him it might cost to make thorough work of
the matter. I told him I had not a particle of hope, for I
saw no prospect whatever of tracing out the perpetrators
of this fraud in question months after it had been accomplished.
But I took the matter in hand, and hearing his
story in full, told him to call next day, for I might, on reflection,
wish to consult him again. He left with me a
letter, which a son of his had received--the man to whom
I was indebted for my engagement in the matter. His
son, and a partner of his in business at Utica, N. Y., had
about a year before had occasion to engage my services
in tracing out some forgers, who had been "speculating"
a little upon them; and when he found his father, against
his advice, was determined to do something about the matter
in question, he told him he had better employ a regular
detective, and so sent him to me. I kept this letter
for a long time, and, indeed, had three or four copies of
it, which I got, some from the Kings, and others from some
persons by the name of Perkins, who had been victimized
at the same time. I supposed I could readily find a copy
now; but in the multitude of vicissitudes to which a detective's
papers and "things sacred," as well as those of
other people, are subjected, the letters have become misplaced
or lost. But my memory is pretty retentive, and I
can reproduce the letter so nearly that I presume several
thousands of people in the land would, trusting to their
own memories, say that it is a perfect copy, for these several
thousands and their families were the victims. The
letter purported to be, at its head, the advertisement of a
great firm of lawyers in New York City; or rather the professional
firm name was displayed in type at the head of an
ordinary full-sized letter sheet, thus:--
//182.png
.pn +1


.nf c
<sc>Lord, King, & Graham</sc>,

<i>Attorneys and Counsellors at Law</i>.

(Address, P. O. box 1070.)
.nf-

.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.nf l
<sc>Daniel Lord.</sc>
<sc>Willis King.</sc>
<sc>J. Perkins Graham.</sc>
.nf-

.ll -2
.rj
<i>New York</i>, ----, 185.
.ll +2
.ll +4
.in -4

.fs 100%
.sp 1


[The above was printed in an elegant manner upon the
nicest paper. Under this was <i>written</i> a letter, the same
to the Kings, the Lords, the Grahams, and Perkinses, with
the exception that when writing to a King, the "King
family" was named, in the place where, when writing to
a Perkins, the "Perkins family" was named; and the letter
ran pretty much after this sort; for example:--]

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti 0
<sc>William King, Esq.</sc>,

.in +8
<i>Quincy, Illinois</i>.
.in -8

<sc>Dear Sir</sc>: Our firm, in the course of investigations,
which it has made during the last year among the records
of the High Court of Chancery in England, discovered that
there is a vast estate lying in chancery there for the descendants
of John King, who came to this country in the
year 1754, as near as we can learn. In behalf of the King
family in this country, I have undertaken to make out a
genealogical list of the direct descendants, and their
branches, from said John, and have found a branch, of
which I suppose you to be a member, and if so, entitled to
your share in the estate. Will you have the kindness to
forward me your pedigree, as fully as you understand it, or
are able to obtain it? I am making out a genealogy of the
King family, which will be furnished to those wanting at
its cost price, one dollar. This list will be used in bringing
suit in England, and it is desirable that all Kings
claiming relationship to the said John should be registered
therein, as this will be made a part of the pleadings in the
case, and, according to a peculiarity of the English law,
//183.png
.pn +1
only such as are thus made parties to this suit will receive
a share in the estate. Your name will be at once registered
on receipt of the dollar and your pedigree. Please
be as particular as you can about the latter.

.ll -8
.rj
Yours, very respectfully,
.ll +8

.ll -2
.rj
<sc>Willis King</sc>.
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

The letters I saw all seemed to be written in the same
rapid, half-clerkly, half-lawyerlike, but elegant scrawl,
whether written to a Perkins or a King. It will be seen
that the third partner--"J. Perkins Graham"--could
represent both the Graham and the Perkins family, and I
suppose he did. So there were in the scheme four families
to be preyed upon,--Lord, King, Graham, and Perkins;
and these families are numerous over the land,
and many of them in high positions. I learned from the
scamps, after their detection, that they received all sorts
of epistles, from the lowly Lord up to the exalted one, who
wrote on paper displaying flaming coats of arms, and their
letters bearing a huge seal. So with the rest of the families.
The swindlers had spent some time in hunting
through all the directories of other cities and towns
which they could find in New York, and gathered all they
could from advertisements in newspapers for a year or so,
before they launched out in their long-meditated scheme.
Meanwhile they were practising their cunning arts in
other swindles. They also wrote to the postmasters of
a large number of towns, enclosing to one a letter for a
King, to another a letter for a Perkins, to still another a
letter for a Graham, asking each postmaster to have the
kindness to "read the accompanying letter," and to pass
it over to any King, Perkins, and so on, who might be
within the delivery of his office, or in his vicinity. These
letters they got copied by a clerk at a few cents (five, I
think) apiece. So when they got a dollar back it paid
for about twelve letters, inclusive of stationery and postage.
A hundred letters and the postage would cost them
//184.png
.pn +1
about twelve dollars, and from a hundred they would
probably get fifty, if not more, favorable answers. From
several thousand letters they received several thousand
dollars, aside from large sums which, by subsequent correspondence,
they swindled out of such pompous, or other
parties, as, judging by their letters, they thought they
could further entrap. Some of these forwarding to the
famous firm of Lord, King, & Graham as high as a hundred
dollars to be guaranteed <i>especial</i> effort in their behalf!
It is almost too preposterous to be believed, but
such was the fact--such the credulity of some who occupied
political positions of note; one of them, indeed, being
at the time a member of Congress! But credulity in matters
of this kind is a weakness, alike of the poor and the
rich, the educated and uneducated. The device of these
swindlers proved to be more profitable than one would
have, on first thought, judged possible, so much greater is
human credulity than we are wont to consider it. Perhaps
credulity is the only thing in the world that we are
not apt to overrate. But it is not strange that it should
be great touching material things, when in matters of
religion the most absurd fancies have, from time immemorial,
down through the ages of Oriental, pagan, and other
religions to the days of Mohammedanism and Mormonism,
had possession of the human soul, ruled nations,
gathered armies, and taught millions of millions of human
beings to sacrifice each other in death, willingly and
proudly. And in the matter of money-getting, where
hope may be whetted, in order to inspire the actor,--as
in reaching out for a fortune in chancery,--their credulity
usurps a wondrous supremacy, and carries all along
with it. So many of the most intelligent representatives
of the various families addressed by "Lord, King, & Graham"
fell as readily into the trap as the least intelligent.
Now and then a man, a little more wary than the rest,
wrote, wishing to make further inquiries about the property
in chancery, how it came to be discovered, what was
//185.png
.pn +1
its amount, about how many, probably, it would have
to be divided between, etc., etc. But he could not, after
asking so many questions, neglect to enclose the small
amount of a dollar; and the swindlers taking his measure
by his letter, would generally reply in so cunning a manner
as to finally elicit from him a "contribution" of from
twenty-five to a hundred dollars, in order to prosecute
the matter in England.

In some instances persons who had received letters
wrote that they were coming on to New York in a few
days, and would call and talk over the matter. Replies
would be made to these, that "<i>our</i> Mr. Perkins," or "Mr.
Lord," or whatever name the special letter-writer bore,
and "who has exclusive charge of the matter in question,"
is away from home, gone to meet some of the family in--(Kentucky,
for example); that he would proceed, immediately
on his return, to England, etc., so as to keep the party
from making investigations, and finding that there was no
such firm as "Lord, King, & Graham," generally managing
to conclude the letter in some such way as not only to win
the one dollar at once, but to elicit more from the man;
as, for instance, suggesting that some of the Perkinses were
making up a sum, by the contribution of ten dollars each,
to secure special legal talent in England, and intimating that
the interests of those who took a generous and manly part
in prosecuting the matter would be likely to be better
looked out for than would the interests of those who are
not so generous. The family pride of the correspondent
would often be flattered in such a way as to make him
go deeper into his pockets. The recital of affairs, as
given me by one of the swindlers, himself a young man
of fine education and genius, was very amusing. It was a
pity, he said, that they had not preserved all the correspondence.
It would have made a most remarkable book,
as funny, in parts, as anything Thackeray ever wrote. It
was serious and serio-comical; bombastic and Pecksniffianly
humble. It represented all grades of society, from the
//186.png
.pn +1
"Lord" who "drove stage" for a living, up to the "King"
who had a seat in Congress. Widows, whose deceased
husbands' names had been culled from ten years old directories,
wrote mournful stories about "the late Mr. William
Lord," or "James Perkins," or whatever the names might
have been, and declared that their late partners had always
told them there was an immense estate in England
for them, and so on. The pious and the less pious each
wrote his peculiar letter. But what was most noticeable
was, that almost all of them assumed the airs of "nabobs."
And why shouldn't they? Were they not on the eve of
becoming immensely rich? And what is there in this
world, with its grievous labors and trials, comparable
to riches? I presume this same sort of trick could be successfully
played with almost any family in the land which
has an American line extending back of the Revolution,
say, for a hundred years, and with many of less age,
so great is the desire to get riches. Indeed, there is a
lawyer in Vermont who has made the matter of searching
out estates in England a study. He spent ten years in
England in hunting up genealogies and titles; has a
regular partner in London to whom he transmits business
from this country, and publishes a good-sized pamphlet
filled with the names of families residing in America, and
entitled to property in England. This lawyer now and
then gets an important case, in which his fees amount
to something handsome,--sometimes to twenty thousand
dollars.

But this is wandering from the direct line of my story,
though, perchance, it is far more interesting than the simple
detecting part of the tale. My old friend King left
the city, and went home a few days after I accepted the
work; but his interest did not flag because he had handed
over the matter to another, but rather increased. His letters
were very frequent, sometimes three a week, none of
which, except the first, did I take the trouble to reply to
for a long while. I soon found that I needed more facts
//187.png
.pn +1
than I had in my possession to enable me to reach any
practical result. It was impossible to find any job printer
in the city who had ever done a job for "Lord, King, and
Graham." Nobody had ever seen the letter-head before,
and no one could suggest where the work was probably
done. It was not recognized as like the style of anybody.
Possibly it was done out of the city; but the fact was, as
I afterwards learned, that it had been done privately by
a firm which had meanwhile failed in business, and I was
baffled on that point. I expected to fail, and so gave but
little heed to the matter; but it finally occurred to me that
if I could find some King, or somebody else who had received
a letter and not replied to it, that he might at that
late day make reply in such way as to get into a correspondence
with the parties, and I could then have them
followed from the post office, or in some other way trap
them. About this time I went on to Louisville, Ky., and
there encountered a gentleman, one of the King family,--we
will call him Lemuel, for a name,--whom I had not met
in some fifteen years before. He was a New Yorker by birth,
and I had known him when a school-boy. Lemuel was a
bright boy, and made a most acute man. When I asked
him if he had ever done business with "Lord, King, &
Graham," of New York, he laughed outright, and exclaimed,
"No; but my George, you knew him, has, and got
badly bitten." When I found out this, I disclosed to him
my reason for inquiring, and found that he had on file
somewhere the letter from "L., K., & <target id='tn187'>G.," which was
hunted out, and we coined a letter to the firm, which was
calculated to wake up any one of them who should receive
it. Mr. King's letter had been found, sealed and unopened
of course, in a package of letters, and he wrote hastily,
with great anxiety, to know if it was too late yet to be put
in the genealogical list for the dollar; and intimated his
desire to contribute anything of a reasonable amount to
the prosecution of the search and claim for the estate.
This letter was posted, and I hurried back to New York,
//188.png
.pn +1
suspecting that it would appear in the list of advertised
letters, as it did; and thinking that it would meet the eye
of some one of the firm who would be curious to get it,
I had a man stationed in the post office, along with the
delivery clerk, and when the man came, as I suspected he
would, and asked for the advertised letter, the clerk delayed
the delivery long enough to enable my man to get
out near the fellow, and follow him. He found that the
man entered a law office in Nassau Street, and that the
real estate business was also attended to in the same office.
So we devised a business call upon the office, and got
well acquainted with the man who took out the letter. He
caught at this bait, as I soon learned from Louisville, and I
carried a letter in reply to his, which led him along till I
was fully satisfied that the lawyers and real estate men
were all of a piece. I "laid in" with the post office clerk
to let me know when a letter bearing Mr. King's monogram,
from Louisville, should arrive. The clerk delayed
its delivery one day, and I made a call into the office at the
time one of the partners went for their mail. He returned
smiling, and passed the letter, which he had read, over to
the other party. There was an amount of blind talk over
it. Finally they excused themselves to retire into the
"counsel-room," and coming out, the lawyer sat down and
answered the letter. I left the office soon after, and had
the letter intercepted at the post office, which I took into
my possession.

I then sent to Louisville for the letters which had preceded
this, and receiving the same, I now had the writing
of two of them in my possession, and I had managed in a
business way to possess myself of sundry documents written
by each of these men, and I found other parties, too,
who could identify the handwriting of each; and having
secured these, I advertised in a Philadelphia paper, also
in a Boston paper, in one at Utica, and one in Cincinnati,
to the effect that any person by the name of King (that
for Philadelphia), or any person by the name of Lord (for
//189.png
.pn +1
Boston), and so on, might hear of something to his advantage
by calling on so and so any time during the week.
I made arrangements with brother detectives in these
places to receive their calls, and instructed them what to
say. In this way I became, in the course of two weeks,
in possession of abundant facts to convince the firm of
Lord, King, & Graham that we had them trapped; and
one day, taking an officer along with me, and setting watch
till I saw that the two men I have spoken of were in their
office, dropped in, and said, "Gentlemen, I have been here
often on business affairs, and we have got along very
pleasantly, and I have invariably found your advice good;
but I've something now which I fear will puzzle you; perhaps
you can help me out. By the way, if you please, as
it's private, I'll lock the door," stepping towards it.

"O, certainly, certainly," said both of them at once. I
locked the door, and putting the key in my pocket, said,
"Perhaps, gentlemen, you think I am over-cautious in
pocketing the key; but my business is serious, and--you
are my prisoners." There was astonishment, and differing
shades of color going and coming on their cheeks.

"Give me the key!" exclaimed the lawyer, finally, resuming
his composure in a measure. "'Twouldn't do you
any good," said I, "for I have brother officers at the door,
and the best way is to sit down and talk over the matter
coolly. You naturally wish to know why you are my
prisoners. I'll tell you. Some months ago you carried
on a system of frauds under the name of 'Lord, King, &
Graham.' I was lately employed to work up the case.
I've all the facts necessary for your conviction; your handwriting,
and so forth, and so forth, in my possession;" and
then I read them a series of names of those they had
swindled, and said, "although I don't need to do so, yet I
am going to cause your back office there to be searched."
One of them started to rise in his seat. "Sit still, or I
shall handcuff you," said I; and I stepped to the door,
called in the officer, relocked the door, and put the key in
//190.png
.pn +1
my pocket, and directed my man to go into the other room
and possess himself of all books and papers which he could
find there, and search especially for anything bearing on
the "Lord, King, & Graham" business--(I had told him
all about it before); "and, gentlemen, I propose to take
possession of all your papers here." My man was hunting
over matters vigorously in the other room while I was at
work briskly searching the larger room, when the lawyer
rose, and said, "Gentlemen, I see you've got us. I'll give you
up what books there are left, and you can make what you
please out of them; they won't do you any good, however."
"Please to deliver them up, and I will see as to that."
They were produced--journals of accounts; and fortunately
in one I found three letters written out, but which, for
some reason, had never been sent, in the writing of "J.
Perkins Graham," which I discovered to be that of the
letter written by the lawyer to my friend in Louisville. I
also searched the books, and found entries therein in his
hand. Taking out his letter from my pocket, "There," said
I, "is your late letter to Mr. King, of Louisville. I saw
you write it, can prove your hand by a half dozen persons
in this building; and that" (taking up a newly-found letter),
"is yours, and here are entries in your hand, and I
have your friend caught still more firmly. Now you see
the relation of things, and we needn't dispute; how will
you settle this business? All the expenses I have been to
must be met first, and you can't object to paying a handsome
sum for the education, discipline, and experience you
have had in this business. You've learned a good deal of
human nature. I don't propose to be hard with you, but
my instructions are to expose you through the public
press,--you two, and the rest of you,--for I know you
all." There was consternation in their countenances, and
I had no great difficulty in bringing them to terms, for I
informed them that I knew all about their social standing,
and that of their relatives, especially dwelling upon the
relatives of one of them who was at that time absent, but
//191.png
.pn +1
whom I had inextricably caught with the rest. The lawyer
was willing, and so was his friend, to submit to "any
reasonable terms," an item of which was the returning
to those whom they had swindled out of ten dollars and
upwards the money they had defrauded them of, as
nearly as from the books and memory they could make out,
and to bear the expense of such correspondence as I
should think necessary. They were also to pay all expenses
I had been to, and to give me full wages for the time
I had been at work, the account of which made no small
sum. There was no need of my holding them under arrest,
for they could better afford to come to my terms than
to run away and be exposed in the public papers. Besides,
they could not think of such a thing on account of
their relatives. The father of one of them was a clergyman,
in high standing, and the rest held higher social position
than he, and the terms, were duly complied with on
the return of the third party the next day.

I kept possession of the books, had a short letter, in the
form of a circular, printed and sent to all the parties whose
names were on the books, and were marked with a little
cross, which they told me meant those who had responded,
in which was set forth the fact of the swindle, with a request
that each party should reply as to how much he had lost,
especially over ten dollars, and make affidavit of his loss
before some notary public or other officer in his vicinity.
The amount thus heard from was over three thousand dollars
(not counting the several thousands which came in
one dollar at a time). On the three thousand and upwards
I charged, as permitted to do, ten per cent. for "collecting;"
but it was a bothersome business, and vexed me
more than it profited me. My acquaintance got to be
somewhat intimate with those sharpers, who were all men
of education, and very adroit, as the reader may well conceive,
from the fact of their perpetrating their frauds on
some of the shrewdest and most important men in the
land. They kept files of some of their letters, as well as
//192.png
.pn +1
copy-books, which revealed the most consummate skill on
their part. Indeed, as I said before, I sometimes hardly
knew whether to swear, to laugh, or be indignant over this
subtle fraud.

Old Mr. King, who first employed me, was delighted
with the detection of the villains, but could never forgive
me for not exposing them to the public. However, he
took all the credit which was fairly due him, if not more,
and considered that the good name of King in America
was at last preserved from the shame which easy imposition
had brought it, and used to say that the Lords, Perkinses,
and Grahams of the country all owed the Kings a
great debt of gratitude. But as my name is not King, I
sometimes used to reflect that perhaps they owed gratitude
to some others than Kings as well, for the largest
share of the money returned went to Lords and Perkinses.
Not a Graham, save one in North Carolina, had been defrauded
of over one dollar. For many it proved better to
have been swindled out of ten dollars or more, than it
would have been to have lost only a dollar,--a paradox,
with a moral in it, which I leave to the reader's solution.
//193.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=hattie
HATTIE NEWBERRY, THE VERMONT BEAUTY.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
"SOCIETY, FOR THE MOST PART, CREATES THE CRIMES WHICH IT PUNISHES"--A
BEAUTIFUL GIRL ON THE CARS FROM RUTLAND, VERMONT, ON THE
WAY TO BELLOWS' FALLS, BESET BY NEW YORK ROGUES--A DETECTIVE
RECOGNIZES IN HER THE FORMER PLAYMATE OF HIS OWN DAUGHTER--HE
ENCOUNTERS THE ROGUES AT BELLOWS' FALLS, AND KNOCKS
ONE OF THEM DOWN IN THE LADIES' ROOM--THEY ALL TAKE THE
NEXT TRAIN, AND MOVE SOUTHWARD, ON THEIR WAY TO NEW YORK--INCIDENTS
OF THE JOURNEY--A THIRD VILLAIN GETS ABOARD AT
HARTFORD, CONN.--WHY HATTIE WAS GOING TO NEW YORK--AN OLD
TALE--THE DETECTIVE GIVES HATTIE MUCH GOOD ADVICE--A SKILFUL
MAN[OE]UVRE, ON ARRIVING IN NEW YORK, TO PUT THE ROGUES OFF
THE TRACK--A PAINFUL DISCOVERY AT LAST--A DEEP, DEVILISH PLOT
OF THE VILLAINS DRIVES HATTIE TO DESPAIR, AND SHE IS RESCUED
FROM A SUICIDE'S GRAVE--THE ROGUES PROVE TO BE THE MOST
HEARTLESS OF VILLAINS, AND ARE CAUGHT, AND DULY PUNISHED--HATTIE
RETURNS EVENTUALLY TO VERMONT, AFTER HAVING MARRIED
HER OLD LOVER--THIS TALE IS ONE OF THE SADDEST AS WELL AS
MOST INTERESTING OF EXPERIENCES THROUGHOUT.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>It</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
It
.if-
was my original intention when I contracted with my
publishers for these sketches from my diary, to avoid such
narratives as hinged upon matters of love between the
sexes, and especially to avoid all those matters of abduction
of females for unholy purposes, the detection and exposure
of the schemes of procuresses, or the rescuing from
a life of infamy girls of respectable parentage and home
surroundings, from both the country and city--matters
which frequently come into the hands of detectives, and
with which old detectives, in particular, are painfully conversant.
I could fill a quarto volume with what has come
under my own eye of that nature, with recitals far more
romantic in their truthfulness than are the cunning devices
//194.png
.pn +1
of the most imaginative novelists. Indeed, the more
astute novelists of the sensation school are wise enough to
gather instruction, and obtain from interviews with detectives
the plots which they work up, out of facts given
them by these officers. In my own experience I have
been, indeed (at one time especially, when it seemed to me
as if all the scribblers had gone mad upon sensation tales),
harassed and vexed by what we would now term "interviews,"
fishing from me the issues of this or that experience.
It was my purpose, to which I shall adhere, of
course, to give publicity to not a line in these narratives
which may not properly fall under the eye of the most
fastidious or the most innocent child. Nevertheless, such
is the course of life the detective is obliged to lead, finding
himself frequently among the vilest characters,--thieves,
gamblers, highway robbers, unfortunate and lost women,
and wretches too low and vile to be named here, even
by the crimes or base offences which they commit,--that
it is almost impossible to give the full history of anything,
with all the incidents of a nature interesting (in
some respects) which may have attended it. The scenes
which occur in New York, for example, in one day, if
gathered into a book, such as the regular police force and
the detectives might furnish, would astound the uninitiated;
and were they recited in all their details, would,
many of them, horrify and disgust, as well as "astound,"
the reader. At this writing there are crowding upon my
memory many occurrences in my life, that I have been
called to take a part in, which would hardly be fit for
these pages, in view of the extreme immorality that
generated them, or follows in their trail, which yet have
their romantic side. Most of these affairs, to which I now
especially refer, relate to the life of fallen women, their
first enticements from the path of virtue, their utter ruin,
or their final rescue. But it were better that the public
remain ignorant of these things as far forth as possible,
than to be well informed. Yet the eye of sympathy
//195.png
.pn +1
cannot but fill with tears of pity over the ruined and
wronged; and as I write, I feel a strong impulse to go
aside from my original intention in these tales, and mingle
with them recitals of horrible personal wrongs suffered,
and the lives of infamy led by many females, whom better
surroundings than they enjoyed, or more benevolence and
kindness than they received, might have saved, and elevated
to places as comparatively dignified in the world as
the position they now occupy is base and degraded.

"Society," it is true, as a great philosopher has aptly
said, "creates, for the most part, the crimes which it punishes;"
and though the detective, in the pursuit of his
calling, is apt to become merciless towards the really guilty,
and to condemn them outright,--declaring that they
could, if they would, do better,--he knows that it would,
a thousand times, seem that the very "conspiracy of circumstances"
irresistibly impels men on to the commission
of crimes, and in his reason he is more lenient towards his
fellow-men than his profession permits him to be in practice.
But there are villains in the world who seem to
combine with base desires and notions a persistency in
the expression of them which never wearies. They pursue
their base objects with a tirelessness which would be
most admirable in a good cause. Indeed, virtue, save as
exemplified in the characters of a few great souls, grows
weary and careless, and turns almost to vice, long before
the perseverance of these villains would turn from its
course of wrong. There seems to be a romantic impulse
for some in the very trials that beset the path of crime.
The more hair-breadth escapes to be made, the more
eagerly do these villains seem to enter upon their course.
But I must not stop to moralize farther here. Unwilling
to recite any tale of my own experience of the kind to which
I have alluded, as related to the rescuing of intended female
victims from the snares of the despoiler, which now
comes to my mind, I will recall, as clearly as I can, the
story of a brother detective. I was coming from Buffalo,
//196.png
.pn +1
in 1859, and chanced to enter the car in which he was
seated, on his way to New York, from a successful professional
mission at the further West, and fortunately found
a seat with him in the same chair. We occupied our time
mostly as detectives, when travelling together, are apt to,
in the narration of our professional experiences; and let
me say here, that of all "story-tellers," the best I have
ever listened to are detectives,--the most "apt scholars"
usually of human nature,--and what is more, they
always have truths enough of a startling kind to tell, to
be under no necessity of "drawing on the imagination."

Thus ran his story of "Hattie Newberry:"--I may get
places and names, in some particulars, not exactly correct.
I merely wish to present the substance; and I remember
it more particularly, because the case he cited was in so
many respects like one of mine, which, however, had
features which would be unfit for display in these pages.
But to the narrative.

My friend said, that once on his way from Vermont,
he took the cars at Proctorsville, I believe, below Rutland,
coming south; that he had not been long on the cars before
he observed a couple of men whom, by their "flashy"
dress, and certain signs unmistakable by the "initiated,"
he knew to be either New York or Boston cutthroats of
some sort. He thought he had encountered them somewhere
before; and as he was on a peculiar mission, connected
with the subject-matter of which these very men
<i>might</i> be, he kept his eye on them, watching their manners
with each other. He discovered that they had some
iniquity on hand, as he thought, or were very gleesome
over some already secured success, or something of the
kind. He observed, too, that they frequently turned their
attention to a young lady who was sitting alone in the
front seat of the car, by the door, near the stove; and by
and by these fellows got up, and went forward to her, and
commenced talking, and it was evident from her manner
that she had seen them before, and that she wished to
//197.png
.pn +1
avoid them. They tried to affect a familiarity with her,
offered her something to drink which they carried in
flasks, and so conducted, in short, as to attract the attention
of the car full of passengers, who seemed disgusted
with their movements. It was evident to my friend that
something was wrong; and eventually, as the cars stopped
at Bellows' Falls for a change of passengers to another
train for those going down, my friend caught a glimpse
of the young lady's face, which he had not seen before,
sitting, as he was, some distance behind her, and at once
he reflected that he had seen her somewhere, and ought
to know her. She was startlingly beautiful, not only in
the regularity of her features, but in the expression of her
face--"the most beautiful being I ever saw in all my
travels," to use his own declaration. He felt a great interest
in her; and now that he had seen her pure, beautiful
face, he understood well enough that the two villains had
no proper acquaintance with her; that they were only harassing
her, and had some low design regarding her. The
cars waited at the Falls for some fifteen minutes before
the other train would come in, and my friend, leaving the
gentlemen's room, wherein the two men in question were,
among others, partaking of refreshments, and "giggling"
over their pretty designs, and talking about "her," "that
bully gal," etc., and smacking their lips with evident delight
over some contemplated victory,--he sauntered into
the ladies' room, and proceeded towards the young lady,
who arose, moved towards him, and giving him her hand,
called him by name. He was astonished as well as delighted
that she knew him.

"But, miss, I am sorry I cannot call you by name. I
think I must have known you," said he.

"Why, then," she replied, "you have forgotten 'little
Hattie Newberry,' whom you used to dance so much on
your knees, along with your Jane."

"O, no, I've not," said he, grasping her hand, and shaking
it heartily, but tenderly, for the tears came into his
//198.png
.pn +1
eyes; for his Jane, to whom Miss Hattie referred, was dead,
and he called to mind how dearly she loved "little Hattie."
Ten years had passed since he had seen Hattie. She was
then a "wee bit of a thing" of her age, and she was not
very large now, though grown to full womanhood, as exquisitely
moulded in form as she was beautiful of face.
My friend had married a Vermont girl, he himself being a
native of New Jersey. The illness of his wife had led
them to remove to a little town somewhere above Rutland,--New
Haven, I believe, but may be that is not it,--for
a summer, in which place he had first known Hattie,
when but a child of six years of age. His little daughter
Jane was just her age, having been born on the very same
day that she was, and the two little creatures, just the opposites,
however, in complexion, color of hair and eyes,
and quite unlike in all respects, fell into the warmest
mutual friendship. "They had not a single taste alike,"
said he. "Jane was a great romp, loved to be out in the
stables with the horses and cows, was full of boisterous
life;" but Hattie was as mild as her own blue eyes, and
as delicate as her fine, glossy hair. "It was a strange affection
these children had for each other," he said; "very
beautiful, and I used to be constantly with them when
there." He used to spend a month or so of each summer
there, while the wife staid from the last of May, he said,
into October. For three years his wife made the little
town her summer home, and these children grew more
and more together. Ten years had gone, and Hattie was
now in her nineteenth year,--a beautiful woman, into
whose countenance her advanced years had thrown just
enough of spirit to make her interesting,--with an air of
sweet, just ripe maturity about her, which gave my friend
an inkling of what the two villains were pursuing her
for. Pretty soon my friend introduced the subject of
her "friends,"--her two "fellow-travellers,"--and she
shrugged her shoulders with an expression of mingled
disgust and dread, and said, "You are going down?"
//199.png
.pn +1

"Yes."

"O, I am so glad, for you'll be company for me, and keep
those mean men away from me--won't you?"

"Why, certainly. Where did you meet them first?"

"They came on at Rutland, I think, and the impudent
fellows have tried to talk with me all the way down. At
first I said a few words to them, and told them I was
going to New York, and they've left their seats several
times, and come forward to me."

"Yes, I've noticed them," said my friend, "and that's
why I came in here, not expecting to find Hattie Newberry,
but sure that you, whoever you are, were being
persecuted by those villains, and needed protection."

"O, you are so good," said she, "and I shall be so glad
to go with you. I did not know what to do, but I had
thought that if they got into the same cars with me on
the next train, that I would speak to the conductor about
them, or go out into another car. They had the impudence
to ask me to take some liquor with them, and I do not
think they were drunk."

Their conversation had proceeded to this point, when
into the ladies room boisterously came the two men.
"Here's the darling," said one, approaching her, bringing
cakes, etc., in their hands. "And you must take something
with us." She declined, and turned her face away, when
my friend said to them, "She doesn't want anything--don't
trouble her."

"Yes, she does, too," said one, and the larger of the
men; "and she mustn't be bashful--must take it. See
here, sis," said he, and placed his hand familiarly on her
shoulder to turn her around; at which she shuddered, and
gave my friend such a look that he couldn't control himself,
"if 'twas in the ladies' room," and dealt the fellow
such a blow in the face with his brawny arm--for though
he was not very large, he was a Hercules in strength, and
as skilful with his fists as a prize-fighter--as stretched
him flat upon the floor.
//200.png
.pn +1
//201.png
.pn +1

.pm illo i_200 i_200.jpg 700px "PROTECTING THE INNOCENT."
//202.png
.pn +1

"This young lady is under my protection, and if you
harass her any more, I'll break your head," said he, as
the scamp "gathered" himself up, and looked for an instant
at my friend, perceiving then, perhaps, that the plain-looking
man, whom he had quite likely taken for a "common
country fellow," was something of a genius in the art
of self-defence, as well as that of offence, for my friend
was on his "pose," ready to resist the attacks of the
two.

The scamps almost instantly decamped, and about this
time the expected train arrived, and my friend led Hattie
to a car. Into the same the two men came; but my friend,
rising, and looking about at them as they passed back, and
they perceiving him, they said something to each other,
and turned about, and went into a forward car. My friend
hoped that that was the last of them; but at several stopping-places
on the road, one of them--not the one who
got the blow--would saunter through their car, as if looking
for some new in-comer, but evidently to feast his eyes
on Hattie's beauty,--so my friend thought.

After being well seated in the cars, my friend called to
mind, that, not long before, his wife had heard from some
of the relatives in Hattie's native village, with whom she
kept up an occasional correspondence, that Hattie Newberry
was engaged to a young man by the name of Dwight
Phelps, a member of a quite wealthy family in that place;
and he wondered if Hattie was going to New York to get
"fixed up" for the marriage, for he knew that she had some
relatives there somewhere, and his curiosity led him to inquire
if she was going to stay long in New York.

"Yes, perhaps so. I am going with my cousin Charlotte,--going
to work in the same store with her. She's been
trying to have me come for a long time, and at last I've
made up my mind to go." Hattie's parents were poor people;
industrious and respectable, but with quite a large
family; and Mr. Newberry himself, never a very "touch"
man, as they express it in Vermont, and ill a good deal,
//203.png
.pn +1
they had hard work enough to make ends meet, and send
the children to school, and all that.

"O, so you are going to live in New York! How's that?
Let me see; it seems to me that somebody wrote to my wife
a few weeks ago, that you and young Dwight Phelps were to
be married; and so I supposed you'd always stay up there."

Hattie blushed, and replied, "O, there was such a rumor;
but that's all over now." She tried to be cheerful,
but a sigh, which did not escape my friend's ear, and a sad
look, for an instant, which did not escape his eye, revealed
to him that something had gone wrong with her; and he
finally found, on joking her a little about the matter, kindly,
that young Phelps's father, who was a sort of a miser,
was in the way; that he wanted his son to marry some
rich girl, or not a poor one in money, at least, however
poor she might otherwise be; and the young man was in
his father's hands, so far as pecuniary means were concerned,
and would not be independent enough to think of
marrying soon. The old man Phelps had threatened to
disinherit him if he married against his will; and she had
determined to not make difficulty in the family, and was
on her way to New York, at her cousin's solicitation, to
go to work where she could earn something, and help her
father and mother support the family. The subject was
a painful one for Hattie to descant upon, and my friend
addressed himself to other matters of conversation. Hattie
informed him that her cousin, Charlotte Keeney, was
the chief clerk in a confectioner's establishment, with a
neat restaurant attached, in Sixth Avenue, near Twelfth
Street, New York, the proprietor of which was a certain Mr.
Henry ---- (Brown, for a name)--a popular, thriving <target id='tn203'>business
man, of the rigid school of morals; just, generous,
and kindly in manners, but as fixed in his opinions, and as
relentless against evil-doers, and as unforgiving of actual
moral delinquencies, as if he had been carved out of the
"ribs" of the Mayflower--(before she became a slave-ship);
a sort of wooden-headed man in all matters of morals;
//204.png
.pn +1
a descendant of the Puritan stock. This fact lightened
my friend's regret that Hattie had resolved to go to
the city to live, for he chanced to know Mr. Brown's reputation,
otherwise he would have felt it his duty to say
more to her of the perils and trials of city life than he
did. He said, as he looked upon her wonderful beauty,
and thought how many girls, almost as beautiful, had found
city life full of thorns; had borne sad trials, and suffered
deathly sorrows, principally through the fact of their exquisite
beauty; and reflected, too, that she was going there
with a wound upon her heart, and therefore less likely to
resist the city's temptations,--his heart quite overcame
him, and he wanted to take her directly into his own family,
and as a father protect her.

Along the route, as I have observed before, he noticed
the impertinence of the two men, constantly seeking to get
a sight at Hattie whenever the cars stopped. My friend
(call him Frederick Daniels) was greatly annoyed by this;
but it gave him occasion to descant to Hattie upon the
character of certain heartless beings she might meet with
in the city, and to advise her touching the companionships
she might make. But Hattie thought that in her
cousin Charlotte's riper experience she should find sufficient
protection, and she seemed to look upon Charlotte as
a wonder of wisdom as well as of goodness; and Mr. Daniels,
reflecting that Mr. Brown's must be as safe a place
as any for a young lady, probably contented himself with
asking Hattie to visit his family as often as she could; but
he lived far up town, and on the other side of the city
from Mr. Brown's, so it was not likely that she could find
time, save on Sundays, and then she would be obliged to
walk much to get to his house. But she promised him to
visit his family when she could, and to always come to him
if she needed aid or protection of any kind. The journey
was passed pleasantly on to New York, without notable
incident, save that at Hartford, where the cars were delayed
for some time on account of an accident which had
//205.png
.pn +1
occurred on the road some miles below: the two men
were met by a man of the same character with them, evidently,
and who gave them something to drink from his
flask, theirs being apparently empty, and which fired one
of them into unusual impudence, which made him annoying
to Hattie and Mr. Daniels--breaking in at times into
the ladies' sitting-room in the depot, whither they had
gone, with other passengers, for "sake of change" from the
cars. Mr. Daniels, it chanced, knew this third man, who
seemed to have no memory that he had ever run across
Mr. D. before; and knowing him, Mr. D. was not at a loss
where to place them. He told Hattie that they were gamblers,
and worse; besides, probably being pickpockets.
She, in her innocence, was surprised to learn that so well-dressed
men as these could be so low in character, and
Mr. D. felt that she almost questioned his judgment. So,
hoping to impress her with the danger of "trusting to
appearances," in a great city especially, he told her such
tales about such elegantly-dressed scoundrels as came into
his mind; and filled up the time of the journey with such
lessons as he thought might be of use to Hattie, and put
her on her guard against evil.

Mr. Daniels chanced to observe that the third villain
took passage with the other two from Hartford, and he
saw that this man had become more interested, if possible,
in Hattie than the other two, if anything was to be judged
by the more extreme eagerness with which he eyed her.
The third villain, whose name or <i>alias</i> was, as Mr. D.
knew, "Harland," was a more accomplished man than the
rest. He hailed from Meriden, Conn., where it was said
he was quite respectably related, and had at one time
occupied a respectable business position in New York;
but turning to sporting, he at last got involved, and operated
some adroit forgeries, and had been connected with
a swindling bogus lottery. It was in the detection and
breaking up of this concern that my friend Daniels had
come across Harland. This man had lost his best old
//206.png
.pn +1
friends, who discarded him outright, he being obliged to
take up with a low class of society; yet there was a natural,
or educated pride in him, which probably suffered
much from his debasement, and which prompted him to
make tools of these beings, whom he regarded, notwithstanding
his fraternizing with them, as inferior beings.
Mr. Daniels felt a renewed interest for Hattie when he
considered this adroit man; and the fear came over him
that the rascal would, in some way, manage to make himself
felt by her to her sorrow; and he told Hattie that the
fellow would as likely as not seek her out in her employment,
and that the place she was going to, being open to
the public, he would doubtless find her out; but that if
he did, she must not allow him to make her acquaintance,
beyond what her necessity as a clerk would demand of
her allowing. She promised him to observe his advice.
My friend, with his usual shrewdness, had preconceived that
these villains would endeavor to follow Hattie, to see where
she went on her arrival in New York; and when the passengers
alighted from the cars, he was not surprised to
find these men near him, watching his movements; and to
thwart them, he took Hattie and her trunk, by coach, to the
hotel, intending, as he did, to soon after take her to her place
of designation on Sixth Avenue, and to send from there
some trusty man for her trunk. The scoundrels followed in
another coach, and kept close behind him, alighted at the
same hotel, and registered their names just below his and
Hattie's. "Fred. Harland," "Edward Rowe," and "Philip
Jas. McHenry," were the entries, in the bold and elegant
hand of Harland. Mr. Daniels procured a room for himself
and one for Hattie, who began now to see the desperate
course which these men would pursue, and was very willing
to be guided by Daniels, to avoid being followed by
these fellows. Mr. Daniels, not being willing to be kept
close prisoner there by these men,--and the night was coming
on, too, and he wished to be at home,--went out to a
trusty friend's store, advised him of what was going on,
//207.png
.pn +1
and asked him to allow one of his lady clerks, about Hattie's
size, to go to the hotel parlor, the gentleman to follow
soon; and the girl, "for the fun of the thing, if nothing
more," as she giddily said, acquiescing, made entry to the
hotel parlor, whence Mr. Daniels took her to Hattie's room,
and caused her to assume Hattie's hat and shawl, in exchange
for which Hattie took hers; and after the merchant
had come over to the hotel, and had been made acquainted
with Hattie, Mr. Daniels took the young lady, and proceeded
through the hall to the street; and acting as if
utterly oblivious or careless of the existence of these fellows,
passed on, with his thickly-veiled charge upon his
arm, down the street. In crossing to the opposite side, at
no great distance from the hotel, he had opportunity to
look back without being suspected, and saw Harland, and
the man "Rowe" (the one whom he had knocked down at
Bellows' Falls), following slowly, but with eyes bent upon
him. He would have been better satisfied had he seen the
third following him. The young lady liked the sport, and
Daniels led the fellows quite a chase, and finally brought
about to the store of his friend, trusting that the latter's
sagacity had enabled him meanwhile to leave the hotel
with Hattie, and take her to Mr. Brown's, on Sixth Avenue.

He had told Hattie to take the key of her room with her,
and give it to his friend. The surprise of the scamps in
seeing Mr. Daniels come away from this store, and leave
"Hattie" there, must have been considerable. Mr. D.
went back to the hotel, and to his joy found that the merchant
had gone with the real Hattie; and he withdrew to
the store again, and awaited his return, which he made in
good time. It was then arranged that the porter of the
store should be sent for Hattie's trunk, and it be brought
there. Mr. D. went with the porter, paid the bills, and
took the trunk, brought it to the store, whence the next
day it was sent to Hattie's new home, and Mr. D. then
betook himself to his own home,--feeling that his stratagem
had saved Hattie much annoyance in the future,
//208.png
.pn +1
and perhaps much suffering. The next day the ladies re-exchanged,
through the porter, their hats and shawls, and
Mr. Daniels, being called away from the city soon on business,
and being exceedingly occupied for some two months
and over, had almost lost memory of Hattie altogether.
She, however, called at his house once in the mean while,
in his absence from home, and had a cheerful "reunion"
with the wife and the family. Mrs. Daniels took the greatest
interest in her, and regarded her beauty as something
"almost superhuman," she said. She knew that as a child
she bade fair to become a beautiful woman; but the change
had been so great in her in the last eight years (for Mrs.
Daniels had seen her once since her husband had, before
the latter's late meeting with her), that she would
not have known her at first, had she not given her her
name, and then could barely recognize that it was she.

Mrs. Daniels gladly accepted the husband's invitation to
"go down and call on Hattie Newberry," which they did;
and on entering the confectioner's shop, what was Mr. Daniels's
astonishment and horror, on discovering there both
Harland and McHenry, in cheery conversation with one
of the girls, whom he took, and who so proved, to be Charlotte
Keeney, Hattie's cousin! Evidently they were old
acquaintances of hers. Mr. and Mrs. Daniels passed by
them, on to where they discovered Hattie, who saluted
them cordially, asked them into the little rear saloon, and
called in her employer, Mr. Brown, to whom she presented
them as old friends, who "used to live in Vermont." They
had a charming visit with Hattie, who was released from
her engagements by her kind employer, in order to entertain
them, and Mr. Brown sent in confections and "goodies"
for them to carry back to their family, and gave them much
of his attention besides. Mr. Daniels was indignant to find
those two men there; but he knew not precisely what to
do. Had they hunted out Hattie, or were they old acquaintances
of Charlotte, and had found Hattie there by
accident when calling on the former? Were they time-old
//209.png
.pn +1
customers of the place, or recent comers? These and such
like questions occupied his mind. He wanted to speak to
Mr. Brown, and tell him of the character of these men; but
they might be good customers,--certainly they were lavish
with their money that night,--and it was clear that
Charlotte liked them; indeed she seemed fond of them,
and Mr. Daniels hesitated as to what to do, for fear of
giving offence. He knew the reputation of Mr. Brown, to
be sure, and that he would not wish his clerks to be on
terms of friendship with such villains, if he knew their
true character. But then he, Daniels, was a comparative
stranger to Mr. Brown, and why should Brown accept his
single word as against such well-behaved "gentlemen,"
who were good customers, too. Besides, business men,
however good they may be themselves, exist upon, and
make their money out of, their customers; and whoever
should enter upon a close scrutiny of the character of his
patrons in New York, would be apt to find nine scamps in
every ten persons. The fact is, that the greed for money
is so great in New York, and all over the country, that the
best men come to be as polite to their most wicked patrons
and customers, as to those of high and noble characters.

Mr. Daniels, as a detective, whose business it is to
"mind other people's business" in some respects, felt
more keenly than most men feel the like, the propriety
and expediency of minding his own business, and was
cautious in his proceedings therefore. He made up his
mind to say nothing to any one except Hattie, at first, at
least; and so, when she, and his wife, and himself were
quite alone together, he spoke to her of these men as
the ones whom they had encountered on the cars, and
whom she had escaped. What was not his astonishment
when he found that she did not recognize them as <target id='tn209'>such.
It appeared that Harland was an old friend of Charlotte,
of whom Charlotte had, in fact, written her before she
came on,--speaking of her having been, the night before
her letter was dated, to the theatre, with her friend, Mr.
//210.png
.pn +1
Harland, "a very fine, spirited gentleman," etc., whom
Hattie would like, she thought. Mr. Daniels had not
mentioned the names of these men to Hattie on the day
of her escape from the hotel. It had not occurred to him
to do that; and when, in the course of a week or two after
her arrival at Mr. Brown's, Harland called on Charlotte,
who received him joyfully, and after a while presented
him in warm terms to Hattie, she of course did not recognize
him by his name, though she thought she'd seen him
somewhere; but she reflected that on her way to her
boarding-house--for she did not board with Charlotte--she
saw many noticeable men, and probably had encountered
him somewhere in going or coming. But notwithstanding
Mr. Daniels's assurance, she could not identify
either of the men as having been aboard the cars that day;
and it was evident that they had made quite a pleasant
impression upon her mind. They had been there quite
often; and Mr. Daniels, from what he saw of their sly
glances towards Hattie, discovered that it was she, rather
than Charlotte, whom they came most to see. But Mr.
Daniels was not willing to leave without making some further
effort in Hattie's behalf; and he asked her to call
Charlotte into the room, to see him and his wife, while Hattie
should wait upon the customers, and especially these
men. He thought that possibly Hattie might yet call
them to mind as the scamps who pursued her that day.

It was evident to him that the men recognized him, and
were bound to stay as long as he did, and entertain Charlotte.
They proved themselves "good customers" that
night, if never before; in fact, Hattie confessed that she
thought they had bought more that night than in all their
calls before. She went, at Mr. Daniels's request, and asked
Charlotte to go into the little room; and Charlotte said she
would "soon." The men heard the request, and it was
clear that they meant that she should not go, and so they
kept chatting on; but Hattie, going out again, and evincing
some anxiety, Charlotte excused herself to the men, and
//211.png
.pn +1
went, not however till Harland, calling her back after she
had gone a few steps after Hattie, said something to her.
She came to the table where Mr. and Mrs. Daniels were
sitting, and thanked them for their wish to see her, but
said they must excuse her; that they saw how occupied
she was, and that Mr. Brown, though a kind, generous
man, was very earnest in wishing his clerks to do their
full duty, and not lose a chance to trade. She hoped they
would come again, and find her more at leisure. Of course
Mr. Daniels could have nothing to reply to this, but to
thank her, etc., and she bowed herself away pleasantly,
and so Daniels was foiled in that move; and at last, contented
himself with earnest advice to Hattie to let these
men alone, to avoid them all she could, and to tell Charlotte
their true character, and that they were the men who persecuted
her on the day of her arrival. Hattie promised to
heed Mr. Daniels's advice, and she told Charlotte about the
men, on the first good opportunity that she had; but Charlotte
could not believe it, especially as Hattie had not recognized
Harland before, and confessed that she could not
yet call him to mind. "But Mr. Daniels cannot be mistaken,"
said she. "I did not look the men in their faces
much. I avoided them, and would not be apt to remember
them in other dress, and coming here as your old friends."
But Charlotte would not be persuaded, and believed Mr.
Daniels mistaken. Indeed, she finally told Hattie that
Harland said he had seen her friend, Mr. Daniels, somewhere
before; couldn't say where; but that he was a man
of poor character he knew, and he wondered Hattie allowed
him and his wife to call on her. This, Mr. Daniels
heard long after from Hattie's lips. That night Mr. D.
went home down-hearted, feeling that he had failed to impress
Hattie sufficiently of her danger; but he had made
her promise him, that if she ever had any serious trouble
she would seek his aid, and that she would call on him and
his family, whenever she could find it convenient to do so.

Time went on, and though Mr. Daniels's mind frequently
//212.png
.pn +1
reverted to Hattie, yet his business cares did not allow
him to visit her. He made up his mind that night that
the wretches intended to possess themselves of her in
some way, and that they would carry out their vile purpose
if possible. He talked with Mrs. Daniels about it.
Such beauty as Hattie's would not fade easily, and such a
prize as she would be sought. He hoped she'd make the
acquaintance of some good man, and get married, and thus
be saved from trouble; but he reflected that these villains
would manage to keep such men as that away from her.
As for themselves, even if either of them was moved by
her beauty to love her, he probably then had a half dozen
wives somewhere; and would prefer her as mistress rather
than wife, even if he were unmarried. Mrs. Daniels had
no fear for Hattie; which consoled Mr. Daniels somewhat.
She said she <i>knew</i> that such a girl as Hattie could take
care of herself as against the seducers. She felt in her
woman's nature that there was something in Hattie's composition
which the despoiler could not corrupt, and which
would be her protection; besides, Hattie's duties required
her services evenings, and these men had not much opportunity
to ply their villanous arts. Mr. Daniels deferred
a good deal to his wife's judgment in this, and felt more
easy--and time wore on.

Three or four more months had passed, and one night,
just as Mr. Daniels had returned home, there was a violent
ringing of his door-bell, which he answered on the spot, not
having yet removed his overcoat. The messenger had
come for him, with imploring word from Hattie Newberry,
that he should at once come to the Jefferson Market Station
to see her. She was in trouble: charged with crime,
and was almost frantic; had been rescued, an hour before,
from the North River, where she had attempted to drown
herself, and was calling, in incoherent terms, his name, and
much which they could not make out. He must go at
once, and he did, with a willing but a sad heart. He revolved
all sorts of possibilities in his mind as he accompanied
//213.png
.pn +1
the messenger, and arriving at the station-house,
found there poor Hattie, who, recognizing him, rushed
upon him, threw her arms about his neck, and exclaimed,
"O, if I had but minded your good advice. I am not
guilty! not guilty!--and I wanted to die." "No, no, Hattie,
you are not guilty," he replied; "no matter what the
charge is, you are not guilty of any crime." At this point
a brother detective stepped up, one of Mr. Daniels's best
friends. His clothes were still wet, and Daniels exclaimed,
"What, was it you, Montgomery, that rescued my child here
from the water? God bless you!" "Yes,"--and Montgomery,
pulling him by his sleeve, as if to take him away,
he said to Hattie, "Be calm, Hattie, you are my child, and
nothing shall hurt you; excuse me a moment, I'll be right
back." "Yes, yes," interposed Montgomery, who was a
splendid officer, and greatly respected by all about the
station, "I assure you that what Mr. Daniels says is
right. You shall not be harmed, and we'll be back
soon."

Daniels and Montgomery went aside, and the latter said,
"Tell me all about this girl, Daniels. I never saw such
beauty. I thought one spell she'd drag me down, but I
would have gone under willingly to save her; and when
she called your name I was glad, for I knew all was right
somehow--but I haven't questioned her much; indeed,
she's been half delirious till you came; but I see her eye
is getting natural." Montgomery then went on to tell him
how he happened to be down near the wharf, saw a well-dressed
girl running in such a mad way as to arrest his
attention, and he followed her, and saw her plunge off the
dock, but not before she had paused a second, and looked
about, when he caught sight of her wondrous face. His
first thought was, that she was some unfortunate of the
town, who had resolved to end her unhappy career; but
he stripped off his outer coat and boots, and ran along
some logs which were lying in the water, and reached out
a pole to her which he had caught up. As she rose, puffing
//214.png
.pn +1
//215.png
.pn +1
//216.png
.pn +1
and struggling, she seized it, and he saw that the
water had chilled out her purpose of suicide; and, indeed,
she cried for help, and he plunged in, finding the water
deeper than he thought, and had a hard struggle to get
out with her, for she was frantic, and grasped his arms so
that he could hardly use them. He had gotten assistance
and a carriage, and had taken her to the station, and
quickly after arriving there had encountered an officer,
who said he was after her; that she was a thief, had stolen
a diamond ring of great value, "and, of course, lots of
other things," as he said. But Montgomery would not
give her up till Daniels came, after hearing her call for
him. This was all that Montgomery knew about the
matter. <target id='tn216'>

.pm illo i_214 i_214.jpg 700px "RESCUE OF HATTIE NEWBERRY."

Dry clothes had been procured for Hattie, and she had
recovered from her fright a little when Daniels came.
Daniels told Montgomery all about her, and they both believed
her innocent, and resolved to save her. The charge
was surely false, they said, and they went back to her,
dismissed those about her, and asked her to tell them her
trouble, which, in her plain, simple way she did. She had
been charged by Harland with having filched from him a
valuable diamond ring, worth three hundred dollars. She
had denied it; and Harland had asked her to let her room
be searched, and she had willingly done so; and in company
with an officer, she had gone to her room with Charlotte
and Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and allowed the search;
and there, to her consternation, in her own reticule,
wrapped up in a little white paper, was found the very
ring Harland had described. "The villain slipped it in
there in the search!" exclaimed Daniels. "No, no," said
she, "Mr. Brown opened the box, and found the reticule,
and examined it himself. Harland did not touch it."
"Did he examine anything?" "No, he didn't touch
anything," said she. "Mr. Brown and Mrs. Brown did
the searching; he looked on." "Then," said Montgomery,
"the villain had, in some way, got the ring in there. He
//217.png
.pn +1
knew what the search would result in,--felt sure of his
game."

Mr. Brown was convinced of the girl's guilt, and was
going to discharge her. He was dreadfully perplexed by
it, for he had thought Hattie the best of girls; but her
guilt was so apparent to him as to excite his old Puritan
sense of justice. Mercy lost its hold in his heart, but he
consented, at Harland's suggestion, to let her stay a day
or so longer. Harland said, that now he had got his ring
he did not care to punish her; that he presumed she had
been sorely tempted by it, for she had seen it in his possession,
and he knew well enough when she took it. He
thought it too bad to not give her another trial; but Mr.
Brown would have no thief in his employ, but would let
her stay a day or two,--but not to work,--till Harland
could get her a place. When Daniels and Montgomery
got to this part of her story, they could account for the
man's villany; and consulting with each other away from
Hattie, concluded to send at once for Mrs. Daniels, for
they saw that there were probably things which Hattie
would prefer to tell to a woman. While the carriage was
gone for Mrs. D., they learned further of Hattie's story:
that she partly loved Harland, that she was innocent of
the theft, and somehow suspected him of having planned
to destroy her character. The light began that day to
open upon her mind, and she loathed him; and so dreadful
were her feelings, and so deep her sense of wrong at Mr.
Brown's hands, in that he had no charity for her, that,
brooding over it all, and thinking what a horrible story
would reach her home about her, she got frenzied, and
resolved to put an end to her life. She expected Harland
at about such an hour, and the nearer that approached the
more terrible her condition seemed to be; and finally, life
seeming unendurable longer, she had rushed from the
house, as it would seem, just about the time Harland and
the officer with him had come. This would account for
the appearance of the officer whom Montgomery had seen.
//218.png
.pn +1

"That scamp is no officer," exclaimed Montgomery, when
he came to hear this, for he was the same man, she said,
who had accompanied Harland on the day of the search.
"I thought I had seen him before. Do you go, Daniels,
and meet him, for he may know me. I think it is a wretch
by the name of Harry Restell; and if it is he, you'll discover
a slit in the lobe of the left ear, shaped liked an inverted
'V,' and if you notice further, you'll see a slight
inclination of the head to the left side, as if the cords of
the neck, on the left side, were a little shorter than on the
other, and stiff. If you find so much, make his acquaintance
pleasantly, get him to talk with you, and go with you
about the cells, and without ceremony shut him in; call
Badger for the keys, and tell him I told you, for this will
end that game, and send for me instantly. I'll fix him.
I want him." Mr. Daniels went, and finding Restell, the
man whom Montgomery suspected, was adroit enough to
accomplish the feat given him to perform in less than fifteen
minutes; and Montgomery was delighted with the
word to "come." He told Hattie to be calm; that the
rascals would be foiled, and she proved innocent,--as she
was, in reality, before another day rolled round. He
rushed to the cells, opened the one in which was Restell,
drew in Daniels with him, and clutching the villain by the
hair, said to him, "I have you, you scamp, you murderer,
you --!" But it will hardly do to repeat here the last
word, implying crimes which, though common enough, are
hardly fit for the eye of the general reader to see named
in print. "You show your guilt, and my proof you know,
when I name Mary ----; and now you have been personating
an officer, helping that Harland to destroy an innocent
girl. You have your choice, whether to go with me
at once to the Tombs, and from there to Sing Sing Prison
for five or ten years, or to tell me all about what Harland
and you have been doing. Make a full confession." Montgomery
spoke as rapidly as lightning, and there was a
terrible firmness and earnestness in his voice. Restell
//219.png
.pn +1
quivered. He saw that he was known. He had been
guilty of a terrible crime; had personated an officer, too,--a
misdemeanor punishable with fine,--and he was sure to
be caught in the conspiracy with Harland; and he thought
it the better way to confess at once, which he did; and
he told Montgomery that Harland had managed to slip the
ring into the girl's reticule at the theatre a few nights before;
that the ring was a paste one, and not a diamond
ring; that its setting was really worth about twenty-five
dollars, but the diamond being only paste, Harland had
not risked much; that Harland wanted to degrade the
girl, get her away from her place, get her a situation himself,
make her dependent on him, and finally make her his
mistress. "And he told me I might have her a part of the
time, if I would help support her," said Restell; "and when
I came to see her, I found her so beautiful that I agreed
to help him, and went with him, as an officer, to look for
the ring, and we were after her to-night, and got there
five minutes after she'd left. That's how 'tis," said he,
"and I went one way in search of her, and Harland another."
"Where were you to meet when one of you
found her?" quickly asked Daniels. "At Washington Parade
Ground, on this north-west corner." "Ay, ay,"
said Daniels, "I know that fellow. We'll nab him,"--and
taking an officer with him, proceeded at once to the spot,
and luckily found Harland walking back and forth there,
very nervously. Daniels knew him, and without a word,
as they were about to pass each other, knocked the rascal
down, and fell upon him, while the officer clutched him
too. "Don't make any noise, or you are a dead man,"
said Daniels. "Give me that diamond ring the first thing,
or die," clutching the scoundrel by the throat, till he was
so nearly dead that he could hardly point with his finger
to an inside vest pocket, where Daniels put his hand, and
found a wallet, in which he found the ring. Getting that,
he let the scamp up. He wanted the ring to prove its
paste character, as one of the evidences against the villain.
//220.png
.pn +1
"Now," said he, "Restell is nabbed. You see he
has 'peached' on you, and we want you to go along with
us to him." The officer told Harland that if he didn't go
quietly, he would "put the irons on;" and Harland felt
the propriety of subjection, without any attempt at escape.
Meanwhile Mrs. Daniels had arrived, and being instructed
by Montgomery, had inquired into Harland's conduct towards
her. It was evident that his intentions had long been
to possess her, but that the girl, in her innocence, had not
known what he meant; and when he had asked her to
marry him, although she had considerable liking of, and affection
for him, she had refused to accept him for the time,
and he had urged her several times. She said he was always
quite nervous, and sometimes almost angry, that she
would not marry him; yet, after all, he had been very
kind to her in most respects; had made her several presents,
and taken her and her cousin to the theatre, etc.,
whenever they could get away from the shop. Some
things which she told Mrs. Daniels, on the latter's minutely
inquiring into the modes in which he had treated
her, and what he had said, showed a peculiar innocence in
the girl, amounting to almost stupidity. Yet it was no
wonder, after all, in view of her careful rearing at home.

What Mrs. D. learned confirmed Mr. D.'s and Montgomery's
theory, and with it, and all they had learned before,
they had solved the problem. Harland saw how thoroughly
he was caught, and thought best to acknowledge that
what Restell had disclosed was the truth; that the girl
was innocent; and he went so far as to express his love for
her with tears, and was allowed to see her, and beg her
pardon on his knees, with protestations of love, and his
desire to marry her. He was allowed to do this, only that
Hattie might have better evidence of her innocence, for it
was done in Mr. and Mrs. Daniels's and Montgomery's presence.
Harland wanted to give her the ring which Daniels
handed to her for him, but she spurned it; and Daniels
said he would keep it for her, to which Harland consented;
//221.png
.pn +1
for Daniels had a notion that Harland would yet do evil
with it if he possessed it. To make all sure, Mr. Brown
was sent for, routed out of bed, and brought before the
girl and Harland, and Harland made to repeat his confession
before him. Mr. Brown was delighted, put his arms
about Hattie, called her his own child, and said he could
not all the while believe she <i>meant</i> to do any wrong; but
there was the ring in the reticule, and she had stoutly denied
having any such ring; and how could it have gotten
in there without her putting it there? etc. This had
convinced him against his will; but he said he would never
believe any charge against anybody on circumstantial evidence
again, Hattie was taken back into his employ, remained
with him over a year, as kindly cared for as if she
was his child, and finally went back to Vermont as the
wife of young Phelps, who had, at last, overcome his father's
objections, mostly through his mother's intercessions,
who had died meanwhile, and who, on her death-bed,
had made him promise to let the son marry the girl
he loved.

Harland agreed to leave New York forever if proceedings
were not taken against him; and having money enough
(obtained, though, by gambling and forgeries), the officers
thought it no wrong to make him pay pretty liberally for
the trouble he had made; and Mr. Daniels, having Hattie's
good at heart, was not easy with him in his demands, but
secured enough, so that Mr. Brown could afford to do a
great deal for her; for, at different times, Mr. Daniels put
sums of money into Mr. Brown's hands to buy this or that
for Hattie, letting her suppose that it all came from Brown's
generosity; and it should be added, that the latter <i>was</i> generous
to her also, for he always added to the sums given
him, and purchased better things than directed for her, as
a sort of quietus, it is supposed, to his wounded conscience,
in believing that she was guilty. Harland decamped; but
he came back at last, and carried Charlotte Keeney off with
him somewhere as his wife,--which was the strangest
//222.png
.pn +1
//223.png
.pn +1
//224.png
.pn +1
part of the story. She had loved him before Hattie came,
and he had probably loved her, but Hattie's great beauty
had attracted him from her; that is, his affection,--for he
had always taken Charlotte along with Hattie to theatres
and elsewhere. The fact is, there was a jealousy of Hattie
in Charlotte's heart, so great, that though she loved her
cousin, it seemed that she was almost sorry that she
proved innocent at last; and she felt Harland's absence,
notwithstanding his villany, greatly. The heart of a woman
will cling to her lover or husband in crime or obloquy,
almost as strongly as the heart of a loving man will
cling to, and protect, the woman he really loves, doing
deeds of crime at her will, and, in fact, wrecking fortune,
and health, and life at her behest. It is common to declare
the constancy of woman greater than that of man;
but that is a false notion, cherished only by the inexperienced
in human nature's laws. Charlotte found pardon
in her own heart for Harland; and if she did not invent
sensible excuses for his conduct, was not wanting in the
number of them. She married, and was heard from afterwards
as living happily with him somewhere.

.pm illo i_222 i_222.jpg  467px "RESTELL AT SING SING."

Restell expected to escape his deserts by peaching on
Harland; but Montgomery had not so promised him when
Daniels caged him in the cell, and Montgomery had taken
care to not do so, for officers of the law and detectives are
very scrupulous about keeping their plighted word to even
the basest criminals. And if they were not so, the whole
fraternity of wretches would know it, and refuse to give
evidence at any time, and thus many a criminal mystery
would go unexplained, and many an innocent, like Hattie,
might suffer the full consequences of a criminality of
which they were not guilty. It is often better to let a
dozen guilty go than that one innocent should suffer.
Restell was taken to the Tombs, on charge of a crime here
unmentionable; but a portion of the evidence against him
failed by the death of a witness for the prosecution,
while he lay in prison, and a matter of forgery having
//225.png
.pn +1
meanwhile become disclosed involving him, he was tried
on that, and sent to Sing Sing for four years and some
months--the longest term the law would allow for his
offence.

Mr. Daniels interwove in this narrative many interesting
facts, to which I cannot, at this distance of time, do
justice. He was a keen observer of human nature, and
told a story pleasantly. He recited to me many other
tales of almost equal interest; and, as I learn that he is
alive at this writing, I am not sure that I shall not try to
hunt him up, and engage him to give zest, with his piquant
stories, to these pages; for it matters not whose an interesting
experience may be, so that we have the facts.
Truly, "facts <i>are</i> stranger than fictions" often; and it has
occurred to me, while hunting over my diaries and burnishing
up my memory, to hint to my publishers that the
truest, shortest, and best way to collect a volume of marvellous
experiences would be to invite a number of detectives
to dinner, accompanied by short-hand reporters, and
treat them so well that they tarry with their story-telling
through the night.
//226.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=aboutbogus
ABOUT BOGUS LOTTERIES.
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
HOW THEY ARE "GOT UP"--THEIR MODE OF OPERATIONS DETAILED--HOW
THEY MANAGE THE "DRAWN NUMBERS" BEFOREHAND--THE
GREAT SHREWDNESS OF THE OPERATORS--THE SOCIAL RESPECTABILITY
OF THESE--THE GREAT FIRM OF "G. W. HUNTINGTON & CO."--THE
IMMENSE CIRCULATION OF THEIR JOURNAL--THEIR VICTIM, A
MAINE FARMER, WHO BELIEVED HE HAD "DRAWN" FIVE THOUSAND
DOLLARS, AND COUNSELLOR WHEATON, HIS LAWYER, A STORY TO THE
POINT--WHO INVEST IN LOTTERIES: CHILDREN, WIDOWS, CLERGYMEN,
BANK CASHIERS, ETC.--HOW THE FIRM OF "G. W. H. & CO." WAS
CAPTURED--NO. 23, WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK, THEIR PRETENDED
BANKING HOUSE--HOW A BOGUS LOTTERY COMPANY SWINDLED ITS
OWN AGENTS--A QUEER TALE.
.ll +4
.in -4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>The</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
The
.if-
object of these narratives is not simply to paint human
nature in the color of its subtle facts, more strange
than the imaginings of fiction, in order to excite the reader's
mind as he runs over these pages, or to feed the
greediness for the marvellous--not these alone; but the
writer trusts that what he has taken so much pains to cull
out of the repertoire of his observations and experiences,
and from those of others, and reproduce here for the instruction
of his fellow-men, shall be found useful as well
as interesting; and by teaching those who are inclined to
the commission of offences against law and the good order
of society, that they cannot easily escape discovery if they
commit crimes, shall prevent, to some degree, the perpetration
of such crimes. But there are sufferers as well
as guilty actors, and these the writer would serve also, as
well as preserve the innocent and unwary from the operation
of those crafts and cunning devices by which they
might be made sufferers.

To-day, tumbling over some old files of notes and papers
//227.png
.pn +1
at the bottom of an old trunk, the contents of which had
not been thoroughly disturbed for over ten years before,
there came to light a sealed package, marked "The Bogus
Lottery Papers: not to be opened without my consent."
This package has awakened a host of "memories of other
days," and decided me to wander a little perhaps from the
preconceived line of these narratives; and not so, either;
for in this tale it will be seen that the detective had his
legitimate part to play in the matter which it recalls.

The package is found to contain notes for guidance in
working up the case; letters from dupes or victims of the
crafty speculators in human credulity; bits of the personal
history of some of these wily scamps, and which they
would hardly desire to see in public print, with their true
names affixed (for some of them were and are of high rank
in the business, social, and literary world); copies of certain
financial journals, devoted to the dissemination of remarkable
facts tending to show the wise philosophy of
"nothing venture, nothing have," and from their first column
to the last, filled with cunning lies; my own correspondence
with certain victims; memoranda of facts gathered
at sundry post offices and elsewhere; piteous letters
from the deluded; correspondence with lawyers on the
subject at issue, etc., etc.,--quite a little pile, as they lie
on my table here. Some of the letters have grown dark
with age, and there is a peculiar smell about them, as if
they hinted at unsavory things, and so they do.

And these remind one of other years very peculiarly,
and suggest many thoughts on human weakness and perversity.
I am vexed not a little as I look over them, and
call to mind the class of men who mingled in the iniquities
of which I am about to speak, that I cannot write out these
men's names for the public eye. But some of them have
"reformed," have gone into legitimate business, and have
families dear to them, and who were ever quite unconscious
of the modes by which their husbands and fathers
obtained money here in this seething sea of iniquity of
//228.png
.pn +1
New York,--this worse than modern Babylon,--whom it
would be cruel now to wound. And I call to memory now
one of these operators in petty villany, who is dead--a noble
fellow in the general way, a son of a distinguished
father, well bred, and related by blood to some of the
first, and really finest people in New York. Ah! what
would a certain philanthropist say--a man who leads noble
charities, devotes his now declining years to the practical
duties of a Sunday school teacher, and whose voice
has been, within a few years past, heard in the national Congress,
as that of one of the few there whom the corruptions of
politics have not stained; a man of large wealth, with which
he makes far less display than many a man of the expensive
habits of these latter days with but a tenth or fiftieth
of the former's income, and a man of marked intelligence,
too, as well as of high morals,--what would he say, were it
disclosed to him that his relatives, his nephews, the sons
of his not unnoted sisters, were participants in these
crimes,--cool-blooded, mean, devilish,--and continued, and
carried on, under the guise of "business," and indeed as a
business for years? But if this simply, were told him, he
could not understand the half, for he would not know the
half. I shall spare the participants in those criminal
schemes the mention of their names here, though I conceive
that I should have done no more than my duty had
I, at the time in question, given them publicity through
the press. But even in the last ten years the public sentiment
has largely changed, not only in New York, but
throughout the country, perhaps, in regard to the true
standard of morals, or the recognition of any standard at
all, may be; and those who are acquainted with the modes
of conducting business in Wall Street,--(the real centre
of practical government for the nation),--and therefore
know what iniquities transpire there in the way of "legitimate
business," so called, could hardly be surprised at
anything I might disclose of the past. It is a sad reflection
that the greed of gain governs everything else in
//229.png
.pn +1
these days in this Union; and that the manner of obtaining
a fortune is, in most people's opinion, of no account,
however vile, in comparison with the matter of possessing
it. Money is a veil which will cover every crime, and nobody
knows this fact more surely than the detective. It
is a fact, that to save anything like a fair proportion of the
value of a thing stolen, the loser will almost universally
compromise with the thief when the detective secures
him. "Compounding a felony," in itself a crime at the
Common Law, has become so universal as to be the "common
law" itself: and in New York it is a matter of but
slight disgrace, at most, to be guilty of any crime; and
especially of those crimes by which the perpetrator secures
a large amount of money. Wall Street, for example,
is thronged every day by men in respectable and high
ranks of society, who are frequently guilty of crimes
which would, a generation ago, have consigned them to
the State Prison for a long term of years, if not for life.
But after all, the reflection comes that morals, like the
matter of conscience, are educatable, changeable; and
that the hearts of men are not so very bad at bottom,
most wrongs being chargeable to the institutions of the
people. Competition, instead of coöperation, being the rule,
and the depraved doctrines of such writers as Carlyle, advocating
the development of the individual, rather than
the interest of communities and blended peoples, have had
a direct tendency to increase the volume of crime.

But I will, with these "prefatory remarks," return to
the body of my subject. New York contains a large number
of people who obtain their living by the practice of
frauds, of one kind and another. The gambling saloons,
with their marked cards, and faro banks, so arranged that
while the pretension of fairness is observed, the chances
in favor of the bank are made sure in the proportion
of ninety per cent. to ten per cent. for every hundred dollars
which go upon the table; the iniquitous "corners"
made in Wall Street, and all the fine scheming of the
//230.png
.pn +1
Bulls and the Bears, etc., etc., illustrate this. In fact, commerce
itself is, in all its avenues, made to bend to this skill
of fraud in making money, and making a living; and it is
a wonder that there are not more, rather than less of the
institutions of which I am about to speak, in New York.
These exist to-day; but it is a long while since I have
been called into relations with them in a professional capacity.

At the time to which I allude, there were several bogus
Lottery Companies having their centre in New York, and
extending their operations all over the country, fleecing
the credulous people to the extent of hundreds of thousands
of dollars a year. In Maryland and in Georgia, and
also in Kentucky, at that time, lotteries were licensed, and
perhaps in some other States; but most of the States prohibited
them. Cuba, too, licensed extensive lotteries, and
Havana was, as she still is, the chief city of the world,
perhaps, in this respect. The bogus companies in New
York mostly pretended to be agents of the legitimate
companies to which I allude above; and purported to give
their "policy-holders" the true reports of the public drawings
of these lotteries, by which their fate, as winners or
losers, was decided. Among these companies of scamps,
was one, self-styled "G. W. Huntington & Co.," concocted
and "managed" by men of classical education, high bred,
representing some of the really best families in the land,
but who had not been as fortunate in legitimate business
as desirable, and so resorted to this course of fraud in
order to make money easier, and more of it. They knew
the value of advertising, to any business, and they published
a sheet in the form, in part, of a literary paper, in
which counterfeit schemes of the companies they pretended
to represent, were set forth in due style. It appeared,
in the course of my investigation of these affairs,
that this company issued monthly no less than two hundred
thousand copies of this paper, which were sent to
various addresses, culled out of directories, and otherwise
//231.png
.pn +1
obtained, from almost every village as well as city in the
nation, north and south, east and west; but principally in
the Western and Middle States. As the agents of the companies
they pretended to represent, and of pretended companies
too, which never had an existence, these men were
in constant receipt of letters, containing from fifty cents,
as a minimum, up to ten dollars, usually the maximum,
from their victims, who wished to purchase tickets in
this or that drawing; and they <i>got</i> tickets in return, to be
sure. I was informed that these letters were received in
numbers varying from thirty to a hundred a day, for several
days, and even weeks at a time, when some especially
grand "drawing" was announced to soon take place.
Their mode of operations, as disclosed in our investigations,
was this: They first fixed upon nine numbers, which
they were to report after the alleged (pretended) drawing
should have taken place, as the numbers drawn--thus,
for example:--

.ce
1, 7, 14, 35, 11, 8, 55, 91, 240.

According to their "rules," whoever chanced to hold a
ticket upon which any three of the above numbers should
appear in consecutive order (as, for example, 1, 7, 14; or
11, 8, 55; or 7, 14, 35)--would draw the largest prize
of the scheme in which he bought his ticket, and in many
of these schemes such sums as $50,000, or $100,000, or
$250,000, were announced as the chief prizes; and then
there were numerous small prizes in each scheme which
the ticket holder was sure to draw if he happened to hold
a ticket with numbers thereon, which should represent
<i>two</i> of the above numbers consecutively; and so on ran
their rules. Well, having previously decided what numbers
they would report to their countless victims as the
drawn numbers, these wily scoundrels had, for their safety,
only to take care in issuing each ticket to see that it did
not contain any three of the "drawn numbers" in consecutive
order. To A, for example, they would send a ticket
//232.png
.pn +1
bearing the Nos. "1," "7," <target id='tn232'>"80"; to B, "11," "8," "200", etc.,
etc.; and after the "drawing" they would send their report,
containing a slip of paper bearing the nine "drawn
numbers," as above arranged, with a letter, running
somewhat this wise.--I am sure I had, at one time, several
of the letters actually sent to victims, but they do not disclose
themselves from my package now; but no matter,
for my memory of them is pretty clear. The report of
drawings was private; but the letters were usually written
with a pen, in part, in order the better to flatter each person
that the company took especial notice of him, and
hoped for his particular success.

.ce
(Here was a picture of their Banking Office.)

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.nf c
<sc>Banking House of G. W. Huntington & Co.</sc>, Bankers and Brokers,
and Dealers in Foreign Exchange, and Agents for the chief
Baltimore and Havana Lotteries, 23 William Street.
.nf-
.sp 1
.ll -2
.rj
"<sc>New York</sc>, June 14, 1858.
.ll +2

.ti 0
"<sc>John Henry Jones, Esq.</sc>, <i>Harrisburgh, Pa.</i>

"The public drawing of the 'Grand Consolidated Lotteries'
of Baltimore, Md., No. ----, took place as advertised,
yesterday. Herewith find slip bearing the drawn
numbers." (Thus far, save the address, printed, then followed
in writing.) "We are sorry to perceive that your
ticket in scheme No. ----, and numbered 14, 35, 80, has
drawn a blank. But you observe that you came near winning
the chief prize, as we heartily wish you had (as it is
for our interest as agents that our special customers be
lucky); '14, 35' only needed '11' to follow them, to
have made you a rich man. But perhaps your luck will
come next time. 'Perseverance is a virtue which wins
in the long run.' Hoping for your further favors, and
that you will yet be amply lucky, we beg to remain,

.ll -8
.rj
"Your obedient, humble servants,
.ll +8

.ll -2
.rj
"<sc>G. W. Huntington & Co.</sc>"
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1
//233.png
.pn +1

Now, "John Henry Jones, Esq." was probably an ignorant,
low-minded, dirty-faced ironmonger, of Harrisburgh,
who managed now and then to get together a few dollars,
and had a hankering to get rich fast. His letter to the
company was badly spelled, and so forth; but it contained
money, and was, therefore, as acceptable as the elegantly-written
letter of some cashier of a bank in Ohio, or some
poor clergyman of Illinois, who thought it no harm to try
his luck for once--(for many clergymen, as well as others,
get bitten by these schemes). John had never been addressed
as "Esquire" before; never received such a
polite letter in his life, and from a great banking house, in
the largest city on the continent! and John was flattered.
Besides, he had almost drawn a great prize; of course he
would "try again," and again, and again, for it appears that
many persons become infatuated in this sort of speculation,
and will buy lottery tickets several times a year, and year
after year, for a long period, even without a particle of
success.

When a customer sent these fellows ten dollars, they
would so arrange the numbers on his ticket, sometimes,
in relation to the prepared drawn numbers, as to allow
him to draw one, two, or three dollars, so that he should
not feel that his loss had been entire, and to tempt him by
a little success to try again for a greater one. This will
serve to illustrate the business ways of the fellows; and
just here, since it now comes to mind, perhaps I had better
note a little "side issue" of one of these companies,
of which I was told by one of the participants. The company
had its agents,--postmasters, many of them,--all over
the country,--and thought they would make a little speculation
on their agents themselves. So they prepared a
splendid "scheme,"--a wonderful <sc>Grand Consolidated
Union Drawing</sc>, etc. The tickets were most elegantly
printed, and vary-colored, in red, blue, and black, on the
nicest paper. No ticket in this grand scheme was less
than ten dollars. To some fifteen hundred of their agents,
//234.png
.pn +1
in as many different localities, they sent from three to five
of these tickets each, with a printed letter, but marked
"very confidential," setting forth the great advantages of
the new scheme, and suggesting that among these tickets
were doubtless many prizes, and the company did not expect
to reap much profits from the sale of tickets in this
scheme, but were anxious that its old customers should
reap the prizes, and so forth. Of course the company did
not expect that any agent would be able to sell all the
tickets sent him, even though so few, and were surprised
that many were disposed of before the time of the alleged
drawing. On the day of the "drawing," more than nine
tenths of the tickets still remained unsold, and unreported
upon in the hands of the agents. Having prepared written
letters in anticipation of the small sales, as a part of
the trick, they sent them forth to each agent. The letter
ran something like this, in substance:--

.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"<sc>Dear Sir</sc>: The drawing of the Grand C. U. Lottery
took place at Baltimore, at twelve M., yesterday. Please
to return us the tickets, Nos. --, --, --, --, --, now in
your hands, at once, without fail, and <i>buy back any, if you
can</i>, which you may have disposed of, and charge us, and
ask no questions, and we will send you certified copy of
drawing immediately on your reply.

.ll -8
.rj
"Yours, most respectfully,
.ll +8

.ll -2
.rj
"---- ----."
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

This being an unusual way of doing business, excited
the agent's suspicion. He reflected that probably some
one of the tickets he held had drawn a great prize, and that
the company meant to keep it, but he could not, of course,
guess which; and so as to secure the prize himself, he
would hold all the tickets, send on the money for them,
with an apology for not having reported earlier, and frequently
with a long lie about the trouble he had had, and
naming this or that man to whom the tickets had been
//235.png
.pn +1
sold. So hundreds of them sent in, after the day of the
alleged drawing, from thirty to fifty dollars apiece, according
to the number of tickets they held, and received by
return mail a "certified report" of the drawing, by which
they discovered that the tickets they held were all blanks,
each, perhaps, thinking that somebody else had drawn the
"mammoth prizes." This trick was fruitful to the amount
of a great many thousands of dollars, and cost the company
only its expenses for printing, stationery, and postage.
These same agents continued to act for the company,
and I presume that not one of them to this day
knows how he was taken in. But I trust that this narrative
will fall into the hands of many a one of them, and
open his eyes as to the fact of his having been made a
tool of by designing scamps to cheat his neighbors, and to
be cheated himself.

The mayor of New York was constantly besieged, and
I presume the same is the case now, with letters from all
parts of the country, complaining that these writers had
tried and tried their luck, time after time, in this or that
company, in vain, and asking him regarding the standing
of the company, and so forth. Sometimes a victim would
get his eyes open, conceive that he had possibly been
cheated; or, having had some rupture by correspondence
with the company, discovered that he was cheated, and
beg the mayor to take the matter in hand. On two or
three occasions, within my memory, the police have made
raids upon such companies as they could get at; but
usually matters were so secretly conducted, that it would
cost the police too much effort to get at anything decided,
especially without extra compensation for their labors;
and the frauds complained of in each case would generally
amount to not over ten dollars at most, and the complaints
usually, perhaps always, came from obscure men,
living at a great distance from New York, who could not
afford to come and attend to the matter themselves.

But the companies constantly had difficulty from one
//236.png
.pn +1
//237.png
.pn +1
//238.png
.pn +1
quarter of the land or another--enough so as to keep
them all the while on the alert. Their offices were in obscure
places. The members had business names which
differed from their real ones. Ostensibly, they carried on
a real estate business, for example, actually doing something
in that line for respectability's sake, and conducting
their lottery swindle in some secret room, having a box at
the post office, and sending for their letters a clerk, who
was instructed to deposit the letters in some secret place,
from which one of the firm would secretly take them.
Thus they managed. But one day "there came trouble
into the camp" of "G. W. Huntington & Co." They had
sold a ticket to a sturdy, and somewhat intelligent farmer
in or near Portland or Bangor, Maine. (I am unable to find
his address at this writing.) When the alleged drawing
took place, the company sent on its usual report to the
farmer, among the rest of their victims, saying, "You perceive
that your ticket has unfortunately drawn a blank.
We regret it," etc.

.pm illo i_236 i_236.jpg 700px "THE BOGUS LOTTERY OFFICE."

Now the farmer had "studied up" on the matter,
and he saw that if they had sent him what they called
the copy of the "certified report" of the drawing, he
had drawn a prize of five thousand dollars, instead of a
blank, and so he politely wrote the company about their
mistake. Correspondence ensued, in which the company
tried to convince the farmer that he was mistaken; but it
was of no use. The farmer was too keen for them, and
insisted on his rights. He consulted a lawyer in his place,
and the lawyer opened correspondence with the company,
hinting that legal measures would be taken. The company
put the matter into their lawyer's hands, and the two
attorneys fired away at each other, the company laughing
in their sleeves over the humbugging they were operating
on the Maine lawyer. Finally the farmer's lawyer wrote
on to say, that the farmer would go down to New York,
and institute proceedings there, unless the prize was
cashed within a week, and suggested that a suit would
//239.png
.pn +1
seriously injure the credit of the company. To this the
company, by its lawyer, made no reply.

The farmer came on, and proceeded to the "Banking-house
of G. W. Huntington & Co., 23 William Street."
He brought with him one of the company's papers, in
which was an engraving of the building, 23 William Street,
with the great sign of "G. W. Huntington & Co., Bankers,"
running across the whole face of the building, in large letters.
His astonishment can be guessed at when he failed
to find any such bankers, or any such sign there. There
was the building, correctly represented in the picture.
The rest was fiction, of course. The building, except
the lower story, which was the office of some brokers, I
believe, was occupied mainly as lawyers' offices, and it
chanced that the farmer, in his astonishment at not finding
"G. W. Huntington & Co." there, and being determined
to investigate the affair, and not be cheated out of
his five thousand-dollar prize, after coming all the way
from Maine, sought counsel at the office of one Mr.
Wheaton,--a great criminal lawyer, and the son of the distinguished
author of an extensive and valuable work, in
two volumes, on International Law and Practice. Mr.
Wheaton was the same gentleman who, a few years ago,
was run over by the Harlem train of cars, on its way out
of the city, and killed. He was a very gentlemanly man,
and heard the poor man's case; told him that the company
was undoubtedly bogus; but pitying the man, who was
really not well off in this world's goods, undertook to aid
him, and through the post office sent a very polite note
to the company touching the matter. The note was politely
responded to, and eventually, after three or four
days' delay, the company, securing a sharp and unscrupulous
lawyer, sent him to wait upon Mr. Wheaton. The
lawyer represented that he did not know the company's
place of business even, but was ready to treat for them;
that they would not pay a dollar, and that the whole trouble
arose from some mistake. But Mr. Wheaton would
//240.png
.pn +1
not settle without something being done; but at last, after
a few days, agreed to take thirty dollars, which would pay
for the farmer's travelling expenses to and from Maine.
How the poor fellow met the rest of his expenses, I was
never told; but he doubtless went back to Maine a
wiser, if not a better man. (Should this article chance to
fall under his eye, he can certainly do some of his neighbors
good by reading it to them, and "illustrating" it in
person, saying, "Gentlemen, <i>I</i> was the man! behold the
picture! and forever be wary of lottery agents.") I had
been called in to work up the case, but the settlement was
effected the next day, and it was dropped. Mr. Wheaton
had a conference with the mayor concerning it; and afterwards,
when, on several complaints being made against
the company, the mayor resolved to trace out the company,
and break up their nefarious business, he sent
for me.

Numerous efforts had, at times theretofore, been made
to hunt out these companies' dens. Officers had been
stationed inside the post office, and when a clerk--usually
a rusty, scampish-looking lad, or an old sinner of a man--came
for the letters, and he took them, he was tracked,
with the hope that he could be traced to the secret office.
But he was too wary for that,--had had too good instructions,--and
escaped; or, if next time he was arrested, after
having been traced along a <target id='tn240'>circuitous route, going into
this or that crowded store, or eating-house, it would be
found that he had already disposed of the letters, having
adroitly handed them to one of the "firm," perhaps, properly
stationed at some point for the purpose of receiving
them: or, if he was arrested at the post office with the letters
in hand, he was found to be an individual not easily
frightened, and when taken before the mayor, would declare
that he did not know the company, or the individuals
composing it; that some man, whose name he did not
know, had employed him at fifty cents or a dollar a time
to draw the letters with the box check or card. If the
//241.png
.pn +1
mayor took away the check, all the company had to do
was to write to the postmaster for another, alleging their
loss. Keeping this fellow under arrest for some length
of time did no good. The company readily found out
about the arrest, and would send some lawyer to act for
the clerk, and the result would be that he would be released
speedily, and go to drawing letters again. Attempts
had also been made to trace out the printers of the
papers sent out by these companies. So great were the
numbers of these at times that they seriously burdened
the mails. The postage expenses to the companies must
have been enormous; but advertising "tells," and if only
one paper in a hundred chanced to fall into the hands of
a man who would be allured thereby to invest in lottery
tickets, the business would pay. But after considerable
search for the printers, within the city, it was concluded
that the papers were printed somewhere else, and sent into
New York in bulk, and privately prepared for the mails.

This was the situation of things when I took hold of
the matter. I was advised of what had previously been
done, but was, of course, allowed to pursue my own method.
After a day or two's experimenting in following clerks
from the post office, and finally tracking one of them into
a lawyer's office on Nassau Street, and being coolly informed
by the lawyer that the company were his clients,
and having had some difficulty with disaffected parties,
had put their correspondence into his hands for a while,
I thought best to pursue another course. There was
little or no use in attempting to convict him of complicity
with the matter. He said he would take his oath that he
did not know whether the company was bogus or not, or
were really the agents of responsible companies in foreign
states; and as for that matter he did not care. He had been,
he said, employed by them to attend to certain legal matters
of theirs, and he never inquired into the private character
of his clients except when necessary. "They pay
me well for my services, generally advancing my fees, and
//242.png
.pn +1
I am satisfied." My own opinion was, and is, that he was
one of the firm himself, and as guilty as any of the rest,
but he was shrewd enough to not get trapped. I saw it
would cost more than it would come to to pursue that
line. If I arrested the letter clerks for a few days, and
took them before the mayor, that would not break up the
business. The company's plans were safely laid. When
I did get at them, I wanted to break them up effectually;
and I set myself about procuring copies of their papers,
which I did by writing from the mayor's office to the parties
who had sent in their complaints, asking them to forward
all documents and papers which they had received from
the company. Receiving these, I submitted them to various
wary and knowing printers, in order to find out at what
office in the city the printing was probably done. A printer
or newspaper man will ordinarily detect, by the size of column,
or some other peculiarity, from what paper a given
extract has been clipped, as readily as a tailor can tell
from whose shop a certain coat or pair of pantaloons came,
or as easily as a man can distinguish the handwriting of
his friends. But in this case I was baffled at first. Nobody
could give me any hint, till I finally came across a
printer then working in the Tribune office; and on looking
over some of the papers, he discovered something which
reminded him of the style of a certain paper in Norwich,
Connecticut; and then, as if a new light had dawned upon
him, suddenly exclaimed, "By George! I believe I have
it, for I know that at the ---- office, a year or two ago,
the boys used occasionally to do a great deal of extra
night work, and got extra pay. I never knew what 'twas."

In further conversation with him, I concluded that
there must be something in it, and in a day or two
posted off for Norwich, where I made the acquaintance
of a gentleman by the name of Sykes, then editor of the
"Advertiser" (I think that was the name of his paper),
and was soon put in possession of abundant facts for the then
present time. I learned that the papers for certain bogus
//243.png
.pn +1
lottery companies, to the extent of several hundred thousand
a month, were printed at a certain office there, and
mailed through the Norwich post office; that it was a
matter of considerable pecuniary profit to the post office
to have the mailing of these documents, and that certain
men of much social respectability in Norwich were engaged
in printing and mailing these papers, which they
well knew to be the circulars of bogus lottery companies;
but I could do nothing with them; and exposure of their
conduct in Mr. Sykes's paper was not likely to result in
much good. The lottery papers reached parties who
would not be apt to ever hear of the exposure; besides, to
make it was no part of my business on that occasion. I
found, to my satisfaction, that whereas "G. W. Huntington
& Co.'s Bulletin" had formerly been printed in Norwich,
and distributed from there over the country; that it
was now doubtless printed somewhere in New York, and
at Norwich I prepared my traps to find out certainly
where the papers were printed in New York, which fact
I finally accomplished after a little delay. Determining
about what time of the previous month the papers for the
next month's issue would be put to press, I made business
to the printing office, and gave the printers an order a little
difficult to fill, and which I knew would have to be delayed.
I also set a brother detective on their track with
a like affair, so that we could have proper excuse for visiting
the office occasionally. I managed to privately secure
(no matter how, for somebody yet living might not wish
me to tell) two or three copies of the paper then in process
of being struck off. The character of the printing
office was high, the members of the firm being all what
are styled "good fellows," not likely to be in complicity
with the lottery pirates, and I was not disposed to injure
the printers; but I was determined to learn what parties
gave them the orders for printing these papers. The
laws of New York are a little stringent upon this matter,
and I waited till I found out that a very large number of
//244.png
.pn +1
the papers were struck off and ready to be delivered. I
had learned that these were usually sent off out of the
office to somebody's care, but I did not propose to follow
up the parties as I had done the letter clerks; so one
morning, when all was right, I took a couple of regular
policemen along with me, and entered the printing office
on Spruce Street, and calling one of the proprietors into
the counting-room, advised him of my business, and the
law in the premises. He was taken aback; turned a little
pale; and protested that he had no suspicion that he was
engaged in an unlawful business; said they exercised no
secrecy in the printing, so far as attempting to cover up
any offence was concerned; but that the lottery company
had asked them to observe a degree of privacy in the
printing, on account of their competition with rival companies.

"But," said he, "I read a little law once in Ohio; thought
I would make a lawyer, but got sick of it; and I remember
that one of the first things my old instructor, in whose
office I read, taught me, was, 'Ignorance of the law excuseth
no man,' and we shall have to bear the brunt of it,
I fear. Besides, we have a bill of nearly a thousand dollars
against these fellows, and if you break them up, where
are we to get our pay?"

"Have they been good pay heretofore?"

"O, yes; we let one bill run on to over fifteen hundred
dollars. I felt a little skittish about it, but they paid it
all up, and gave us five hundred dollars in advance on the
next month's issue." I was convinced of the gentleman's
honesty. I had learned a good deal about him, and his
manner was that of an honest man. "Well," said I, "I'll
tell you what we'll do. You deliver these papers, but do
you let me know precisely where they are delivered;
tell me the true names of the parties who order them;
give me such 'copy' as they have sent in to be printed
from, so that I may be in possession of their manuscripts;
describe the personal appearance of each of them whom
//245.png
.pn +1
you know, in writing, and make a written statement over
your own signature of all your connection with them, and
I will wait till you get your pay from them, if you will stir
them up immediately, and promise to not do any more work
of this kind for them." The gentleman instantly replied,--

"That's fair. Of course we won't do any more such
printing if it is illegal: but some of these lottery men are
persons of great respectability in society, and I am astonished
to find they are engaged in such a nefarious business,
and I prefer to consult my partner" (a much older
man), "before I concede to your proposition. Let me
speak to him a minute, for there he is, and I will give you
my answer. I prefer that <i>he</i> shall take the responsibility."

The gentleman walked out to where his partner was engaged
in looking over some work, held a moment or two's
conversation with him, when they both came into the
counting-room, and the older gentleman heard from me my
story and my propositions, and answered at once. "Of
course we will accede to your propositions, and be much
obliged to you for giving such excellent terms."

The propositions were specifically complied with. The
printing-house got its pay for its work by refusing to deliver
it till paid for. As the lottery agents were in need
of the papers, and would lose a month's revenue for want
of them, they were obliged to yield, and pay up all arrearages,
threatening to take their printing elsewhere thereafter,
which had been considerable; but the printers kept
silent, and did not even let them know that they had discovered
they were pursuing an unlawful business. The
papers were duly delivered to the lottery men, and I kept
watch on their private den, concluding that I would not
disturb them till they had gone to the expense of wrapping
the papers, and paying the postage, which must have
been something enormous. Whole bushels at a time of
the papers went to the post office, and the rascals were
probably dreaming of the revenue which was to follow
that month's laudable labor. I was willing that they
//246.png
.pn +1
should do the government as much service as they pleased
in the way of sustaining the postal system, and inwardly
rather feasted on the "prospect." Their private den was
unoccupied during the night. Indeed, they usually left at
an early hour in the afternoon, save on great mailing days.

I hired desk room in a lawyer's office in the same
building, No. 5 Tryon Row, close by the courts of justice,
and within the immediate shadow of the City Hall,--not
an inappropriate locality for the bogus lottery scoundrels
after all; for the common council of New York holds
its sessions in the City Hall, and there, too, is the mayor's
office, and that office has sometimes been filled by as great
wretches as these lottery agents. Indeed, I call to mind
one mayor who made not a little of his large fortune in
the "policy business," i. e., in a scoundrelly, though, in a
measure, legalized lottery swindle. Matsell, the old chief
of police, had his rooms in the same building, and had he
been in office at the time, would have rejoiced to find these
"birds" making their nest so conveniently near him. Having
a desk in the lawyer's office, I was of course entitled
to spend my nights there, or as much of them as I pleased;
and being next door to the "Real Estate Office" (as a sign
on the door facetiously intimated), or, in other words, the
private office of "G. W. Huntington & Co.," I found the
"patent lock" on their door not at all in my way for making
observations. With a dark lantern I could select such
of their correspondence as I pleased, take it to my room,
and there, by a broad light, read it. I got possession in
this way of many astounding facts, and also procured
"specimens of the handwriting" of several of this honest
firm--notes written to the clerks, giving orders, etc. Some
of these I preserved for future use, but returned most of the
customers' correspondence. There were in their office numerous
large packages of "business" letters; letters from
agents and customers--(when we took possession we found
somewhere about twenty thousand letters, which were
only a part of what the company had received during their
//247.png
.pn +1
comparatively short existence. They had destroyed great
numbers, merely to rid themselves of the incumbrance.)
I got a pretty thorough understanding of the business,
and collected facts and names of customers for future witnesses,
etc., to put it quite out of the question for these
fellows to ever resume their business under their then
title, after they should be broken up; and, all things prepared,
kept watch so as to catch one of the proprietors
in the office at work. The "Real Estate" department, in
which nothing at all was done, was divided off from the
lottery den by a board partition, over the door of which
was a sign "Private Consulting Office." Leaving my assistants
at the door (and having sent an officer to an office
in 115 Nassau Street, to arrest another of the "proprietors"
there), I went in to see the gentleman on real estate
business; and was informed by the clerk that his principal
was in the consulting room, and would be out soon.
The clerk who had come out from the "consulting room"
as I went into the office, had closed the door (which was
evidently open before); and I remarked, that as I was in a
hurry, I'd step in and see the principal; and suiting the
action to the word, stepped to the door, when the clerk,--a
tall lad, of twenty years of age, perhaps,--brusquely
stepped up before the door, and said,--

"You cannot enter here--that's my orders."

.pm illo i_248 i_248.jpg 700px "SURPRISING THE BOGUS LOTTERY DEALERS."

I pushed him aside without saying a word, whistled, and
went in, and caught the principal with pen in hand at work
at a table, with a pile of correspondence before him, while
at the same time my two men at the door rushed in, and
I called to them to secure the clerk, and bring him into the
private room, which they did. I then stepped out of the
private room and locked the outside door, and returning,
informed the principal what I knew about him, and so terrified
him as to extort from him a full confession of his
connection with the business. He confessed that they
were thoroughly caught, and must be broken up; which
conviction was soon deepened, when one of my men answering
//248.png
.pn +1
//249.png
.pn +1
//250.png
.pn +1
a knock at the outside door, let in an officer, accompanied
by another of the principals. I took possession
of the contents of the office, made the parties deliver up
the mails for that day and the day before, (the money received
from which they still had on hand,) in order to
refund the money to the swindled parties; made them
give me money enough to pay for the requisite stationery
and postage, all of which I got from them on the spot; and
then took due proceedings against them legally, leaving
the office in charge of one of my men, till I could get
around to it and examine the correspondence, which was
in time to be destroyed. I made these fellows advance
me money, too, to pay for the rent of the office, on which
a month's rent was then due the lessor, and for another
month's rent. These fellows were men in high social position,
and they tried hard to bribe me into silence, and
made large and tempting offers, and promised also to quit
the business forever; but I reminded them that their very
offer was an offence against the law, and suggested that
they must not even repeat their bribes. There was a third
member of this honest firm, but the officer sent to arrest
him reported that he was out of town, to return next day;
and as we wanted him too, we took good care that his
friends should have no opportunity to communicate to him,
or anybody else that day. I never saw more "sore-headed"
chaps than they. The fear of exposition through the public
press, was a terrible one for them; and as it was compounding
no felony, and was no breach of law to agree to
not give the facts to the press, and to let these chaps be
brought before the proper officers and plead guilty, under
assumed names, when we should get to that point, I had
no hesitancy in accepting for myself and my men a pretty
large sum of money from them. It was true that the
money gave me some uneasiness, as I reflected that it had
probably been cheated out of poor victims, although the
rascals asserted that they had not made much in that way.
But their correspondence showed that they had. The
//251.png
.pn +1
third man was arrested next day, and kept apart from the
other two. He was taken before the mayor under his assumed
name, and there made a pitiful confession, disclosing
more than his <i>confreres</i> had done. He was the "scion of
a distinguished house," was younger than the rest, and
had been inveigled into the matter by the ambition to be
independent of his father, and make money for himself;
and having been bred to no legitimate business, easily fell
into this in connection with his cousin, one of the other
principals. The third party is now dead. He "reformed,"
and went into a legitimate business. Some of the steps
we had taken with these fellows, were rather bold ones,
hardly within purview of the law; and the mayor, satisfied
with the thorough work which had been done,--we having
captured all their correspondence, their elaborately-kept
journals, containing corrected lists of all their agents,
together, with quite a large library of city and business directories,
and a countless quantity of business cards, which
had afforded them names to which to direct their papers,
and schedules of "drawings to be held," etc., etc., the
mayor conceived that we had so effectually crippled them,
that they could not, seeking a new office, go on with
their business; and as all he wished to do was to break
them up, he concluded to let them go, on their promise
to not reënter upon the business; and turned to me, and
asked if I did not agree with him. I said, "Yes; but I
think there is one thing more which these men owe to the
public, through their victims. They have apparently a
plenty of money, and we have their register of correspondence.
My proposition is, that we draw up a circular to
be sent to all their victims, stating that the firm is broken
up, and warning the customers of the fraudulent character
of this and all other such concerns, get a few thousand of
the circulars printed, and mail them to each man on their
books, and make them bear the expense of printing, enveloping,
clerk hire and postage, and pay the clerks liberally
//252.png
.pn +1
for their work. They ought to do this, to undo the
wrong they have done, as far as they can."

"Yes, yes, gentlemen, I like that proposition. What do
you say to it?" said the mayor.

They were deathly silent for a moment; looked askance
at each other (for at this session we had all the three present);
but one broke the silence--

"It will be a pretty big bill. I told you the truth when
I said we are poor; as for myself, I am worth next to
nothing."

The mayor looked at me inquiringly, and probably saw
something in my face which was as expressive as if I had
said, "Bosh! they are perfectly able;" so he said, "Gentlemen,
I shall insist on the condition;" and turning to me,
he added, "make out a liberal estimate, and hold these men
under arrest till you get the sum advanced. Mind! I say
advanced! don't trust them for a minute."

The firm, seeing that it was of no use to quibble, agreed
to meet the emergency that day; and I, having in the
course of two hours found out how much it would cost to
print twenty thousand circulars, and for clerk hire for two
months, for two clerks, with postage added, at two cents a
circular, agreed to accept eight hundred dollars,--a pretty
liberal sum, for I was not disposed to oppress myself for
want of means, on account of any foolish pity for these
chaps. The amount was forthcoming, and the scamps were
released.

I at once drew up a circular in these words. By the
way, I had secured their engraving of the building, No.
23 William Street, with which the circular was headed:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4

.ll -2
.rj
"<sc>Mayor's Office, New York</sc>.
.ll +2

"<sc>Dear Sir</sc>: This is to inform you that the great 'Banking
House of G. W. Huntington & Co.,'--the above picture
of which you have doubtless seen before,--has 'suspended
operations' having fallen into the hands of the
police. This house was a bogus lottery concern, which
//253.png
.pn +1
conducted its stealthy business in an obscure den, while
pretending to occupy the building above represented, by
the picture of which they more readily enticed their
country customers to 'invest' in their shrewdly-devised
schemes. If in dealing with them you ever secured a
prize, it was only given to entice you into larger ventures.
Beware of all such companies in the future. The mayor
directs me to advise you that there are no legitimate lottery
companies or agencies in the city of New York. None
are allowed by law to do business here. All of them are
bogus and fraudulent. His honor the mayor further suggests
that you may, perhaps, do your unwary neighbors a
service, by showing them, if you please, this circular,--or
by at least informing them that all such companies and
agencies in New York are fraudulent in their character.
The mayor receives hundreds of complaints during the
course of a year from the victims of these companies, or
'agencies,' and a list of all those to whom this circular is
sent, is kept, and no notice of the complaint of any one of
these will hereafter be taken. The mayor trusts that you,
sir, will not only escape being imposed upon by these bogus
lottery sharpers hereafter, but will so warn and instruct
all your friends that they, too, will escape being victimized.

.ll -10
.rj
Respectfully yours,
.ll +10

.ll -8
.rj
"---- ----,
.ll +8

.ll -2
.rj
"Mayor's Special Clerk."
.ll +2

.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

About eighteen thousand of these circulars were duly
mailed to the addresses found in the captured books, and
the books themselves were duly deposited for further
reference. It would seem that this warning, scattered as
it was into more than half the towns in the Union, ought
to have lessened the number of victims to these swindling
concerns; but I have been informed that some of them are
in full blast to-day, and that all along, since the arrest of
"G. W. Huntington & Co.," other concerns carried on
heavy operations. Everybody, almost, it would seem,
//254.png
.pn +1
<i>must</i> have personal experience; will <i>not</i>, for some reason,
profit by the experience and advice of others who have
suffered--been bitten by sharpers. But I trust that this
article will be heeded by all who read it. Perhaps it is a
sufficiently clear exposition of the way these rascals proceeded,
to make it evident that there is no trusting the
pretences of any of them. Sure it is that there are at
least five hundred thousand people in the land, who, if
they were to read this exposition, could reflect that it
must be, as it is, literally true, entirely unembellished by
imagination to the extent of even a word, and that, too,
from their own experiences; and they can now understand
the <i>modus operandi</i> by which they were swindled.

All "gift enterprises," so common in New York, and
other places, to-day, partake in their nature of these bogus
lottery operations, and no man is safe who trusts a
single one of them. He will be swindled in the end, in
some way.

I could not well allow myself to cut this article short at
this point, although my tale is, properly speaking, finished,
and my contract under this head, with my publishers, fulfilled.
There is something so marvellous in the human
heart in the way of its disposition to adventure in order
to make money easily; such a wonderful credulity in the
minds of large numbers of people, and a willingness to
fasten in trust upon the merest shadow of success, that
perhaps these fraudulent concerns will never lack victims.
But in studying the correspondence which fell into my
hands,--over twenty thousand letters,--and with which I
beguiled many hours during the six months in which I
kept them, before burning them, I became apprised of
the fact that the great majority of the "customers" of
these concerns are illiterate; most of their letters being
misspelled; that great numbers of them were young
men, boys, and poor women; nearly all evidently mechanics,
and from some of the States, such as Pennsylvania,
many farmers. (Pennsylvania, by the way, furnishes more
//255.png
.pn +1
victims to petty frauds, I learned, than several other States
which I might name, taken together.) She has a large
number of citizens who are barely able to read and write
poorly, and who probably do not read the public journals
extensively, and are, therefore, not likely to be well informed
of the current iniquities of the time. I seriously
meditated, after having studied the "G. W. Huntington &
Co." correspondence, the writing of a book on the matter
of Swindling, in general; and this correspondence
would have afforded me many pathetic things for comment.
While looking over that correspondence, the tears often
came irresistibly to my eyes. I recollect the letter of a
boy writing from Easton, Penn., I think it was. He had,
it appeared from his letter, sent many dollars to the company
for tickets, a dollar at a time, and winning nothing
from his ventures, was getting discouraged. He wrote an
imploring letter at last, accompanied by a dollar, in which
he begged the company to choose him a winning number.
He told them it was his last dollar; (he was but sixteen
years old, he said); that he should not be able to send
again, if he failed this time, for he had to give every cent
he could earn; (I forget what he said he worked at, but he
named the business and the pitiable wages he got); that
his father was a dreadful drunkard; one of his little sisters
was "sick all the while;" another had broken her
leg two months before, and the doctors thought she might
have to lose it, and so on, a pitiable tale--a tale to stir the
hardest heart, and written in that style which stamped it
as undoubtedly true. At the bottom of this letter was a
note for the clerk, in the handwriting of one of the firm.
"Write to" (somebody, I forget his name, of course), "at
Easton, and learn if this story is true; and if it is, let the
boy draw five dollars in Scheme No." (so and so.) There
was a note dated some days after, below this in the clerk's
hand. "Letter received from Easton; story true; ticket
issued." <i>Probably</i> that boy re-invested the whole five
dollars. Drawing the money, his hope would naturally be
//256.png
.pn +1
excited; and now that he could buy a ticket in a larger
"drawing," he probably sent the five dollars back, and lost
them of course.

Widows, with large families, and who wrote most mournful
stories, sending on every cent they could save (while
half-starving their families in order to do so, probably),
were among the number of correspondents. Clergymen
of poor parishes sent for tickets, with long letters, in which
they commented piously upon the matter of hazard and lotteries,
in a manner to excuse themselves for sending, and
hoping that they should draw something to help them out
of their poverty and misery, and expressing their belief that
"God would pardon them if they were doing wrong,"
were also of the number. Many letters were of a comical
nature, the writers half-laughing at themselves for doing so
foolish a thing as buying tickets in a lottery; but yet unable
to resist the temptation. By some of the letters it was
evident to me that the writers told abominable lies about
their sufferings and trials, in order to excite the sympathy
of the "agents," and induce them to use their best efforts
to secure for them winning tickets. Some of the correspondents
offered to give the "agents" half their prize
money, in order to bribe them to select a successful ticket.
Some of them sent counterfeit money. I found such notes
as this at bottom of several letters, "One dollar counterfeit,
two dollars good. Send tickets in Scheme No. 8." "Counterfeit;
send back." These were evidently directions to
clerks. If the writing in these letters which contained
only counterfeit money had been good, I might have suspected
the writers of perpetrating an appropriate joke;
but the letters were evidently from ignorant people, some
of whom, perhaps, knew that the bills they sent were
counterfeit, and hoped that the great banking company,
in their vast press of business, would fail to detect the bills.
Many of the letters were written in excellent mercantile
hand; but I noticed some badge of ignorance about all
these, as well as about the poorly-written and misspelled
//257.png
.pn +1
ones. Probably ninety-nine in a hundred of the victims
were made such through their ignorance of the world and
the wicked men in it.

"Knowledge is power;" not only a power to execute,
but a power for salvation; and when her light shall be
sufficiently diffused, all such crafts <i>as these bogus lottery
swindlers</i> will "have had their day," and not before. I
doubt somewhat that if all the newspapers of the land
should, on some given week, publish each a full <i>exposé</i> of
these swindles, and repeat the same every week, for a month,
the majority of the victims would be saved. Many would;
but some with their eyes opened, as far as facts could
open them, would still be duped. The investigation of
this bogus lottery business did more to weaken my respect
for the good sense of my fellow-men in general, than had
all the experiences of my life theretofore. But I find I
am tempted on beyond the limits I had set for myself in
this article. The subject is an interesting one to me, and
I may return to it at another time, and to some of its
phases not here commented upon.
//258.png
.pn +1


.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=borroweddiamond
THE BORROWED DIAMOND RING.
.hr 20%
.sp 1

.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
THE DETECTIVE OFFICER'S CHIEF "INCUBUS"--AT WINTER GARDEN THEATRE--"HARRY
DUBOIS"--AN EXPERT ROGUE EXAMINES HIS PROSPECTIVE
VICTIMS--SOME SOUTHERNERS--HARRY "INTRODUCES" HIMSELF
IN HIS OWN PECULIAR AND ADROIT WAY--HARRY AND HIS FRIEND
ARE INVITED TO THE SOUTHERNERS' PRIVATE BOX--HARRY "BORROWS"
MR. CLEMENS' DIAMOND RING, AND ADROITLY ESCAPES--MY
DILEMMA--VISIT TO HARRY'S OLD BOARDING MISTRESS--HIS WHEREABOUTS
DISCOVERED--ACTIVE WORK--A RAPID DRIVE TO PINE STREET--A
FORTUNATE LIGHT IN THE OFFICE OF THE LATE HON. SIMEON DRAPER--A
SUDDEN VISIT FOR A "SICK MAN" TO HARRY'S ROOM--HOW ENTRANCE
WAS EFFECTED--THE RING SECURED--HUNT FOR MR. CLEMENS--A
SLIGHTLY MYSTERIOUS LETTER--A HAPPY INTERVIEW.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>Just</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
Just
.if-
before the late war broke out, and the Winter
Garden Theatre being in its prime, my friend, Henry C. P.,
of New Haven, Conn., being in town, urged me to accompany
him there one night to see the play. The house
was quite crowded with a more than usually fashionable
set of play-goers, many being from different parts of the
land, visitors for a time in New York. No matter where
I go, to theatre, court, or church, along Broadway crowded
with its vast moving tides of humanity, or through the
streets of some half-deserted hamlet, my mind is ever on
my business; rather, ever pondering on the craft and
crime of society, symbols of which, in more or less emphatic
shape, I am ever liable to see. It is one of the greatest
vexations which the detective suffers, that the nature
of his business is such that he can never fully liberate his
thoughts from dwelling upon the frailties, the follies, and
particularly the crimes, petty and felonious, of which so
many of his fellow-men are constantly being guilty. Like
//259.png
.pn +1
an incubus of dread and darkness, these thoughts are ever
weighing on his mind. He has no peace; and the only
approximate peace he can win, is to let his thoughts drift
on in the usual current, without attempting to direct
them by his will. Consequently, that night, though for a
while I enjoyed the play, studying its representations of
human nature with some delight, and being not a little
pleased with the beauty of sundry of the female <i>dramatis
personæ</i>, who were rather above the average in personal
graces, my eye was wandering over the parquet, family
circle, etc., considerably. Hearing a slight noise in a part
of the gallery, I observed that three young men, probably
having a "prior engagement" to fill somewhere, were
leaving the theatre,--a thing of no moment in itself, and
which I should have forgotten on the instant, only that
the vacancy they left enabled me to cast my eye a little
farther on, when I discovered a character of much interest
to me--a man elegantly apparelled, and having every
outward semblance of a gentleman. At the moment my
eye first rested on him there, he was peering into one of
the boxes, and I saw him soon in the act of whispering
some mystery, apparently, into the ear of the comrade who
sat by his side. The latter person I did not know; but
knowing the company he was in, I divined that some mischief
was up, for the former person was no other than a
man whom, in my detective career, I had several times
encountered--an elegant, scheming fellow, who sometimes
operated on Wall Street, kept an office at 34 Pine Street,
as a real estate broker and money lender, etc., though he
was seldom there, and was as skilful a juggler and pickpocket
as any of whom New York could at that time
boast. I could not, from my then position, well see into
the boxes, so I changed my seat--through the courtesy of
an old friend, who gave me his in exchange for mine--to
a point where I could watch the boxes and the two elegant
gentlemen, of whom I have spoken, without the latter's
knowing the fact. As I have intimated, the season was
//260.png
.pn +1
gay. In one of the boxes sat two gentlemen and two
ladies, the former evidently Southerners I judged, and so
I thought the ladies to be also. They were quite richly
dressed, and "sported" a large amount of richest jewelry.
I was not at a loss, as soon as I had enjoyed a good view
of them, as to the nature of the special concern which they
had evidently awakened in the minds of the two worthies
whom I was watching. I felt very sure that some plan
was being devised by the latter two to make the acquaintance
of the gentlemen, and, perhaps, the ladies in the box,
with an eye to relieving them of some of their jewelry
or money.

"Harry Dubois" was one of the aliases of the elegant
rogue; his friend's name I knew not, and have never
learned it. I was not surprised then, when, after a little
polite leave-taking at the end of an act, and the gentlemen
left their ladies in the box, to see Harry and friend leave
their seats, and saunter out. Divining that the gentlemen
had gone into the refreshment-room, I followed, disguising
myself as I went out, by the assumption of a pair of spectacle
bows, to which was attached a false nose quite unlike
my own, in order that Harry might by no means discover
me. I arrived in the refreshment-room, and had selected
out my friends of the box before Harry and his friend, or
"pal," came in. I had prepared my mind to expect some
peculiarly stealthy, circumlocutory proceeding upon the
part of Harry. Perhaps he would come only to "watch and
wait" still longer; perhaps he would find there somebody,
also, who knew the gentlemen of the box, and get a formal
introduction. Indeed, I had conceived a half dozen modes
of operation on his part, when, to my astonishment, Harry,
having first cast a searching glance over the room, and
giving his "pal" a knowing touch on the elbow, rushed,
with all smiles upon his face, up to the apparently elder
of the gentlemen of the box, who were at this moment
lifting glasses of wine to their lips, and exclaimed, "Pardon
me, Mr. Le Franc; but how <i>do</i> you do? I am
//261.png
.pn +1
exceedingly glad to see you! How long have you been
on from New Orleans, my dear sir?"

The gentleman addressed looked with astonishment upon
the elegantly attired Harry, whose face was the symbol of
the frankest honesty and most certain refinement, and evidently
"taken" by Harry's manner, replied, "My dear sir,
there's a mistake here, for my name is not Le Franc; and
truly, sir, I can never have known you, for I surely do not
now, and if I had I should never have forgotten you."

"Upon my honor," said Harry, <target id='tn261'>"I thought you were a
Mr. Le Franc, of New Orleans. You look just like him,
with whom, and others, I went on an excursion up to Donaldsonville,
three years ago, at the invitation and expense
of Bob McDonald."

"Bob McDonald? Why, he's my cousin, sir. If you
know him, give me your hand. My name, sir, is William
Hale, of Savannah, and this is my cousin, Mr. Clemens, of
Mobile" (turning to his friend), "Mr. ---- Ah! excuse
me, but you have not given me your name, sir, I forgot."

Fully pleased, Harry pulled out a card case from his
vest pocket, and presented to Mr. Hale a neat card, inscribed:--



.if h
.li
<p style="font-size:1.10em;text-align:center;font-family:sans-serif;"><b>HENRY CLARKSON DUBOIS</b>,</p>
.li-
.if-

.if t
                      <b>HENRY CLARKSON DUBOIS</b>
.if-
.fs 100%

.nf c
<sc>Attorney at Law</sc>.

<i>Specialty--Dealing in Real Estate, Effecting Loans, and
Securing Advances on Cotton.</i>
.nf-

.fs 90%
.ll -4
.rj
Office, 34 Pine Street, N. Y. City.
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

"Pardon me that I give you my business card; I find
I have no other about me."

"Ah, Mr. Dubois! I am sure I am very glad to know
you as Bob McDonald's friend. Tell me when you last
saw him. How was he? Jolly fellow--isn't he? Take
some wine with us? and your friend, too; he'll join us?"
//262.png
.pn +1

Harry was nothing loth to accept the wine. He was
making splendid progress, he doubtless thought; and joining
in the wine, he said, "You asked when I last saw
Bob. Well, when he was here in New York, three months
ago, on his way to Hamilton, Canada, he was my guest for
a week, at the Metropolitan, where I board."

"Just so," said Mr. Hale. "Bob wrote us at that time
from Canada. I am sorry I did not go on there when he
was there. He was well as usual then, I suppose, and just
as full of the 'Old McDonald'" (for his father was a great
old sport) "as ever, eh?"

I saw that Harry was making smooth inroad into the
affections of these gentlemen, and wondered what would
be the result. Mr. Hale treated to cigars. Harry refused,
saying, that with permission he would smoke a
cigarette,--pulling a box from his pocket,--commented
on the habit which he had learned in Cuba, when he was attached,
as he said, to the United States legation there, and
quite took the Savannah gentleman aback with his delicate
manipulation of the dainty cigarette. Harry's mastery of
good manners seemed to completely win the Southern
gentlemen, and Harry's friend too, though less elegant
than he, was no "slouch" of a fellow in appearance.

The next act of the play had begun before the gentlemen
had finished their cigars and chat, and Mr. Hale said
to his friend Clemens, "Wouldn't Mary be delighted to
meet so intimate a friend of her cousin Bob? Mr. Dubois,
I spoke of McDonald as my cousin; so he is by marriage;
but he is cousin by blood to my wife, and she likes him
above all her kin. Wouldn't you and your friend do us
the honor to accompany us to our box, where our wives
now are?"

"With the greatest pleasure," said Harry, suiting the
action to the word, and away they started for the box. I
lost no time in getting back to my seat, on the way depositing
my spectacles and false nose in a side pocket.

From what I afterwards learned from Mr. Hale, he
//263.png
.pn +1
delightedly presented Harry to his wife, as an intimate
friend of her cousin Bob; and it was evident to me that
Harry was making as sure victory of the esteem of Mrs.
Hale, and the other lady, Mrs. Clemens, as he had of their
husbands. He laughed and chatted with the ladies to their
evident delight. They could not have heard much of the
second act, so busily were they engaged with him--gentlemen
and ladies both. I noticed that Harry was not
lacking, on that occasion, in a good degree of effrontery,
mingled with his polite manners, which fact was assurance
to me that he had formed some plan of operations already,
but what it would be I could not conjecture. I saw more
or less display of jewelry, Harry taking a splendid solitaire
diamond from his finger, and evidently telling some story
about it. But eventually, as the act was drawing to a
close, I discovered that Mr. Clemens had taken from his
finger a very costly ring, which, as the sequel proved, he
had bought at Anthony's the day before, for fifteen hundred
dollars, to take as a present to his brother, then
studying medicine in Harvard College, whither Mr. Clemens
and his lady were about going. All was very jubilant
in the box as the act drew to a close, and there was
a clatter in the box--the gentlemen laughing, and the
ladies shaking their fans at them, as if half menacingly
forbidding them to go out, evidently begging them to
stay, and so forth. But Harry, according to the story I
learned afterwards, kindly assured the ladies that he
would return with his new "charge" all duly and "soundly,"
which the ladies interpreted to mean soberly, and
they let them go.

Harry left the box, the last of the gentlemen, and as he
did so, foolishly waved his hand in parting, at the ladies;
and the mystery was at once unravelled to me, for on his
finger was what I took to be, knew to be, that new, flashing
ring of Mr. Clemens.

I hastened to the refreshment-room. I saw at once the
flush of victory on Harry's face, and watched him intently.
//264.png
.pn +1

He was very brilliant in conversation, and very generous;
insisted on "treating" all the while himself. Wouldn't
allow Mr. Hale or his friend to call for anything, etc.

The time for the next act coming on, the gentlemen, not
a little "warmed up" with the numerous glasses of wine
they had taken, returned to their box, and I to my place,
replacing my spectacles in my side pocket.

I had been a little delayed in getting back to my place
by a crowd gathered around a lady who had fainted, and
when I resumed my seat, and looked into the box, what
was my astonishment at not finding Harry there. I saw
that Mrs. Clemens was very serious about something,
while the rest seemed very much excited; meanwhile,
Harry's friend seemed engaged in some sort of wonder-looking
protestations, for he <i>looked</i> astonished, and was
putting one hand very emphatically upon the palm of the
other. The whole thing flashed upon me. I saw that
there was no time to lose; and I left my seat, and proceeded
directly to the refreshment-room, in time to find
Mr. Hale and his friend there, eagerly inquiring of the
bar-keeper if "Mr. Dubois" had returned there; if he had
seen him since they went up last time to the box, and
sundry other hurried queries. The bar-keeper had not
seen him; no clew could they get to him; and Mr. Hale
said, "Clemens, you are 'done for,' sure. That's one of
those arch scamps we read of. He's borrowed that ring,
and we'll never see it again."

"Let's find a policeman, and put him on the track," said
Clemens.

"Foolishness," said Mr. Hale; "no policeman can track
that fellow. He's too keen; besides, who knows but he'll
take the train for Philadelphia or somewhere. I don't believe
he lives here. Here's his card, to be sure, but who
knows that it's not a fraud? Let's hunt the directory,"
and the bar-keeper brought forward the desired directory.
No "Harry Clarkson Dubois" was to be found in it. The
gentlemen looked confounded and dejected, and Hale said,
//265.png
.pn +1
"Well, Clemens, let's go back to the ladies. They've more
wit than we. You know what your wife said. If we'd
taken her advice perhaps we should have got out from here
in time to catch the villain," and so they sauntered back.

I did not feel like making myself known to them. They
might take me, perhaps, as Harry's coöperator, and so I
silently watched them leave. Turning the matter over in
my mind a moment, I resolved upon the best course to
pursue. Harry must be come upon that night if I were
to succeed with him, I saw. I had known his lodging-room
three months before, but had heard he had changed
quarters; where to hunt him was the point. I bethought
me of a boarding-house keeper in West 13th Street, with
whom Harry once boarded, and who, not knowing his real
character, had great respect for him, and whom, too, Harry
evidently really respected, for I had been told that he always
spoke of her in terms of admiration. I fancied she
would be as apt as any one to know where were his quarters,
and I took a carriage, and drove immediately to her
house. Fortunately she was at home; and on inquiring
of her if she could tell me where I could find Mr. Dubois
the next morning, for I did not let her know my haste,
she said that she guessed I'd be most apt to find him in
his office in Pine Street, No. 34; that he had applied to
her for board two days before, with which she could not
accommodate him for a week or so to come; so he said he
would sleep on a lounge in his office, and take his meals
out till she could give him quarters, and that the day before
he sent up for blankets, with which she had supplied
him.

My plan was complete. Hurrying away from her house,
I ordered the driver to push straight for my rooms, where,
arming myself completely, I drove on as far as the post
office, when, ordering the driver to await my return, I
alighted, and proceeded to 34 Pine Street. As it chanced,
next door was the office of my friend, the late Simeon
Draper, and I was not a little pleased to find a light there,
//266.png
.pn +1
//267.png
.pn +1
//268.png
.pn +1
and one of his clerks and another man looking over some
papers, as I saw through the window. Tapping on the
door, it was readily unlocked, and I said to the clerk, who
recognized me, "No questions asked; but let <i>me</i> inquire
if you are going to be here for fifteen minutes longer?"

.pm illo i_266 i_266.jpg 700px "RECOVERING THE DIAMOND RING."

"Yes, for an hour, perhaps."

"Well, I may call again."

"Do so--are you after a 'bird'?" asked the clerk, with
a knowing wink in his eye; for he very quickly divined
that I was on some detective mission; for Mr. Draper had
been a frequent patron of mine, and often sent this clerk
to me on business.

I closed the door, and ran up two flights of stairs to
"Dubois's" room, and immediately rapped upon the
door.

No noise within--all silence! Had the bird flown?
I thought not. I believed he was there. Again I rapped.

"Who's there?" asked a half-sleepy voice.

I replied, "O! you're asleep, Mr. Dubois--are you?
Well, no matter. It's a case of exigency. I knew you
were here; saw you as you came in; and there's a man
fainted away in Draper's office, and I'm alone with him,
and want you, if you will, to watch him while I run for a
doctor. Don't mind to dress yourself more than half--come
quickly," and I started away rapidly down stairs, and returned
as rapidly, and rapping on the door again, exclaimed,
"Get ready, and run down as quick as you can, while I go
for a doctor. The door's unlocked; but see here, he may
revive, and want some stimulus. Here's the key to the
back closet. There's a bottle of brandy there. Here,
take it."

The unsuspicious Harry opened the door slightly to take
the key, when I pushed in. On his finger gleamed that
very ring. He was but half dressed, coat off, a muscular
fellow, and just in trim for fighting. I saw the situation,
and pulling out a pistol, clapped it to his face, and extending
my left hand, said, "It's no use, Harry; give me Mr.
//269.png
.pn +1
Clemens' ring without any noise, or I'll call the officers at
the door below."

Harry was never before so confounded; protested he had
no ring but his own.

<target id='tn269'>"We'll see," said I. "Mr. Hale will be here in a moment.
If he comes, it's all day with you. He can identify
the ring, and--so--can--I. Give it to me at once!" I
exclaimed, with a stern voice.

Harry saw that I knew all about it, and yielded, begging
me to not expose him. I assured him I had no care to
do so; but should exact of him the expenses I had incurred
for the carriage, which, at that time of night, would be
about fifteen dollars; which he quickly took from out a
large sized roll of bills from his inner vest pocket. The
gas he had lighted when he rose to dress, was turned on
at full head, and gleamed like a spectre through the room.
I examined the money to see that it was not counterfeit,
put it in my pocket, and bade Harry "good night," telling
him I guessed the man in Draper's had recovered by this
time, and that he needn't trouble himself to go down.

I drove to my rooms, paid the driver, and having deposited
the ring in my little safe, went to bed, and pondered
on the next step--the finding of Mr. Clemens next
day. I arose rather early next morning, and went in
search. I expected to find him and his friends at some
of the prominent hotels; but they were not there to be
found, but had left the St. Nicholas some three days before,
and where gone nobody knew. But the coachman
would know where he took them. After waiting hours to
find the coachman, I at last learned that they had all gone
to a house in Madison Square, to which I proceeded, and
found it the private residence of one of our prominent
citizens. The parties, therefore, were evidently of the
<i>elite</i>, and were to be approached delicately. Perhaps they
hadn't told their friends of their loss, and from pride might
not want it known. How should I proceed? Well, I
rung the bell, and inquired of the servant if a Mr. Clemens
//270.png
.pn +1
was stopping there; and learned that he was, but that he
and his wife had gone out, and would not be back till evening.
"Was a Mr. Hale there?" "Yes; but he, too, and his
wife have gone with Mr. and Mrs. Clemens." I didn't want
the ring about me. I had pressing work to do that day
and that evening; in fact, I hardly knew whether I should
have time to call that evening or not. So I asked the
servant if he could provide me envelope and paper, for I
would leave a note for my friends. I was ushered into
the library, and given the due materials; and addressing
a note to Mr. Hale, which ran much as follows:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"<sc>Sir</sc>: I have not the pleasure of your personal acquaintance,
but the fact that I am the <i>true</i> friend of your cousin,
Mr. Robert McDonald, of New Orleans, will be all the assurance,
I presume, that you will want of my being entitled
to an audience with you. I have called to see you
upon interesting and important business, and finding that
you are not to return till evening, I beg to ask you to expect
me at half past eight o'clock. Do not, if you please,
by any means fail to be at home. I would also be pleased
to meet Mr. Clemens; and I trust you will not consider me
impertinent (and you will not when you come to learn my
errand), if I ask also to meet Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Clemens
at the same time.

"I would prefer to meet none of the family residing here,
but yourselves alone.

.ll -8
.rj
"Yours, very respectfully,
.ll +8


.ll -2
.rj
"---- ----."
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

I hurried through my business for the remainder of the
day, and a little before half past eight was duly at the
house on Madison Square.

Being admitted, I called for Mr. Hale. He came to see
me in the hall; looked at me mysteriously; was very civil
and polite, but coldly so. I said, "I left a note here to-day
for you."
//271.png
.pn +1

"Yes, sir, I received a curious note, and don't know
what to make of it. Please explain your business. We
are strangers, and you will excuse me that I am always
cautious with strangers, whoever they may be."

He had evidently taken the lesson of the night before
to heart.

"But," asked I, "are Mr. and Mrs. Clemens ready to
receive me, as I requested in my note?"

"Yes, and Mrs. Hale too."

"Can I see them all immediately, for I've but little time
to spare?"

"Yes, sir," said he, quite rigidly; "follow me, sir."

I followed him to a small side parlor, where sat Mr.
Clemens and the two ladies.

"This is the gentleman who left the note here to-day,
and says he knows Bob McDonald," said Mr. Hale, as he
bowed me to a chair, and cast a furtive glance at his
friends as he spoke McDonald's name.

"Pardon me, sir," I broke in. "I did not say that I
<i>knew</i> Mr. McDonald, but that I was a 'true friend' of him,
as you'll observe on looking at the note, if you have it,
and as I guess I shall prove."

"O, then you don't know my cousin, Mr. McDonald?"
asked Mrs. Hale. "I am glad you do not, sir, for I was
beginning to fear you if you did. We've seen one of cousin's
friends here of late to our regret."

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," said I, "I'll make my
story short. You have, indeed, had occasion to regret
meeting one of Mr. McDonald's pretended friends. Perhaps
he does know him too, personally. But I do not; and
I am a 'true friend' to Mr. McDonald, in that I would
serve his friends as he would desire to have me, if he
knew your late loss."

There were glances from the eyes of each into those of
the others--a momentary silence and wonder-looking--when
Mrs. Clemens tremulously exclaimed, "Why, sir, do
you know all about it? Have you found the ring?"
//272.png
.pn +1

"Foolish woman!" said Mr. Clemens. "How do you suppose
anybody could find what wasn't lost--only stolen?"

"But I have something here for you, sir," said I, as I
took the ring from my pocket, and held it up in the light.

"The same!" "That's it!" "Where did you get it?"
"Did he lose it, and you find it?" "How glad I am!" etc.,
burst from their excited lips.

"Be calm, and I'll tell you all about it," said I; and taking
their seats, for all had risen to their feet, they listened attentively
to my story. I told them my business; how I
came to notice them; all that I did--all except what transpired
in Pine Street, making a short tale of that.

I had handed the ring, as I commenced my story, to Mr.
Clemens, who placed it upon a book lying on the table,
where it lay throughout our discourse, which was carried
on for nearly an hour. Near the conclusion, Mr. Clemens
said, "But after all this I do not feel that the ring is yet
justly mine. You have earned a part of it, at least, and I
wish you to tell me how much I shall pay you for your
trouble. I should have lost the ring wholly but for you,
and I am willing to pay you half its value, seven hundred
and fifty dollars."

"O, no," said I, "I could not for a moment consent to
take so much. In fact, I would have no right to."

"Well, name the price."

"If you give me fifty dollars I shall be satisfied."

"No such paltry sum, sir," said the generous Southerner.
"You shall take double, yes, four times that, at least."

"Yes," said Mr. Hale, "and I'll gladly pay half of it, or
the whole of it, or double it, and make it four hundred."

But I insisted upon only one hundred; and paying me
that, Mr. Clemens restored the ring to his finger, saying,
"The next time I allow a stranger, no matter whose friend
he is, to trifle with my property, I shall <i>know</i> it, I reckon.
It's been a good lesson, cheaply bought, for me."

Business over, these cheerful people insisted upon entertaining
me till a late hour, and I recited to them some
//273.png
.pn +1
quaint instances in the detective's life; but they could
not but think that their adventure in New York had been
the most remarkable of all.

I dare say that the lesson they learned that night will
serve them through life; and although their loss was so
stupidly occasioned that I presume they keep it secret
as to themselves, I've no doubt they sometimes tell it, in
the third person, as a warning to their friends who may be
"going abroad, travelling."

It is a trite saying, that "'tis not all gold that glitters."
Everybody has heard it, and repeated it, but few only
profit by it.
//274.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=mysteryat
THE MYSTERY AT NO. 89 ---- STREET, NEW YORK.
.hr 20%
.sp 1

.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
"KLEPTOMANIA"--THE TENDENCY TO SUPERSTITION--AN OLD KNICKERBOCKER
FAMILY--A VERY "PROPER" OLD GENTLEMAN, A MR. GARRETSON--HE
CALLS ON ME AT MY OFFICE, AND FINDS A CURIOUS-LOOKING
ROOM--HIS STORY OF WONDERS--"EVERYTHING" STOLEN--TALK
ABOUT DISEMBODIED SPIRITS--THE MYSTERY DEEPENS--PROBABLE
CONJECTURE BAFFLED--VISIT TO MR. GARRETSON'S HOUSE--MRS.
GARRETSON, A BEAUTIFUL AND CULTIVATED OLD LADY--WE SEARCH
THE HOUSE--AN ATTIC FULL OF OLD SOUVENIRS--WE LINGER AMONG
THEM--MR. GARRETSON'S DAUGHTER IS CONVINCED THAT DISEMBODIED
SPIRITS ARE THEIR TORMENTORS--SHE PUTS AN UNANSWERABLE QUESTION--A
DANGEROUS DOG AND THE SPIRITS--TEDIOUS AND UNAVAILING
WATCHING FOR SEVERAL DAYS AND NIGHTS--THE "SPIRITS"
AGAIN AT WORK--RE-CALLED--THE MYSTERY GROWS MORE WONDERFUL--THE
"SPIRIT" DISCOVERED AND THE MYSTERY UNRAVELLED--THE
FAMILY SENT AWAY--THE ATTIC RE-VISITED WITH MR. G. AND
ITS TREASURES REVEALED--A RE-DISCOVERY OF THE "SPIRITS"--THE
FAMILY REVIEW THEIR LONG-LOST TREASURES FOUND--REFLECTIONS
ON THE CAUSES OF THE MYSTERY--A PROBLEM FOR THE
DOCTORS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

<SC><B>"Kleptomania,"</B></SC> the delicate term of modern coinage from
the old Greek, which is used to signify a passion for thieving
under peculiar circumstances, and is mostly used when
the thief is a person of some importance and of moneyed
means, so that the lust for gain is not supposed to be his
prompter to the "offence against the statute in such cases
made and provided," indicates a moral "dereliction" which
not only attacks the wakeful subject, but sometimes infuses
itself into the dreams of sleepers. Many women in a
state of pregnancy are said to be liable to this disease, so
to term it, who, in any other state, would be horrified at
the bare mention of the crime of theft. They exhibit
//275.png
.pn +1
great adroitness in their manœuvre when under the influence
of the disease, and possess a boldness, too, of which,
in their strictly "right minds," they would be utterly incapable.
Such establishments as Stewart's great retail dry
goods store expend large sums of money yearly in the
employment of detectives to watch the customers, to see
that they do not slyly purloin such goods as they may
easily secrete in carpet-bags, in their pockets, under shawls,
or under their dresses, and so on. Not a small number
of these would-be thieves are kleptomaniacs, and mostly
women suffering under diseases peculiar to the sex, or
women in a state of pregnancy, whose blood is more or
less driven in unusual quantities into the head, and stirs
there passions and desires which they never so feel at
other times. The philosophy of this thing would be a
pleasant matter of study, and falls legitimately enough into
the line of a detective's life to investigate; but here is
not the place for its discussion at any great length.

I may run some risk in the narration of this tale, of
trespassing upon the feelings of some persons who might
prefer that I say nothing about it; for the facts were
known to a large circle of highly-respectable people, mostly
relatives of the "chief person of the drama," who would,
perhaps, prefer that the matter should rest in peace, and
go out in oblivion by and by. But I will endeavor to be
delicate and courteous enough, in the avoidance of names,
and in my general descriptions, to offend no one of those
relatives who may read this.

There are a great many people who have a natural tendency
to superstitions of all kinds. They have excellent
common sense, for example, in everything except in
matters of a religious nature. A family of such people
may be divided into religious partisans of the bitterest
stamp; the one may be a Baptist, for instance, and believe
that all the rest, who disagree with him, must be lost.
Another member may be a modern "Adventist," deny
the doctrine of the essential immortality of the soul, and
//276.png
.pn +1
think his brother, who does believe in it, guilty of a
proud and sinful assumption and godless vanity in so
doing. Another may become an English churchman, and
gravitate from that character into the Roman Catholic
church, and feel that all the rest,--the Baptist, the Adventist,
etc.,--must "perish eternally," unless they come into
the fold of the Roman see. And still another may be a
modern Spiritualist, and believe in the return of "departed
souls" to earth, to commune directly, or through
"mediums," with poor mortals here, etc. It seems to
depend very much upon how the superstitious element in
each member of such families is first or finally addressed,
as to what each may become.

The reader will please conceive of an old, respectable
family of Knickerbockers, into whose veins was infused a
little Yankee blood, imported from near Boston, Mass., a
family whose sires held in the past high rank and official
position in the state and nation--a family not a little
proud of its far-off Dutch and English stock--reared in
wealth and luxury, well bred, of course, at home, and well
educated, both the males and the females; with a large
amount of landed estate in various parts of the country,
and blessed with a plenty of houses and building lots in
the cities of New York and Brooklyn; and, in fact, I have
been told that their property could be pointed out all
along the road, from Jersey City to Morristown, New
Jersey. In fact it was by the possession of city lots,
and the constant increase of value thereof, that the family
acquired the larger portion of their estate. Add to
this that the relatives of the family are mostly rich, and
that such of them as are not rich, belong to that highly respectable,
humdrum sort of people, who are here and
there found in the midst of the stir and bustle of New
York, who persist in representing old notions, old modes
of doing business, and whose chief pride exercises and
delights itself in talking over what their fathers did, who
their grandfathers were, etc., or in preserving, perhaps,
//277.png
.pn +1
some legend, that when Washington had his residence
near Bowling Green, their grand-uncle, or some other relative,
was a welcome visitor there. It is necessary to
bring to the mind's eye this class of people in order to
comprehend the commotion which bestirred them at the
time when I was called to "work up a case" in their
midst.

One day, in the last "decade," I was waited on by a very
proper old gentlemen, neatly dressed, with long white locks
smoothly combed, hanging over his shoulders. The old
gentleman possessed one of those passionless faces, so difficult
to read, unless you can get a chance to peer down
the eyes. He wore his gloves just one size too large; a
little too independent to conform to the fashion of tight
gloves, and a little too aristocratic to go without any,--(although
I think a poor-fitting glove no ornament, to say the
least),--and walked with the short, dainty, quick step of the
men of note of the last century; he was tall, that is, about
five feet and ten inches in height, rather slim, though he
evidently had been a man of quite robust form.

But some name I must have--and what better can I
substitute for the real one than Garretson? I might have
chosen Paulding, or Van Wyck; but I may wish to use
them yet in this. Well, such a looking man was Mr. Garretson,
as he came one day into my office, bearing me a
note of introduction from an old skipper who had his office
in Pearl Street then, near Wall Street. The note, it appeared,
was written at Mr. Garretson's, on peculiar family
note paper, and bore the Garretson coat of arms, and
would, I presume, have been sealed with the Garretson
"stamp," and a pile of sealing-wax as large as one of the
lead drops on "bulls," which the Pope attaches to deeds
of excommunication, or of convocation of councils, if
it had not been a note of introduction, and therefore
not proper to be sealed; for the Garretsons were never
known to do anything which was not proper, not suitable
to their rank, and so forth, to do. The old gentleman
//278.png
.pn +1
//279.png
.pn +1
//280.png
.pn +1
stared a little as he entered my office, evidently expecting
to find its appointments a little more to his taste, instead
of finding "everything" in the office, and nothing in order;
and asking if such were my name, and being answered
in the affirmative, he daintily handed me the
note.

.pm illo i_278 i_278.jpg 700px "THE OLD KNICKERBOCKER IN THE DETECTIVE'S OFFICE."

"Be seated, sir," said I, as I took it; and pointed him to
a seat near the window, which looked out on the public
street, and the only empty seat in my office save mine,
the rest being filled with books, papers, coats, hats, shackling
irons, some old disguises, masks, etc., which I had
that day pulled out of a trunk to give them an airing, and
had scattered about. As I read the note, I looked at the
old gentleman, and found him looking out of the window,
as if he were uneasy, and was questioning in his mind
what manner of man was he whom he had come to visit
and consult,--for so intimated the letter of my old friend,
the skipper.

I finished the perusal of the note in a minute or so, and
stepping up to the old man, offered him my hand, with the
usual salutations, and drawing my chair near him, sat down.

"Well, Mr. Garretson, our friend has intimated your
business with me. I am at your service."

There was quite a long pause, when the old man brought
his cane down on the floor between his legs, rested his
hands upon the head of it, bent over it a little, and began:--

"Really, Mr. ----, I was thinking why, on the whole, I
had come here; for the more I think, the less do I believe
that you can give us any assistance. We've tried everything
ourselves."

"Yes, sir, perhaps I cannot assist you; but if you will
tell me your story, I shall probably be able to tell you
whether I can or not immediately."

"That's the trouble, sir; the question of probabilities
in the matter," said he; "for my story is a peculiar one,
and involves the disclosure of matters which I should not
//281.png
.pn +1
like to tell you, unless you can conscientiously say that
you think you can solve one of the greatest mysteries in
the world,"--and here he paused.

"Why, sir," said I, "everything is a mystery to those
who do not understand it. I cannot assure you that I can
be of any service to you; but it is my business to unravel
these matters which are mysteries to most people, and
however complicated your case may be, I dare say I can
cite many instances of as difficult ones, which have been
worked out."

"I presume so," said he. "You are right. 'What man
has done man may do,' you know; but we've tried everything
which seems possible to be done, to solve the
trouble."

"Doubtless all you have thought of as being practicable
has been tried, sir; but there is some solution of your
trouble possible, sir, of course."

"Yes, yes; that's true--unless there is some superior
power at work in the matter. Some of my family and
friends think there is."

"O, ho! Then to find out <i>that</i> for a certainty would be a
solution worth having; but you can only discover that by
first proving that your affair is not operated by any ordinary
power. Do you mean that it's thought to be the
work of disembodied spirits?"

"Yes, and I confess I am half-inclined to think so myself;
and I almost feel sorry that I have come to you so soon,"
said he, in a voice and manner which revealed to me his
superstitious proclivities quite pointedly.

"O, well, sir," I replied, "it is not proper for me to press
you to tell your story now. You must be your own judge
of the propriety of doing so; but if you wish to, you can
recite your case to me confidentially, and I will give you
whatever construction of it may occur to me."

"Well, if the matter can remain a secret with you, if you
do not see a way to solve it, I will tell you, and I do presume
that you may be able to cast some light upon it. The
//282.png
.pn +1
case is this. I live at No. 89 ---- Street, as you already
know from Mr. ----'s note."

"Yes, sir; I call the house to mind; have often noticed
it as I have passed along that street."

"Well, sir, now for some eight months I've been able to
keep nothing in our house of a small kind, and valuable
nature, such as spoons, napkin rings, all sorts of silver
ware, jewelry, watches, ladies' dresses, and my own clothing,
etc., in fact, anything; it is all mysteriously carried
off. I say mysteriously, for we have kept watch, night
after night, and things would disappear right before our
eyes, as it were."

"Well," said I, after a pause of some length, in which
the old man seemed to be pondering whether he would go
on with his story or not, looking bewildered, as if there
was something he wished to tell me about, but did not
quite dare to, or was ashamed to tell. "Well, tell me
the whole story. How many persons are there in your
family?"

"My wife and myself, three unmarried daughters; two
married ones spend much time there too; and two of my
sons, unmarried. They are in business; but I like to have
my family about me--"

"Are these all?"

"Yes, except the servants. I have four maid-servants
in the house, besides my coachman and butler."

"Do you suspect none of these servants?"

"No; I've tested them in every way. They have all,
with the exception of one girl, been with me for from ten
to twenty-five years. I called the women maid-servants;
two of them are widows, one has been a widow for twenty
years, and has lived with us for all that time, and the butler
has been with us longer. I would trust any of them
as soon as I would my own children."

"Of course, then, you suspect no one in your house?"

"No, no; there's nobody there to do these things. We've
all watched and watched, I tell you, and the servants are
//283.png
.pn +1
as much interested as we to know who is the guilty
actor, for they have lost many things as well as the rest
of us."

"You speak of one girl who has not been there so long
as the rest. How long has she been with you?"

"About three years."

"Has she a lover who visits the house?"

"O, yes; and he's been coming there for two years."

"Why don't he marry her and take her away?"

"My wife wouldn't part with her--will keep her as long
as she lives, if she can. She thinks she's the best servant
she ever saw. We should suspect her least of all. She
has lost nearly every keepsake her lover has given her,
and some very valuable things which her mother gave her
on leaving Ireland, and the poor girl has nearly cried her
eyes out over her loss."

"Well, her lover, what sort of a man is he?"

"A hard working mechanic; works at the Novelty
Works, and bears an excellent name."

"Is he Irish, too? I suppose he is."

"No; he is an Englishman--a Yorkshire man, I think."

"Is he Protestant or Catholic?"

"Protestant to be sure. She's Catholic, though."

"Have you ever talked with him about your losses?"

"Yes; and he and Mary, the girl, have watched several
times, sitting up to keep my wife company, who was watching
too; sitting up half the night, and things would disappear
then."

"So you have no reason for suspecting him. Well, the
case <i>does</i> look a little strange, I confess," said I; "but I
would like to have you go into detail all about your premises;
where the things taken were, who were in your house
at the time, the kind of locks you have on your doors;
what searches you have made, at what hours, or between
what hours, the things have been taken; for how long, in
consecutive days or weeks, things have been stolen; if
there's been any cessation of these pilferings for any length
//284.png
.pn +1
of time since they began; if you have ever discovered any
traces of anybody's having gotten into the house at this
or that window; what part of the house has been rifled
the most,"--and every other query I could then think
of, I added.

This drew from the old gentleman a minute story of the
whole affair. I found the locks were the best; that he had
a ferocious watch-dog loose every night in the lower and
middle part of the house, but excluded from the chambers,
on the servants' account, who were afraid of him; that all
parts of the house were rifled alike, and it seemed from
what he said that the thefts were accomplished from about
the time of the family's retiring until morning, for they
had watched sometimes till near morning, and then on rising
would find something gone, mostly things of value,
too; but sometimes trivial things, such as the grand-children's
tops, etc., when they happened to be visiting there.
The relatives of the family had been called in to watch
too; but things went when they were there the same, and
when the watch was most complete as to the number of
watchers, then it was that the most valuable things were
missed, and injury (evidently out of pure malevolence)
done to valuable furniture; and finally Mr. Garretson
told me that there had been two obvious attempts to
fire the house,--and this he uttered with tremulous
emotions.

From all I could gather from him I could not make up
my mind to any conclusions upon which it could rest, and
I told him I must visit the premises, and make examinations
for myself. But I could not go till the next day or
night, for that night I had engaged to meet some parties
in counsel upon an important matter; "but which," said I,
to him, "was more mysterious, a week ago, than anything
you have told me, and which has been worked out. Now
we are to consult as to how best to get the guilty parties
into our hands, for we know who they are." This seemed
to encourage Mr. Garretson for a little, and we parted,
//285.png
.pn +1
I to call at his house some time next day, at my convenience.

I went as appointed, and was presented by Mr. Garretson
to his wife, a fair-looking old lady, of the blonde school.
Indeed, she was a motherly, sweet woman to look upon,
and had evidently drunken at the "fountain of youth"
somewhere; for although she was only five years younger
than Mr. Garretson, as I learned, she looked thirty years
his junior. Her face was a blending of the Greek and
modern German in style, nose aquiline, and head broad,
and not lacking in height; a pleasingly-shaped head to
look upon; and there was all the mercy, tenderness, and
kindness in her eye and voice which one could desire to
find in a woman.

There was a sweet, unostentatious dignity, too, about
her which compelled respect. She gave me a long account
of the household's troubles, of her own watchings night
after night, of the hypotheses she had had about the matter,
and how one by one they had been exploded; and she
and Mr. Garretson took me all over the house, even up
into the attic, among piles of old "lumber," such as boxes,
old trunks, old furniture, that had been set aside to make
room for new, piled up with hosts of things which almost
any other family would have sent off to the auction shops,
or sold to second-hand furniture men. But she explained
that some of these things had belonged to her grandfather,
and other deceased relatives, and that a large old
Dutch wooden chest, with great iron clasps all over it,
was brought over by Mr. Garretson's ancestors from
Europe. These she couldn't bear to sell, she said; "and
often," said she, "they afford me great pleasure, for when
Mr. Garretson and the girls are gone from home, I sit up
here in this old chair" (and she pointed to a large chair, the
posts of which were large enough each to make a modern
chair out of), "and muse, read, and think over the past, and
dwell upon heavenly things to come."

In her talk, Mrs. Garretson became quite animated, and
//286.png
.pn +1
we waited up there, listening to her stories about the old
furniture and her ancestors, quite a long while. I noticed
that with the excitement of the hour her face had become
quite rosy, and that there was a peculiar spot on each
cheek, not unlike the hectic flush upon the cheeks of the
consumptive. But she was, apparently, in the full vigor
of health; a tall, but solidly-made woman, and evidently
had no trouble in her lungs. But the spots gave her face
a peculiar expression, and withal seemed, somehow, to
give her eyes the look of subtle intelligence, which I had
not observed before. I found that although Mr. Garretson
was a sensible old man, well educated, and, withal, courtly,
yet Mrs. G. was the chief spirit of the house, and so I
consulted her further when we came from the attic. We
visited each chamber, and looked into each closet, of
course; and the windows of the house in front and rear
were all examined, and I satisfied myself too that there was
no easy approach, and no way of getting in without great
risk to life or limb from the other adjoining houses; and I
examined the basement as thoroughly, talked with the servants,
and finally with the daughters, two of whom were then
at home, and who came in from making morning calls. One
of these daughters had settled down upon the conviction
that the thefts were the work of disembodied spirits; but
to my query if she meant by these words "departed
<i>friends</i>," she smiled, and said, "Not exactly;" and went on
to tell me her religious notions about "evil spirits," as well
as good ones, etc. The father fell in with her views considerably;
but the clear-headed old lady, the mother, in a
kind way, combated them with great force. But there
was no answering the daughter when she retorted,--

"Well, perhaps it is not the work of spirits; but will
you tell me whose work it is--who does it?"

Of course the family could have nothing to reply. They
had exhausted their powers to solve the mystery, and I
confess I began to think a particle less lightly of ghosts,
hobgoblins, and "spirits of departed men," than ever before.
//287.png
.pn +1
That dog, too, which was chained up below, and
was let loose of nights, was a savage-looking fellow, and it
seemed to me that he would catch and tear to pieces anything
but a spirit that might be prowling about the house.

I was at my wits' ends to conceive a theory which
should throw light upon the subject, or even to make anything
at all like a reasonable conjecture. But I could not
help feeling that perhaps out of the daughter's suggestion
of "spiritual" interference might be wrought something
in the way of a solution of the vexatious mystery; and
so I brought up the topic in that phase again, and we all
entered into a general discussion.

It appeared that things had more frequently been missed
when all the outer doors and all the windows of the house
had been closed and locked, than at other times, when some
of the upper windows especially had been opened; more in
the winter than in the summer time. The articles taken,
then, could hardly have been borne by "spirits" even,
through the solid doors, or the glass of the windows; and
so I inquired if it was sure that every trunk and every
hiding-place in the house had been searched, and was assured
by all, father, mother, and daughters that such
search had been frequently made by them; and they explained
how they had gone to the bottom of trunks and
boxes, and had "shaken out sheets," etc., for in the early
period of these thefts, it had been conjectured that the
things missed had simply been mislaid. The daughter
gave me her reasons extendedly for supposing the thefts
the work of spirits, and I had to confess that some of her
reasoning seemed good, "provided always," as a lawyer
would say, that there are any such existences as "spirits"
at all. But the family believed in "spirits;" whether they
could or did communicate with "things on earth," or not,
was the whole question with them; but the mother's judgment
seemed to settle the question for the father and the
other daughter, which was, that these thefts were not committed
by spirits; and to this point we got during my
//288.png
.pn +1
tarry there that day, and it was agreed that I should return
in the evening and pass the night in the house.

I left Mr. Garretson's, and being a little weary, when I
returned home threw myself on my bed, and managed to
secure about four hours' sleep, which I needed in view of
my prospective watching that night, and I arrived at Mr.
G.'s about half past ten o'clock. A room had been prepared
for me on the first flight, above the parlor, its door
opening into the broad hall, which room I took after a half
hour's conversation with the family. It appeared that
things were missed equally on nights when the gas was
burning dimly about the house, as when it was shut off;
and I deemed it best to have a slight light burning in the
halls, parlors, and so forth, which was permitted. Bidding
the family good night (having concluded to not let the
dog loose for fear, in my secret mind, that he might attack
me if loose, and I should be about the house; but which
thought I did not then reveal, saying only that he might
make a noise, and I could perhaps listen better if I heard
steps). I betook myself to my room, and drawing a
lounge near to the door, which was open a few inches,
I stretched myself upon it, and began to muse upon the
probabilities in the case. There I lay. The clock struck
twelve--again it struck one--and I had no occasion to
move from my position, and began to conceive that possibly
the "spirits" wouldn't work with me in the house. A
half hour more went on, when suddenly I discovered the
light in the hall go out. Quickly leaving the lounge, I
rushed into the hall, only to discover that it was total darkness
all over the house, save in my room. When Mrs.
Garretson, hearing me, stepped to her door, and said,--

"Is that you, Mr. ----?"

"Yes, madam. I saw the light go out, and I came to
see what it means."

"O," said she, "I put out the light, for somehow, I
found it oppressive--the sense of it--and could not sleep,
and I guess we shall not be disturbed to-night."
//289.png
.pn +1

A few more words were exchanged between us, when I
retired to my room, and there watched the whole night out,
waiting for some sign of noise in the house. But I reflected
that Mrs. G. had been in different parts of the
house to put out the lights, and I had not heard her move.
Had she not put out the lights I should not have known
that she had stirred. How, then, could I hear spirits, or
even mortals, so far as their footfalls were concerned? Mr.
G. got up early that morning, came to my room, and begged
me to go to bed and sleep, as he should be up and about
the rest of the morning, as well as the servants, who would
soon be up. They would have a late breakfast, or I could
lie till dinner time, if I liked, and get a good rest. He
closed the door as he went out, and I lay till called for
dinner. At breakfast-time Mr. G. had made his way to
my room, and finding me "snoring soundly," as he said,
let me sleep on.

At dinner, it was disclosed that some three or four things
had been missed that night; among them a very valuable
gold thimble, which the daughters knew was left in a given
place, and they were the last who retired; and a peculiar,
elegant, silver-mounted sea-shell, which had been brought
from the Mediterranean, and on which had been cut some
sea-songs in the modern Greek language. I had noticed
this beautiful shell myself. Where were these gone, and
who had taken them? Mrs. Garretson was sure that she
was awake a good part of the night, and could have heard
anybody moving about the house, for with a screen at
their door, her husband and herself usually left their bedroom
door open. We canvassed the matter over and over,
and arrived at no conclusion. Finally, it was determined
that I should stay the coming night. And I left, and returned
in due time. This night was one of severe watching,
to no purpose. Nothing was found to be gone, and I
watched still the third night, to no purpose. No noise
was there, and nothing taken; and I gave up the matter
//290.png
.pn +1
//291.png
.pn +1
//292.png
.pn +1
for a while, subject to be called in again if Mr. Garretson
thought best.

.pm illo i_290 i_290.jpg 700px "DISCOVERING THE \"SPIRITS,\" AT NO. 89 ---- STREET, N. Y."

Several days, and finally three weeks passed, before I
was again called. Meanwhile this case was constantly on
my mind, no matter how busily I was employed with other
matters, some of which were almost as difficult of solution
as this. I could not yet come to any conclusion; but I
had resolved, that if I should be called in again, what course
to pursue. At the end of three weeks Mr. G. called on
me, and said that the "spirits" were again at work; had
visited the house the night before, and carried off several
things, this time having evidently tried to carry away some
chairs, for they found two of the parlor chairs in the basement
hall, standing against the door. This was rather too
much for my credulity, that "spirits" should do these
things, and I went that night to Mr. G.'s with the determined
purpose of meeting the "spirits" in the operation
of carrying off chairs, etc., for I concluded I could see the
furniture if the spirits were indeed invisible. The room I
had before was given me, and the household retired,--I
giving them no clew to the course I intended to pursue.
The dog was chained as before, and I had taken quiet
notice of the location of everything in the parlors, and
had visited the kitchen (from which things were frequently
taken, even loaves of bread, for which I suspected the
"spirits" had no use), and taken notes there. I had visited
the dog in company with Mrs. G., and gotten into his
good graces as well as I could, and made him familiar with
my voice.

The family retired, and so did I, but not to sleep. In a
half hour after going to my room, there being no light in
the house this night, I took a dark lantern I had secretly
brought with me, and taking off my boots, tripped down
into the parlors, out of one of which, in the somewhat old-fashioned
house, opened a closet with shelves in it, at the top,
but with room enough for me to sit comfortably in it upon
an ottoman, which I placed there, and with the door slightly
//293.png
.pn +1
ajar, there I sat. Of course I was well armed for any
emergency, and my purpose was to shoot anything like a
"spirit" I might find prowling about, provided I could get
"sight" of the wretch. There I remained for two hours
and over, when, about half after one o'clock in the morning
I heard something like a person's stumbling against
a chair. I listened intently, and heard something moving
very stealthily. There was no light in the room, and so
cocking my trusty pistol, and holding it in my right hand,
I with the other brought out from its concealment my
dark lantern, and threw its full blaze into the room, and
there, to my astonishment, I found a person in a night-gown,
with a sort of tunic over it. The size indicated
Mrs. G., and I was just about to apologize to her, when
she turned about, and I saw that her eyes were closed.
There was a very peculiar and cunning look in her face, and
she concealed in her tunic a pair of opera glasses, and other
small things, which she took from the <i>étagères</i> in the corner
of the room. It flashed upon my mind at once, of
course, that Mrs. G. was the troublesome "spirit" I was
seeking, and I immediately turned the veil upon my lamp,
fearing that the light might disturb her operations, and
awaken her; for I suspected at once that she was in a state
of partial sleep, and was, in short, a somnambulist; and when
in the condition of one, affected with the desire to conceal
things; romancing, in short, in her dreams. I resolved to
follow her, to see what disposition she would make of her
prizes; and so, when I concluded she had gotten to the
other side of the room, I brought out my lantern again,
and discovered her tripping lightly to the hall stairs, and
I slowly and softly followed. Up stairs she went, and up
another flight, and finally ascended the attic stairs. I followed,
as near as I could, without disturbing her, and with
my light got the opportunity of seeing her open the big
Dutch chest, of which I have spoken before. She unlocked
it, and I waited no longer, but went down to my
room, and stood within the door of it waiting for her to
//294.png
.pn +1
return. She came down after some ten minutes had passed,
as stealthily and softly as she had gone up, and there was
playing upon her face, which my light partly turned on
revealed, that same covert smile. She passed on to her
bed-room door which was open, and must have glided
around the screen, which stood within the doorway, and
lay down.

I withdrew to my room, locked the door, and went to
bed, and slept more soundly than I had done for three
nights before,--the solace which comes to mental anxiety
is so much more soothing than the balm which heals only
physical pains. Breakfast was called at a late hour next
morning, and I felt perfectly refreshed from my sleep, and
was in one of my jolliest moods; and when I announced at
table that I had, I thought (as I cautiously said), fully
solved the mystery,--had seen the "spirits," and knew all
about the matter,--there was no little astonishment expressed
all around the board. But I got the family in a
joking mood, and held them in suspense--in half doubts.
Mrs. G. was the liveliest of all, and said they could never
be grateful enough to me, never could pay me enough for
what I had done, if I had really scented out the culprits.
They asked me all sorts of questions; but I was not ready
to explain, for I was in doubt what was the best course,--whether
I should tell the mother alone, or the father, or
both, or all.

At last I decided upon a course, which was, to get the
daughters and mother away from the house on some errand;
to tell the father, and with him make search of the
chest, and every other conceivable hiding-place in the
house, which thing,--the sending off of the mother and
daughters,--was readily accomplished after I had slyly
taken the father to my room, when the ladies were occupied
with their cares and pleasures, and told him that I
wished he would ask no questions why, but that I desired
he would send out his family.

Fortunately they were projecting a visit that day to
//295.png
.pn +1
some friends in a distant part of the city, and the old gentleman
encouraged it; and finally ordered out his carriage,
and sent them off with the driver, in great glee, in their
expectancy of "the great revelation when we get home,"
as the spiritualistic daughter expressed it.

They had not gotten well away before I asked the father
to hunt up whatever keys he could find in the house; and
he was not long in finding two or three bunches, and several
other single ones besides, and, without explaining anything,
I told him to follow me, and proceeded at once to
the attic. A half dozen trials of the keys resulted in
the chest's yielding up its deposits. There we found all
sorts of things secreted away in old boxes placed within
the chest, and all covered with a blanket, and over all this
small piles of time-old newspapers, brown and faded. The
chest was very capacious, and contained a great deal of
the silver ware that had been taken, valuable little articles
of <i>virtu</i>; a large quantity of jewelry, and all sorts of
small things which are ordinarily to be found in the houses
of wealthy people. These were all nicely laid away. Considerable
order was observed in their arrangement, which
accounted for the hours of solitary comfort which Mrs. G.
told me, on the first visit to the attic, that she spent there
among the old mementos of the past. But when we had
gotten everything out of the chest, Mr. G. called to mind
many things which had been missed, which were not found
there; so we made the most scrupulous search into old
trunks, and other things in the attic, without much avail,
finding a few things, however. At last, in removing some
old boxes which stood atop of each other, and against the
chief chimney running through the attic, we came across
a fireplace, which Mr. G. said he had forgotten all about.
Long years before the house had been extended into the
rear yard (for it was a corner house), by a small "L," in
which the servants were provided with rooms. Prior to
that some of them had occupied a room done off in the
attic, the board partitions of which had been removed. It
//296.png
.pn +1
was then this fireplace was in use. A sheet-iron "fire-board"
closed it up, and was held in place by a button.
As I took hold of the button, and found it moved easily, I
said to Mr. G., "We shall find treasures here;" and we did.
It was quite full of household things; and here we found
some of the largest pieces of silver ware that had been
lost. A full tea-service, etc., together with a large roll of
bank bills, and five bills of old "Continental scrip," the
loss of which Mr. G. had mourned as much as that of almost
all the rest, for they were pieces which Alexander Hamilton
had given to Mr. G.'s father, upon a certain occasion notable
in the history of the latter, and bore General Hamilton's
initials in his own hand.

We continued our search, and found other things, which
it is needless to specify. Then Mr. G. and I held a "council
of war" as to what was to be next done. We concluded
that the servants must not be allowed to know anything
about the matter, and we had not concluded whether
the daughters were to be let into the secret or not. This
was after I had told Mr. G. of my solution of the matter,
which I had kept secret from him until we came to consider
what was to be done with the things. At first we thought
we would at once carry them all to his bedroom, and place
them in a large closet there. But finally Mr. G. thought
it would be more satisfying to see his wife operate, himself;
and we put back the things as well as we could, and
went down. It was arranged that I should come back
that night to watch further, and that Mr. G. should tell
the family that I wished to make more investigations, and
that I was not quite satisfied after all; which he did. That
night I returned, kept excellent watch, and Mrs. G., as
fate would have it, left her room, and went prowling
about as before. At the proper time I entered Mr. G.'s
room, and awakened him; and, drawing on his pantaloons,
and wrapping himself in a cloak, he followed me and
watched his wife's manœuvre to his satisfaction, and retired,
before she had concluded her work.
//297.png
.pn +1

The next day, at breakfast, the family rallied me about
the things missed the night before, Mr. G. joining in the
badgering, jokingly. I played the part of a defeated man,
half covered with shame; and before noon Mr. G. had the
family out to ride again. We hastily gathered up all the
lost and found treasures, and placed them in a large closet
in Mr. G.'s bedroom; he having made up his mind to give
his wife, by herself, a great surprise, and then tell her
what he had seen, and consult her feelings as to whether
the children were to ever know how the things were gotten
back, or not.

He was anxious to have me wait till she came; and we
managed, without exciting the suspicion of the girls, to
get together in the bedroom, where Mr. G. opened the
door of the closet, first cautioning Mrs. G. to make no loud
exclamation, and there revealed the lost treasures.

"See what the 'spirits' have brought back to us?"
said he. "Mr. ---- is the best 'medium for business' in
the city. We must give him a certificate;" and the old
man "rattled away" with his jokes, while Mrs. G. looked
on with astonishment and delight.

"You must tell me all about it," said she. "How <i>did</i> you
find these things? Who brought them? Who is the thief?
How did he get in the house? Does he come down chimney?"
and a host of other questions.

"I'll tell you all about it to-night," said Mr. G. "It is a
long story; but first the girls must be called to see the
lost treasures now restored." And the daughters were
called up. To their queries, uttered amidst the profoundest
astonishment, as to how, and when, etc., the treasures
were brought back, and who was the thief, and if it was
some Catholic, who had disgorged the stolen goods
through the confessional, Mr. G. only answered, slyly
winking at the spiritualistic daughter, "It was through
the means of a first-rate 'medium' that the things were
restored."

"There, there," said the daughter, too serious to understand
//298.png
.pn +1
her father's irony, "I could have told you so.
What do you think now of spiritualism, father?"

"O, I don't know," said he in reply. "There <i>are</i> a great
many strange things in the world, that's a fact." But he
would not promise to ever tell them how the things got
back, and the ladies went to assorting them, and commenting
on each article. It was a novel sight to see the eagerness
with which they grasped at this or that article as it
turned up,--the long-lost treasures found.

I left the house duly that day, and I understood from Mr.
G., who called on me three or four days after, that when
he told his wife that night what he had seen, and how she
looked, and so forth, when moving about so slyly, that she
had a "great crying spell" over it, and did not wish the
daughters to be informed of the secret state of things;
and that for fear the somnambulistic state should come
upon her again, she tied her arm or foot to the bedstead,
in order to be awakened if she should attempt to get out
of bed. But she had had no more attacks of the disease.

"Perhaps her severe crying broke it," said he.

I made many inquiries of Mr. G. about his wife's habits
in life, her general health, her peculiar troubles, if she had
any, by way of resolving this mystery of the kleptomania
connected with the somnambulism; and from all I could
learn, I believe that she was one of the most conscientious
and best of mortals in her normal state, and I was led to
believe that the kleptomania, if not the somnambulism, was
caused by diseases, though slight ones, peculiar to the
female sex; but why these came on so late in life, (for
Mrs. Garretson was sixty-three years old,) I cannot conceive,
but leave that for the doctors to decide.
//299.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=sorceress
THE SORCERESS' TRICK, AND HOW SHE WAS CAUGHT.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
CLASSIFICATION OF MEN--THE SUPERSTITIOUS ELEMENT IN MAN--THE
OLD CULTS CONTINUED IN THE NEW--FIRE WORSHIP--THE SORCERERS--MY
LEGAL FRIEND'S STORY A LAUGHABLE ONE INDEED--THE DESPONDENT
OLD MAID, THOUGH ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED--AN AUNT
ARRIVES IN "THE NICK OF TIME"--THEY HUNT UP A FORTUNE-TELLER--MRS.
SEYMOUR, THE SORCERESS, AND HER PRETTY LITTLE
"ORATORY"--THE "PRIE-DIEU"--THE OLD MAID MARRIES--MRS.
SEYMOUR'S PLAN FOR INSURING THE AFFECTION OF HUSBANDS--HER
POWERS AS A CHARMER--THE SACRED BOX AND ITS FIVE THOUSAND
DOLLARS CONTENTS--MRS. SEYMOUR IS LOST SIGHT OF--SEARCH FOR
HER IN BROOKLYN AND AT BOSTON--THE CHARMED BOX OPENED BY MR.
AND MRS. ----, AND THE CONTENTS FOUND TO HAVE CHANGED FORM
MATERIALLY--MY LEGAL FRIEND AND I LOOK AFTER MATTERS--A
PORTION OF THE TRANSFORMED VALUABLES FOUND--A MRS. BRADLEY,
A "MEDIUM" IN BOSTON, PROVES TO BE THE IDENTICAL MRS. SEYMOUR--THE
HIGH-TONED DEVOTEES OF BOSTON--SUDDEN PROCEEDINGS
TAKEN--MRS. SEYMOUR AND HER HUSBAND COME TO TERMS--RESULTS--RESPECTABLE
VICTIMS OF THE SORCERERS NUMEROUS--THE
DUPES IN THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA."
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>What</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
What
.if-
the human race might have become without the
love of the mysterious or marvellous in its composition,
would be a pretty subject of speculation for the philosophers,
but one which human genius will prove perhaps ever
unable to solve. There are three classes of human beings,--or
so I am apt to divide them in my "philosophy,"--the
good, and in different degrees, sensible; the crafty; and
the simple and weak, neither positively good or bad.
These latter two divisions comprehend the vast majority
of mankind, made so, to a great extent, by the institutions
which the race has, in its ignorance, wrought out for itself,
and by which it is constantly cursed, until one by one it
//300.png
.pn +1
outgrows, along the course of the ages, these outrages
upon itself, which itself has imposed. This process of
outgrowing we call <i>progress</i>, and so it is, perhaps; but it
would be more satisfactory progress if, when it overrides
or abates one wrong or malicious incumbrance upon a race,
it could or would also avoid the establishment of another
equally bad. The love of the mysterious is, to a great extent,
the religious element in man. Some writers hold that
it is such to the full extent; but I am not about to decide
that, even for myself alone, much less for others. True it
is, however, that in all historic time this element, or whatever
else one is pleased to call it, has been the medium
through which the intellectual and tyrant forces in the race
have subjected the weaker to their sway. The ancient
oracles played upon the superstitious in men in the government
of whole races and nations, and to-day the oracles of
old are reproduced among us in a thousand ways, and the
religions of the past, in their symbolizations, exist among
us, and exert their influence, almost unconsciously to the
masses.

For example. That beautiful cult, or religion of old, sun-worship,--is
traceable in modern institutions, and the
old fire-worship, so wondrous, still lives in that word
Purity (from the Greek word <i>pur</i>, fire), which is the expression
of our highest or deepest sense of all that is
morally perfect; and in the very steeples of our churches
is the old fire-worship symbolized; for the steeple is but a
representation of the old obelisks, which were themselves
but symbols of the tall shafts of fire which shot up from
the top of some mountain, like Sinai, when the worshippers
built thereon the vast <i>bon</i>-fires,--or good, i. e., <i>holy</i>,--fires
to which the vast assemblages poured forth their
devotions. And in even the names of the days of the
week we preserve the memories of the old superstitions,
and to some extent the superstitions themselves--Sun-day,
day devoted to the worship of the sun, and so on. In
Thurs-day, or Thor's-day, we are kept in mind of the old
//301.png
.pn +1
Scandinavian god, as potent in the estimation of his worshippers
as the Jehovah of the Hebrews was to them,
though a somewhat different character.

Through all grades, and shades, and degrees the superstitious
element of to-day finds itself fed. The sublime
and the ridiculous still exists as of old, and the advertising
columns of the public journals tell but too plainly and painfully
of the susceptibility of the masses to the deceits and
frauds to which the superstitious element in them subjects
them. The sorcerers are not yet extinct, and the prophets,
as good as most of those of ancient days, and magicians
as expert as those whom the greater magician, Moses, outwitted,
are still to be found; and I suspect these excel
those of ancient times in one important, the most important,
art--that of money-getting. But they have an advantage
over their prototypes in that they have the
influence of the public journals of these days to widely
proclaim themselves--to make their pretensions heard by
a larger audience. I suspect that many a reader of this
would be surprised to learn, could he be statistically informed,
how vast is the number of the victims of modern
sorcery. These are not confined to the lower orders, as
many an intelligent and educated man, who has not made
the special matter of remark here a study, might quite
sensibly suspect. None of the conventional grades of
society, whether the same be measured by money, by the
education of books, or what is called "blood," or high
hereditary social position, is lacking in them; and it is remarkable
that the victims from the educated circles are as
much more intense, generally, in their superstitions, as
their superiority in other respects to the uneducated is
marked and distinguished. I suppose this may be accounted
for thus: Being once led into superstition, the
man of letters resorts to his pride of intellect to sustain
himself in it, and deepen his convictions; for although we
cannot exactly believe whatever we please,--for the character
of evidence must be a matter of some consideration
//302.png
.pn +1
with us, must have weight with us,--yet when we are led
on to a certain point, and have averred our belief in any
absurdity, we are disposed to admit its logical consequences,
however wide apart from good sense they may be.

In this narrative I have first to deal with parties of high
social position--of education, and much refinement, of
course,--but descended from a long line of ancestors more
or less noted for their inclination to believe everything
which came to them under the similitude of religion or
superstition of any kind--anything which seemed to
them inexplicable; anything, in other words, mysterious to
them.

A lawyer of my acquaintance--in fact an old friend,
who had employed me many times before, especially in the
ferreting out of legal evidence in criminal matters--came
one day into my office with a broad grin on his face. I
was in pretty good humor, and was beguiling an hour or
two,--while I was awaiting the advent of a party who I
hoped would bring me some valuable news of the working
of a little plot of mine in the investigation of a case,--with
Dickens's Martin Chuzzlewit. Of course I was in
good humor, enjoying that rare word-painter's faithful pictures
of American society as he found it; and my friend,
the lawyer, was of course enjoying himself, otherwise why
that irresistible grin, which, in my mood, stirred me up to
outright laughter as he entered?

"What's up?" I said. "Deliver yourself <i>instanter</i>; for
I want to hear the fun."

"O, ho," he replied, "I've the jolliest affair to tell you
of that ever occurred in the line of my experience. I am
counsel, advocate, and judge in the matter, and expected
to be constable, jury, and executioner, all in one; for the
whole thing, involving love and lovers, 'potions and pills,'
quacks, schemers, thieves, and everything else, is left in
my hands, and I've come over to divide the honors with
you--"

"Well, well; after your long opening, suppose you come
//303.png
.pn +1
down to the points in the matter--'judge,' 'executioner,'
or whatever you please to call yourself in the premises."

"To begin, then, you must know that there's a part of
the business which you must not know at present, and that
is, the <i>names</i> of the people I am about to tell you of.
These people occupy a very high position in society, and
their case is the funniest thing in the world, considering
their rank, life-time associations, and the man's official position
in the world, or rather the one which he has held,--a
very high one under the government. You must understand
that he is old and wealthy, and that his wife is a
young woman, comparatively speaking, though she had
arrived at that degree of maturity before marriage which
entitles a lady to the honors of an old maid. She is extremely
well educated, comes of a good family, and has
been a successful teacher in her day in a ladies' seminary.
All things considered, she is, in the general way, rather
the superior of her husband. This much to begin with, to
give you a sort of inkling of how extraordinary the case
is; for if they were simply a couple of fools, or ordinary
people, the matter wouldn't have any spice in it."

"Well," I broke in as he paused, "go on, and satisfy my
curiosity, counsellor, now that you've whetted it up."

"Be patient," said he, "and I will, but I am always
choked with the comicality of the affair when I picture it
to myself; and I was only stopping to gather a little dignity,
to go on reciting the serious thing to you. The parties
are very rich, and it's only a matter of some five
thousand dollars anyhow--a bagatelle for them. They
are ugly about it, considering the way they, or rather she,
was duped,"--and here the lawyer fairly roared, as he
slapped his hand upon his knee, over the thought of such
people's being "taken in and done for" by the arts which
usually prevail mostly among the ignorant. But there is
no telling what the superstitious element in the mind may
not lead to.
//304.png
.pn +1

My friend went on to say, then, that about the time of
the marriage of the old maid in question with the rich old
man, she had, in brooding over her future, gotten it into
her head in some way, that perhaps his affection,--of
which she felt pretty contentedly sure for the time, however,--might
wane and grow less, and she become but a
slave to the old man and his money. Brooding over
this, she got quite melancholy and "nervous." She really
loved the old man, who was not only a man of ability and
honors, but was very kind of soul. Of course, too, his
great wealth was no objection to a woman who could
appreciate the value of a comfortable home, or enjoy the
refinements of a luxurious one.

"I would not wish to intimate," said the lawyer, "that
she took this matter of wealth into consideration, even
lightly; for I like to assure myself once in a while that
there are to be found a few women in this populous vale
of tears, who have considerations superior to the thought
of wealth; and, verily, this woman <i>looks</i> to me like one of
those."

But the woman got nervous. If his affection should fail,
why, she would become only a prettily-dressed bird in a
handsome cage, with enough to eat and drink, but without
loving companionship; excluded, in fact, from the society
of her old and poorer friends, and, to use a religious phrase,
unhappy enough to be practically "without God in the
world." She hardly dared to mention to any of her particular
friends the dreadful thought that was knawing at her
heart, and growing fiercer every day, for fear they would
ridicule her.

"Ladies having passed a certain age are supposed to be
peculiarly sensitive on matters touching love and marriage,
you know," said my friend, with a very knowing wink in
his eye.

No, she had no friend to pour out her soul to on the
very point, of all things, the most dear to her. Her "intended"
had exhibited some peculiarities of character
//305.png
.pn +1
which she did not understand, and now, while she was
brooding over her especial grief, he was naturally enough
more eccentric than ever. Possibly he, too, was undergoing
fears,--fears that when he grew older, and older--and
he was far in advance of her in years,--that her affection
would wane, and then all that would bind her to him
would be his money. Perhaps he had caught her disease
unconsciously. Withal the condition of things generally
between them, in their silent hearts, must have been anything
but pleasant to both of them. The lady prayed for
light to know her duty to herself and her coming lord,--in
fact, to be taught from on high whether she would be
doing a wrong or not to him, to marry him,--for her fever
had burned on beyond the point of simple selfishness.
The great question of duty and right had seized hold of
her mind, and she had become religiously morbid thereon.
But one thing she thought she knew for a certainty--that
she not only loved him now, but would continue to love
him, always. So she reflected that she should do no wrong
to him in marrying; and she finally got to the resolution
that she would patiently bear his coldness and neglect, and
even his tyranny, if he should display anything of the last,
as a good Christian woman ought to,--and the time
set for the wedding was fast drawing near. But she found
this resolution of Christian fortitude under the condition
of unrequited love rather more than a good human nature
could bear, or ought ever to be asked to bear; and it got
to be an awful burden to her, meek and lowly though
she was.

As the time grew shorter before the wedding, the lady's
wakeful hours at night grew longer and more burdensome,
and her friends began to notice their telling effect upon
her countenance, and whole constitution, in fact. Such of
them as were indelicate enough (and who ever knew many
ladies, especially, who are not inclined to be indelicate at
times on matters of love and marriage, or rather towards
those indulging the one and contemplating the other?),--such,
//306.png
.pn +1
my friend went on to say, got to poking fun at her
a little; said the condition she contemplated must be terrible,
indeed, since it wore upon her so much, etc.--all of
which did not seem to amend matters much.

But finally, only three or four days before the time set
for the wedding, and not over an hour after her old lover
had called, and rolled away in his carriage,--he having
seemed very gloomy that day, too,--an old aunt of the
lady came,--came from New Orleans to pass a few days
with her niece,--and she found the latter in tears. She
had heard of her niece's prospective marriage; and as she
was a demonstrative old lady, and very sympathetic, she
both pitied her niece, and spared no pains in attempting
to console her, and finally won her great secret.

"La, me!" exclaimed the old aunt; "do tell--<i>is</i> that
<i>all</i> that's troubling you so? Now, do take heart. I tell
you we can get that sore spot fixed up,--cured in a mighty
short time. I understand all about it. Fact is, I've had
such an experience myself in my day, and I've known
others have the like, and I got it all made right, and they
did too, if there's any believin' folks; but some folks are
curious creatures--that's true, Mary," (for that's the niece's
first name); and she went on to tell her "as how" she didn't
believe in witchcraft, or in seers, or "clair-ry-voy-ants" (as
she called them), or in fortune-tellers, "either with the cards
or without them," nor "in them as sees into things through
crystals, and such like," as a general thing. But she did
believe that some folks had a magic about them, by which
they could peer into the future, and prevent things happening
that might otherwise occur. She was a very garrulous
old lady, it would seem, and overwhelmed her niece
with instances enough, which she had "known" to prove
valuable, of the mysterious "power of some people," to
establish a general rule in favor of all seers' pretensions.

The niece was just in the mood to believe in anything
that seemed likely to bring her any relief, and asked her
aunt for her advice in the premises, which was given, of
//307.png
.pn +1
course, and was to the effect that they should find out a
<i>good</i> fortune-teller, and visit her next day. But the time
was short, and they had no acquaintances of whom they
could inquire. The aunt sighed deeply over the fact that
New Orleans was so far off; "for if it wasn't, we would go
and visit old Aunt Betsy"--an aged negro woman--"right
off. She's always sure and certain. I've tried her
a hundred times."

"What, aunt! a hundred times?" asked Mary.

"Yes, yes, a full hundred times."

"Why, aunt, then I am afraid you do believe in fortune-tellers."

"No, no; I don't. I told you that I don't, generally
speaking; but Aunt Betsy is a wonder, if she is black.
<i>She</i> ain't any the worse for that, I tell you, no matter
what the rest of the blacks are."

Any one acquainted with the character of the people,
who, at the South, put their trust in prophetic old negroes
and negresses, need no further hint as to the superstitious
character of Mary's aunt. They are a peculiar class, the
like of whom is not to be found in all the world besides.
They are weaker than the idolaters of the East, and are
generally a sensuous, if not sensual, class, they who worship
these old negroes, and there are a great many of
them. The aunt was not only superstitious, but enthusiastic--one
of those magnetic creatures, who, at times, exercise
a good deal of influence--a sort of "psychologic"
power over others; and in Mary's state of mind, she was
not much disposed to resist the aunt's advisory suggestions.
She needed sympathy at the time, and was willing
to accept it in whatever form presented.

With no one to inquire of as to a "successful fortune-teller,"
the aunt and Mary consulted the newspapers, determining
to select among the advertisements the name
of the "medium," or "sight-seer," or "clairvoyant," or
what not, who appeared to reside in the most respectable
quarters; and they were not long in determining, through
//308.png
.pn +1
the columns of the Herald, upon a Mrs. Seymour, then residing
in Grand Street. This "Mrs. Seymour" was the
wife of a crafty Irishman, of much intelligence, and extremely
good address, by the name of Brady. This man
was capable of concocting dark designs; and although his
wife was also a cunning person, and was not lacking in
real skill and strategy, yet it was generally supposed,
as I learned on investigating this case, that he was the
subtle "power behind the throne" when any great cheat
or curious deviltry was performed by her. But she was
a "canny" woman, after all, and as mild and attractive,
when she pleased to be, as she was sharp and unscrupulous.
Long experience had given her great facility in
necromantic arts, and the smoothness of her tongue was
something remarkable. It is supposed by most people,
who are unacquainted with these sorcerers, that they are
both illiterate and unintelligent. They are usually ignorant
of books; but they are by no means lacking in intelligence,
cultivated and sharpened by a discipline which
books can hardly give.

"Mrs. Seymour" was the assumed name of the wife--her
advertising <i>sobriquet</i>--a name well chosen, since, unlike
her real name, it did not suggest her Irish origin, and
therefore forbid Irish servant girls from visiting her, and
leaving with her a dollar or two dollars a time for advice
on the subject of their lovers, marriages, or a "new place"
to work. The Irish in this country, at least, have no respect
for sorcerers of Irish birth. The name, too, sounds
not unaristocratic; something substantial about it; has not
the appearance of being assumed, like those of "Madame
Leclerque," "Madame Duponleau," and other high-sounding
aliases of some fat, dumpy English or Welsh woman,
or some dark weazen-faced Polish hag, whose real name is
perhaps Johnson, Jones, or Thomascowitch.

"Mrs. Seymour" was a middle-sized woman, not ugly
of features, not handsome, with a sort of mobile face,
which could easily assume any expression which her subtle,
//309.png
.pn +1
crafty mind might suggest. Her house was a decent
abode, pretty well furnished; and, in this respect, far above
the character of the houses which most "mediums" and
fortune-tellers inhabit, presenting a cosy, inviting appearance
in the parlor. Mr. Brady, a man of wholesome face
and good address, was usually at home to aid in entertaining
visitors, especially ladies, who called upon "Mrs. Seymour"
professionally.

To "Mrs. Seymour" went the aunt and Mary, and at
first had a "sitting" with her, in order to test her capacity
at fortune-telling. On entering the house, they had first
encountered the shrewd Mr. Brady, who probably at once
suspected that the younger woman was revolving matrimonial
matters in her mind, and having opportunity to
speak with his wife in private before she entered the
room, told her, probably, his suspicions. At all events,
Mrs. Seymour had hardly sitten down, and thrown herself
into her accustomed trance, before she told Mary that she
had come there upon a question of marriage, and that
there were troubles in the way, and invited her to free
her mind. The simple-hearted Mary and the credulous
aunt were taken aback at once by Mrs. Seymour's sudden
approach to the very subject on their minds, and the aunt
exclaimed, "There, Mary, I told you so!"

The ladies did "free their minds" immediately, and
Mrs. Seymour begged to be excused for a few moments.
She said it was a case involving nice points, and she
wished to act cautiously; that in cases of the kind, where
the happiness of parties hung for life upon a decision
which must be so soon made, she was in the habit of
taking counsel of her "heavenly Father," and in her private
oratory to approach him in prayer. She started from
the room, and then suddenly returned, and said, "Ladies,
perhaps you would like to see a beautiful '<i>prie-dieu</i>,'
which I have in my oratory; a beautiful present to me
by the Duke of Argyle, when I was visiting Scotland, in
honor of a successful clairvoyant discovery which, with
//310.png
.pn +1
the help of Almighty God, I was enabled to make for
him."

The ladies followed her up to the little "hall bedroom,"
so customary in certain New York houses, and which was
quite neatly fitted up. There was the <i>prie-dieu</i>--a thing
which these ladies had never seen, or indeed heard of before.
They asked "Mrs. Seymour" what it was for; and
she explained to them that it was a chair to pray in, and
showed them how to kneel and sit, and where to put the
prayer-book.

Duly they withdrew, greatly edified by the pious, good
lady's conduct, while she tarried for a while to "pray,"
and came down at last to the parlor with a very saintly
countenance on--quite "illumined" in fact. She had
been inspired with counsel how Mary was to proceed with
her coming husband, in order to increase and secure forever
his love. Mrs. Seymour had learned all she needed
to know from Mary's full confession, spiced with suggestions
by the garrulous aunt.

She had learned that Mary's coming husband was very
rich; and she began by saying, that on entering into married
life, any great disparities between the parties--in
riches, age, accomplishments, etc.--were apt to prove
disastrous in the end. The rich husband, for example,
would taunt his poor wife sometimes with her poverty,
and the young wife might throw the fact of age and infirmity
in the face of her old husband, or either accuse the
other of ignorance. All these things would bring severe
troubles in the end. But the greatest trouble frequently
came from disparity in social position--where a man or
woman of high station had married a partner of low station.
In this case she was glad to see that this trouble
would not exist. The parties were of equal rank in respectability
and social surroundings. The husband's great
riches were the only thing to fear. Better marry a poor
husband, and plod on with him, and make one's own fortune,
than marry a rich man whose love might soon cool.
//311.png
.pn +1
There would come a domestic hell between the parties:
among low people, quarrelling, and absolute fighting, now
and then; among people of higher grade, a genteel indifference,--no
ugly words, but cold, cruel demeanor, etc.,--worse,
a great deal, than actual physical violence through
which the angry passions would exhaust themselves, and
after which repentance and "making up" were frequent.
But in the other case,--in the higher grade,--no such
thing would occur as "making up," and the most luxuriant
home would become a prison, or a grave rather, of the
affections--a horrible life to lead, out of which there was
no escape for parties who valued public opinion, or who,
as in the case of a dependent wife, had no haven of peace
to resort to, no means of support--and much more said
Mrs. Seymour, in her grave, effective way.

So solemn was she that the timid, fearful Mary cried,
and the old aunt became all of a tremor, and poured forth
torrents of caressing words upon poor Mary. But Mrs.
Seymour relieved their distress to great extent, by informing
them that when at prayer, the "dear Almighty
God" (to use her own expression) had favored her with
a vision, which she had interpreted. There were many
ways, she said, to preserve a husband's or wife's love.
All these ways were well known to the scientific. They
were always effective, were these various means, when
properly applied. She could have told them at once, without
resorting to counsel with her "heavenly Father," of
what would probably be effective in this case; but she
was glad she had resorted to prayer first, because, although
she would have taken very much the same course pointed
out in the vision, yet she might not have been so thorough
in her counsel, and would not have felt such certainty or
confidence in it. The ladies lifted up their hands again,
and hung with confiding delight, and with believing smiles
upon their faces, upon every word Mrs. Seymour uttered.
She told them, that in answer to her prayer, she saw a
group of angels descending from the heavens. They wore
//312.png
.pn +1
beautiful robes of various colors. Here she stopped to
tell them that it was a popular fallacy to suppose that the
angels all wore white robes; that such a uniform would
be inconsistent with Nature's usual course; that the God
of Nature loved variety,--infinite variety,--and therefore
he had exemplified it all through his works. The
ladies were delighted with Mrs. Seymour's eloquent words,
and she went on to tell them that she saw these angels
decorating each other with amulets, and souvenirs, and
ornaments of all kinds, beautiful brilliants more dazzling
than earthly diamonds, etc., and she noticed that each
ornament was blessed by a beautiful priestess before it was
passed from one angel to the other, and when the latter
assumed it she observed that his or her face lighted up
with a new and glorious expression of love for the gems;
that these angels were of apparently different degrees of
age, which suited Mary to hear, of course.

Thus Mrs. Seymour went on with her pious rigmarole,
which she managed, by her cunning imagination, to make
very charming, and finally said that, though the vision was
easy enough of interpretation, yet, in this case of great
importance, she had prayed for an interpretation, and was
at once "impressed" with this solution. It would be wise
for Mary, she said, to put off all care from her mind, from
the present moment, with the belief that she should be
happy with her husband, as would be the case if she followed
the advice; she would retain his love forever. Marry
him on the day appointed, be cheerful and kind, and
have no unpleasant forebodings, as she need have none,
and then, as fast as she could collect together all valuables
which he had been in the habit of wearing on his
person, as ornaments, or carrying in his pocket, such as
watches, jewelry of all kinds, especially of the rich kinds,
such as diamonds, and all the money which he had <i>actually
handled</i> (for it was necessary, she said, that he must have
touched it, and it would not do for her to get a draft from
him, and go to the bank and draw it herself, unless she
//313.png
.pn +1
should afterwards put it in his hands, and naively ask him
to count it for her),--all these things she was to get, and
the more of them and the greater their value, the surer
would be the spell which was to be worked. These things,
as she procured them, she was from time to time to bring
to Mrs. Seymour, who would operate with them as in the
vision directed. The lady would then take them home
and put them in a box, and then Mrs. Seymour would visit
her house and charm the whole box, which the lady would
keep, for a few weeks, as near herself as she could all
the while without inconvenience, and the spell would thus
be worked. The ladies looked in wonder, and believed.
Mrs. Seymour charged them fifty dollars for her counsel;
but the ladies not chancing to have so much in their
purses, she consented to take twenty-five then, and wait
till after the marriage, and when Mary should bring the
first article to be charmed, for the other twenty-five dollars.
This was all fair, and pleased the ladies, who went
away happy, it seems.

The marriage took place. The old man having some
estates in Canada, which needed looking after, made his
bridal tour in the now Dominion of Canada; and with Quebec
as his central point, travelled about the province for
some three weeks, with his new wife.

He was very happy, and so was Mary. They returned
to New York duly, and in the course of a few weeks Mary,
now Mrs. Mary ----, visited Mrs. Seymour, with her first
batch of articles to be charmed. These were a watch,
a very elegant one, profusely ornamented with diamonds,
which had belonged to the old gentleman's former wife,
but which Mrs. Mary had discovered that he had sometimes
carried, and a large diamond ring which he had once
worn, but which, on account of an injury to the finger
which it fitted, he had laid aside, with some trinkets of value.
Taking these to her "oratory," Mrs. Seymour pretended
to have charmed them, and then brought them back to Mrs.
Mary, and told her to get a box of suitable size, and place
//314.png
.pn +1
them in it, also the other things that she should bring, to
get them charmed. While Mrs. Mary was consulting with
her in regard to the box she should get, Mrs. Seymour
happened to think of one which she had, and which she
would as lief give to Mrs. Mary as not, and she went to
her side-board drawer and brought a little square-shaped
enamelled <i>papier-maché</i> box, neat, but cheap; she said this
would do, and it could be sealed so easily when it should
be filled. Mrs. Mary wished to pay her for it, but Mrs.
Seymour would not allow her to do so; and the box, with
the watch, etc., in it, went off with Mrs. Mary, who had
paid Mrs. Seymour the other twenty-five dollars. Mrs.
Mary followed Mrs. Seymour's counsels as speedily as she
could, and was soon at the latter's house with the other
matters of jewelry, this time bringing a very valuable
brooch, which was once the property of the former wife;
and Mrs. Mary had a piece of her own cunning to tell Mrs.
Seymour.

In order that the brooch might come under the rule of
having been worn on the person of the husband, she had
pinned it on to his night-shirt when he was asleep, and
laid awake and watched it there for an hour or more. Mrs.
Seymour rewarded this piece of stratagem with her august
approval, and told Mrs. Mary that it would do just as
well to lay the things under his pillow, and if she found
anything more which he had not worn, to put it there.
She suggested that whole sets of silver spoons could be
placed there at any time; which was a happy thought for
Mrs. Mary, who wished to get all the value she could into
the box, and she told Mrs. Seymour that there was in
the house, but never used, a set of gold spoons, a present
from some of her husband's rich relatives. In time
these were in the box. But to make the matter sure as
to value, Mrs. Mary begged of her husband the sum of
two thousand dollars one day, when he had sold a piece of
real estate in Brooklyn, and realized some ten thousand
dollars advance over cost. This money was charmed and
//315.png
.pn +1
put into the box, and finally Mrs. Seymour was slyly taken
in a carriage to the house by Mrs. Mary, in order to put
on the finishing stroke, and seal up the box. She took her
wax and a peculiar seal with her; and Mrs. Mary and she,
being duly closeted, the box was nicely sealed up, with all
the valuables in it, money and all, amounting to about five
thousand dollars. Mrs. Seymour then wished to be left
alone in the room for a few moments, while she prayed,
and invoked a peculiar charm on the box. Mrs. Mary, of
course, consented. Presently Mrs. Seymour came out of
the room, handed her the box, and went with her to the bedroom
to see it properly deposited in its hiding-place,--all
this while the gentleman was growing better and better,
kinder and kinder, to his wife; and he was "splendid" to
begin with, she said. But this increased affection was
attributed to the charms. What would it not become if
these remained near her there in the box for two months,
as Mrs. Seymour directed?

After two months, Mrs. Seymour would call, if Mrs.
Mary had no occasion to call her before, which she was to
do, if her husband showed any signs of failing affection,
and would then open the box for Mrs. Mary; for it was
necessary, as a part of the work, that she should open the
box in such a way as not to break the spell. The two
months went past, and Mrs. Seymour did not call. Mrs.
Mary sent for her to come, but found that she had left that
house--gone to Brooklyn to live, somewhere. She tried
to hunt her up, but unavailingly; at last, after some three
months and a half had passed, she heard she was in Boston,
and Mrs. Mary made an errand on there, her indulgent
husband accompanying her, and there she privately
sought for Mrs. Seymour. But she could not find her,
and so let matters rest. But, eventually, her husband
telling some relative visiting him, about the gold spoons,
and seeking them to show him, failed to find them; and
Mrs. Mary got very nervous over it, and at last told him
that they were not stolen, as he suspected, but where they
//316.png
.pn +1
were; and after much mental struggle, told him how they
came there. He was delighted with her great desire to
preserve his love, for it was a most genuine case of deep
affection on his part; but he gently laughed at her, nevertheless,
and declared that Mrs. Seymour was a great cheat;
that she had, by her chicanery, won the fifty dollars; "and
she found you and your aunt such easy disciples," said he,
"the great wonder is, that she did not abstract more money
from you. But we'll open the box now, and get the spoons,
and you'll do what you please with the rest;" and they
opened the box, breaking the peculiar seals, and found----nothing
but a few small stones and bits of iron, done up
in cotton-wool, to keep them from rattling, and weighing,
perhaps, as much as the contents supposed to be there.

It was evident then to the old gentleman, that the woman
must have brought a box with her on her last visit
to the house, a fac-simile of the one which Mrs. Mary had
filled with valuables and money. The things were of such
a nature, that the old gentleman said it was of no use to
try to hunt up Mrs. Seymour and get them back. She
would deny all; besides, there was the risk of his wife's
being exposed in her foolish credulity, and he wouldn't
have that known for ten times the value of the property
lost, he said. So they agreed to let it pass.

But the thing preyed on Mary's mind. She wrote to
her aunt,--who had then gone away,--a doleful story,
and upbraided her partly for her connection in the matter.
The poor old aunt was sadly affected, and insisted that
some step ought to be taken to find Mrs. Seymour, and to
punish her; and Mary felt so too, and talked about it till
the old gentleman thought he would take some step about
it, and he consulted me. <target id='tn316'>"I have devised some plans; but
they are good for nothing, and I've come over to tell you
the funny story, and see what you think of it."

Such was the substance of the lawyer's tale; and we
had a good laugh over it, and contrived together what
might be done. I told him it was a hopeless case, pretty
//317.png
.pn +1
much, unless we could find Mrs. Seymour, and these things
in her possession, which it was absurd to expect, unless,
by inquiring of the parties who suffered the loss, I could
learn more about the things taken. We both resolved that
the watch was too valuable to be destroyed, and there
might be other things saved, and sold, perhaps, here and
there. Accident might give a clew to the whereabouts
of Mrs. Seymour and the things.

The lawyer visited the parties, and got their consent to
take me into the case, and I visited them--learned what
things were taken; examined the box, and found on it a
peculiar mark, which I copied exactly; and I also got an
accurate description of the watch, with the maker's name,
the number of the watch, and so forth. This was a superb
affair for a lady's watch, and was worth, at least, with its
chain and diamonds, eight hundred dollars. I concluded
that it was not probably destroyed. It had perhaps been
sold or pawned; and I made close search in many jewelers'
establishments and pawn shops for it in New York, and
not finding it, advertised for it in the Boston and Philadelphia
papers, stating that the subscriber had such and
such a watch, and would give a thousand dollars for its
mate, "No. 1230," if in good condition, and added that it
was known to be in this country. I signed "Henry Romaine
Brown, Agent for the Earl of Derby," and made
an address in Liverpool, England, and in New York. The
object of this the reader can readily see. I soon got a
letter from Baltimore, and in consequence found the watch.
It had passed through several hands to the owner, the
wife of a Mr. Hurlbut, a large merchant. He had answered
the advertisement out of respect to the Earl of
Derby(!), with no suspicion whatever that the watch had
been stolen. Mr. Hurlbut required the property to be
thoroughly proven as that of the old gentleman in New
York, which it was fortunately easy to do, as the bill of it
from the importing house had been saved. Still it was
necessary to prove the theft, for it might have been sold;
//318.png
.pn +1
and here was a chance for a lawsuit, which the New York
man did not want.

But Mr. Hurlbut was willing to advance some money,
while he held on to the watch, to ferret out Mrs. Seymour.
"Perhaps she could settle the matter, or had some relatives
who could" he said. My client, too, took courage,
and resolved to spend some money in the matter, and I
went to work to find Mrs. Seymour. Meanwhile, through
the peculiar mark on the bottom of the box, I managed
to find out where Mrs. Seymour had purchased it, and
learned, as I supposed before, that she had bought two on
the same occasion; and, fortunately, I found that she had,
when selecting the boxes, occupied a good deal of time,
giving the clerk a great deal of vexation, and he felt sure
he should know her. Besides, she had offered a counterfeit
bill in payment for them; and when informed that the
bill was bad, had declared her surprise, and rummaged her
purse for good money, without finding enough into twenty-five
cents, which she said she would call and pay next
day, and so was allowed to take away the boxes. So the
clerk thought he should surely know her, although the
lady did not call the next day. I tracked Mrs. Seymour
from her place in Grand Street, where her sign still remained,
and business was carried on by a younger medium,
who assumed her name, and divided the spoils with her,
probably, over to Brooklyn, down to Philadelphia, where
she sold the watch, and up to Boston.

Brady, her husband, had gone the rounds with her. I
searched every possible place in Boston, and engaged a
detective there. I had been able to secure several photographs
of the woman, and of her husband, in New York;
and with one of these, the Boston detective was able to
make her out, he thought, one day. He followed the woman,
and at last abandoned the "game," when he found
that she was in company with people of high character,
and entered with them one of the finest residences in Vernon
Street; and, moreover, was told by a servant of the
//319.png
.pn +1
house that she was a Mrs. "<i>Bradley</i>," from Portland, Me.
He concluded that he was mistaken. We finally learned
Brady was not like "Seymour," an assumed name, and
that the husband had wealthy relatives in Boston; and
then conceiving that the detective might not have been
mistaken in supposing he recognized "Mrs. Seymour," we
laid <target id='tn319'>siege to the Vernon Street house, till we satisfied ourselves
that "Mrs. Bradley" and "Mrs. Seymour" were
one and the same. But how did she get there? Boston
is full of people, in high rank, who are spiritualists, and
who keep "mediums" for themselves, and do not visit the
advertising mediums, to be found there in such numbers,
even to this day.

We traced Brady out too, and found him a chief clerk in
a house on Washington Street, in which his brother was a
partner. My friend, the detective, made his acquaintance,
and managed to learn from him that he was worth several
thousand dollars. He had two building lots in New York,
which he had bought for a song, some four years before,
but which would be worth, he said, fifty thousand dollars
in less than ten years. My friend, the detective, wished
to buy these, and they got on such good terms that Brady,
in the course of a few days, accepted his invitation to "go
down to York," on his, the detective's, expense, and when
there showed him the lots, and told him confidentially that
they stood in his wife's name, as he had failed in business
some years before.

We thought we had enough materials together to commence
the attack, and my friend, the lawyer, managed to
bring a suit in such a way that the building lots were
attached, and then wrote me at Boston to "go ahead." I
proceeded at once to the house in Vernon Street, and inquired
for Mrs. Bradley. She had, meanwhile, moved her
quarters to the residence of a distinguished clerical gentleman
in Hancock Street, whose wife was a spiritualist,
and a "medium" besides. I called upon Mrs. Bradley there,
and having a private "seance" with her as a "medium,"
//320.png
.pn +1
until I thought I had studied her enough, told her that I
was very much pleased with the communication she had
brought me from my "deceased wife" (who was then living
in New York, one of the healthiest and jolliest women
in the land, and likely to live, perhaps, till the "spirits"
are all dead); and that now I had a communication to
make to her; and that I did not wish to disturb her peace,
or expose her conduct in life, and should not do so if she
kept quiet. She wanted to know "what in the name of
goodness" I talked to her in that way for. I told her it
wasn't I that was talking, that I was only the "medium"
through whom Mrs. Mary ---- (using the full name now),
of New York, was speaking, and that she had come to ask
her what she did with that little charm box, and its contents,
for which she substituted the box of stones and iron.

"Mrs. Bradley," <i>alias</i> "Seymour," turned pale as a sheet,
and <i>tried</i> to swoon. She was a little too quick in the play,
and hadn't declared, as her true rôle was, that she didn't
know what I meant; so she waked up, and declared it; and
I told her to be tranquil; that we had got the property all
attached; knew where the watch was, and had her properly
identified on the day she bought the <i>two</i> boxes at
such and such a store. I looked her calmly in the eye
while I said this; and she was not at a loss to discover
that I knew what I was saying.

"Now madam," said I, "all that we want is, that you
save us the trouble and time of a suit. We shall arrest
you, and have you taken to New York, and tried criminally,
as well as prosecute the civil suit, unless you are
willing to settle the matter quietly; and I can't give you
any time. An officer is awaiting my call close by here;"
(indeed, he was in the porch of the house at the time) "and
unless you are willing to get your bonnet and shawl, and
accompany me at once to Mr. Brady, and settle this matter,
we will arrest you, and take you where you'll be kept
safe till we get a requisition for you from the governor of
New York."
//321.png
.pn +1

"Mrs. Seymour" had had, as I knew before, more or
less to do with legal matters, and she saw the force of
things at once. She accompanied me to the store where
her husband was engaged, the officer following at a proper
distance; and I managed to cool the husband's assumed
wrath when I came to tell him of the charges against her,
he asseverating her virtue and innocence in terms that savored
of Milesian profanity.

"Mr. Brady," said I, "I am glad to see a man so brave
a champion of his wife; but you are only making matters
worse. <i>She</i> don't deny the charges; the property is under
attachment, and the officer is at hand, and she will be
arrested in less than five minutes" (taking out my watch
to look at the time), "unless you cool down and come to
terms. You, too, know all about the business, and would
probably prefer to escape arrest also--wouldn't you?"

He looked at me for an instant, then at his wife, and
said,--

"Well, I suppose we'll have to give in for now; but
I'll carry the matter under protest, up to the United States
Supreme Court before I'll be trampled on."

This boast seemed to relieve him, and we all left the
store and went to my friend's, the detective's, office on
Tremont Street, where the preliminaries of a settlement
were entered into. The watch we wanted back at any
rate; the rest of the jewelry was scattered here and there,
only that Mrs. Seymour had preserved a nice string of
pearls, worth some three hundred dollars. There was not
much "higgling" over the estimate of value of the various
articles, and the two thousand in money, of course,
went in at its value. In all, the bill footed up about thirty-six
hundred and fifty dollars, besides five hundred--(which
was too little)--for the expenses we had been at.
Suffice it that those building lots in New York changed
hands soon after, "in due legal form," and that a thousand
dollars in money besides left Brady's pocket, and found
its way where it could pay "expenses," etc. The building
//322.png
.pn +1
lots have sold since for far more than Brady's estimate of
"fifty thousand dollars in ten years." The old gentleman
and his wife Mary were delighted with my success: of
course Mr. Hurlbut delivered up the watch for the price
he paid for it, which it was proper he should ask, inasmuch
too, as Brady had given us the money, or its equivalent
for it, and more too, and Mrs. Mary said she should
carry it till her dying day, "to ward off mediums and sorcerers,
as the Puritans nailed horse-shoes to door-posts
as protection against witches"; and I venture she's faithfully
wearing it now for that purpose, and as a souvenir
of the old gentleman, her good husband, who is now dead.

I was so much pleased with the cunning and skilful
address of Mrs. Seymour, that I cultivated her acquaintance,
and by a "close study" managed to learn a good deal
of her art, and came to a knowledge of the great extent
to which mediums are consulted by people of the first
classes; and was astonished to find how readily they fall,
through the superstitious element in their composition,
victims to the sorcerer's arts. It would require volumes
to cite the instances which occur yearly in New York city
alone. Boston is not a whit behind in this, notwithstanding
she boasts herself the Athens of America; but, perhaps,
she so boasts because she worships so many different idols--has
as many gods as the Greek mythology embraced.
In proportion to her population her dupes of superstition
are more numerous than those of New York.
//323.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=dishonestclerk
THE DISHONEST CLERK, AND THE FATAL SLIP OF PAPER.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
IN AN UGLY MOOD WITH MYSELF--A VISIT FROM A CINCINNATIAN--A LOSS
DETAILED--THE FATE OF A BANKING-HOUSE RESTING ON "COLLATERALS"
STOLEN, WHICH MUST BE RECOVERED--A LAWYER FIGURES IN THE
MATTER AND IS BAFFLED--THE THIEVES SPECULATING FOR A SETTLEMENT--THE
SCHEME LAID FOR THEIR DETECTION--A BUSINESS VISIT TO
THE BANKING-HOUSE--THE CHIEF CLERK SENT TO CHICAGO ON BUSINESS--A
SEARCH REVEALING LOVE LETTERS, AND A LOVELY LITERARY
LADY--ON TRACK OF MYSTERIOUS "PAPERS"--THE FATAL SLIP OF
PAPER--THE WAY THE STOLEN BONDS WERE RECOVERED--THE CHIEF
CLERK, AND HOW HE WAS "ENLIGHTENED"--A NOVEL AND QUIET
ARREST IN A CARRIAGE--THE CLERK'S CONFEDERATE CAUGHT--THE
PROPERTY RESTORED--THE SCAMPS DECAMP--THE INNOCENT LITERARY
LADY'S EYES OPENED.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>I was</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
I was
.if-
sitting in my office one day, meditating over a case
I had had in hand to work up, for some four months, off and
on. An hour before one of the parties interested in the
matter, and who had furnished considerable money to
press the investigation of the affair had left my office in a
state of dissatisfaction, evident enough to me, although his
interest compelled him to express in words his pleasure at
the course I had taken, and his hope that my theory of the
case would soon be worked into practical demonstration.
But I fancied, nevertheless, that he had <target id='tn323'>secretly resolved
to abandon the matter, or to abandon me, and procure some
one else to undertake the job; and I was conjuring in my
mind who this might be, whom he would secure to aid him;
and resolving myself into a happy state of mind that this
point, namely, that he could find nobody who could or
//324.png
.pn +1
would for the like slight encouragement I had had, undertake
the affair, and into a somewhat unhappy state of
mind on this other point, namely, that I had been induced
to enter upon the work upon too slight amount of facts,
and accusing myself of stupidity in so doing, I had resolved
that I would never undertake a like case, involving so
much work, with such little probability of success, for
there are some things which may baffle the oldest detective's
skill as surely as the simplest peasant's brain. I
was in an ugly mood with myself, when there entered my
office an excited looking man, who accosted me--"You
are Mr. ----?"

"Yes, sir."

"The very man that worked up that case for Coe and
Phillips, two years ago?"

"Yes, sir; I suppose I am <i>the</i> man," said I, emphasizing
the article "the;" "but what of it, what if I did?" said I, in
a mood which I was conscious was not very attractive, and
with a look, I suppose, not over-enticing, for the man
"hitched" unpleasantly in his chair, and seemed confused.
"What of it? Why do you ask?"

He still looked disconcerted, but taking from his pocket
a file of papers, carefully thumbed them over, and drew
out from them a letter of introduction to me from Mr. Coe,
in which Mr. Coe said that his friend had an affair on hand
in which he thought I could serve him, and he had commended
me to his friend.

"Ah, you are a friend of Mr. Coe? Well, I see this note
is dated over a month ago. Why have you delayed to
bring it to me before?"

"O, I'll explain. I live in Cincinnati, and was here on
business at the time, stopping at Mr. Coe's. I told him my
story, got this note from him, and intended to see you in a
day or two; but a telegram called me home,"--(or "telegraph
message," as he said, for this was before the
days when some happy genius coined the felicitous word
"telegram"), <target id='tn324'>"and I have come again on business, and so
have brought the note."
//325.png
.pn +1

"Is it in Cincinnati that I must work, if I enter upon the
matter you may have to relate to me?"

"Yes, sir, I suppose so; in fact, yes, of course, for there
the robbery was committed."

"O, a robbery, eh? Well, I don't think you had better
tell me of it. It's too far away, and I have enough to do
here; more than I wish I had of the kind which falls to my
lot these days, and you can get detectives in Cincinnati
who can afford to work for you cheaper than I could."

"There you are mistaken," said he; "I cannot get any
detectives in Cincinnati who can do me any good. I tried
the best, and they were baffled, and so I had told Mr. Coe
when he recommended you."

"I am greatly obliged to Mr. Coe for his good opinion,
but your case is a desperate one, if the best detectives of
Cincinnati have had it in hand; and I suspect I could not
do you the least good. You'll waste your money, I fear."

The man looked for an instant as if he were shot; and
then, suddenly recovering himself, he exclaimed, with an
energy and fierceness of purpose which pleased me, "But,
sir, something <i>must</i> be done, and we must spend all our
ready money or go to the wall, at any rate; things are
getting complicated in our business, and we must fail
in more than one way, <i>if</i> we do not succeed."

"You say 'we.' Are there others involved besides
yourself?"

"Yes; my partners, two of them."

"I see that Mr. Coe has not told me your business,
merely calling you his 'friend.'"

"Yes, I suppose he thought best to let me tell you my
whole story myself; and I would like to do that, although
you seem unwilling, sir."

I smiled, and said, "O, no, sir, not unwilling, for it is my
business to listen to all such things; but you found me in a
grum mood when you came. Have you never passed days
in which you wished you were out of your present business,
and in some other that you envied."
//326.png
.pn +1

"Yes, yes," said he excitedly; <target id='tn326'>"and of late I've wished so
all the while, for reasons I shall give you."

"Well, go on with your story, I am a good listener."

"The whole matter is in a nutshell," said he, "so far as
the crime committed is concerned, and I'll tell you that first.
We are bankers, and have lost out of our safe ten thousand
dollars in money, and negotiable paper, securities,
collaterals, and the like for over thirty thousand more.
We have obligations maturing; some have matured already,
and we have been pinched to meet them, and the rest we
cannot meet without these securities;" and then he went
on to tell me when the loss was discovered, etc.

"Well," I broke in, a little impatiently, "if you have <i>lost</i>
those papers, what do you propose? To find them?"

"Yes, to get them back; that's what we want. The
money has gone, of course,--we don't expect that or any
part of it,--but we must have the papers--the collaterals;
and here I must tell you, that about a week after our
loss we received a note from a lawyer in Cincinnati, saying
that he had been visited by parties claiming to reside in
Kentucky, asking him to communicate with us, and saying
that they were ready to deliver up 'those papers,' which
they knew to be valuable to us, upon our coming to the
terms which they left with him to communicate to us orally;
that he did not know whether the story was all a hoax or
not, but if we knew what it meant, we might call on him,
and he would narrate the rest. I hurried to see him on
receipt of note. He was a stranger to me personally, but
I knew him by repute as a lawyer of fair standing, and a
man of good social status. When he came to tell me the
offer which these parties made, which was to deliver up the
papers through their attorney--himself--for fifty per
cent. of their face value (for at this point I had only told
him that I knew what the parties meant, and had come to
hear their offer), I asked, 'Do you know for whom you
are dealing? Do you know how these papers came into
the possession of the parties?'"
//327.png
.pn +1

"No; I know nothing of them, more than I tell you.
But explain to me how the papers came into their
possession."

"By robbery," said I; "those parties are burglars or
worse."

"Robbery!" he exclaimed, "and the villains wished to
make me a middle-man in the transaction! Tell me all
about it, and we'll see if we can't turn the game upon
them. Consider me your attorney; it shall cost you nothing,--the
scoundrels!"--and he brought his fist down
upon his table with a blow that made it quiver. "If I've
got to that pass," said he, "that scoundrels dare approach
me in this way, it is time I give myself a close examination,
and reform, if need be. Please to tell me all about the
affair."

"I told him the facts of our loss, and our situation; how the
money and papers must have been taken out of our safe by
some one who had obtained knowledge of the numbers of
the permutation lock; and he asked at once, as you will do,
about the clerks, my partners, and so forth, and said some
one of them was the villain. But no matter for this now.
We laid plans which failed; and he concluded that after
all, it must be the work of some one in the office, but how
to catch him, was the question; and I cannot think that
any of my partners or my clerks is the man, for we have
exhausted all schemes in trying to fix the crime on any of
them, and failed signally."

"Well, is that all you've got to tell me?"

"No; I've not told you my story yet but in part.
When shall I begin again?"

"When you please; but first tell me, perhaps, about
your partners, and your clerks, each by himself; who
he is, how long he has been with you, and what his age,
his habits,--all about him."

So Mr. Redfield--(the reader understands always that
assumed names are given in these narratives, where there
exists a proper reason for so doing)--Mr. Redfield, as we
//328.png
.pn +1
will call him, went into a minute description of the men,
each by himself, and I confess I was baffled. I said to
him that it must be that some one of those was the guilty
party, yet that nothing he had told me would allow me to
suspect one of them for a moment; that my impression of
the guilt of one of them was solely the result of the common-sense
reflection that somebody who understood the
safe-lock, with its numbers, must be the man who took the
money and papers: that was all. And in fact I suppose it
was, because the case at this point became so desperate,
or difficult of solution, that I undertook it all; for if I
could have hit upon some expedient which would seem to
me likely to work out the problem, I should, in my state
of mind at the time, have given Mr. Redfield the advantage
of it, for a small counsel fee at most, and declined to
go on; but it was just enough unsolvable at this point to
vex me, and pique my pride. I did not wonder that the
best detectives in Cincinnati had failed, for I could easily
see that the scoundrels had only to keep these papers hid
in some unsearchable spot, and exercise ordinary care--indeed
be quite careless--and never be found out, unless
their greed should at last betray them.

It was evident to me, from what Mr. Redfield said, that
the parties had become suspicious of the lawyer they visited,
for some reason; for they never visited him again,
and neglected to answer a rather ingenious advertisement
that he published in one of the papers. But they had
again managed to communicate with Mr. Redfield, and
repeated their offer; and had sent him the form of an
advertisement to put in the paper, if he concluded to
accept. But he delayed beyond the day they named,
unwilling to accept, and still hopeful of detecting the villains,
and getting back the full papers for nothing; and
thinking better of it, a day or two after, he had published
the advertisement, but they had not regarded it;
probably, as I judged, because they thought he had laid
some plan to trap them. So when he went, "armed to
//329.png
.pn +1
the teeth," he said, out to a lonely place, as indicated in
their letter, about five miles, to meet somebody, there
to make further arrangements, nobody came.

They were very wary then, and it was evident that they
would, as they threatened in their note,--for the writer
represented that there were two of them,--destroy the
papers unless they got their price for them, and in a
manner, too, secure to themselves. They could "afford,"--the
wretches!--to lose the papers, for they had made
ten thousand dollars in money, at any rate, they kindly
wrote.

I insisted that this mode of proceeding on their part
indicated an acquaintance with the bankers' business,--showed
that they knew the great value of these papers to
the firm,--and that this was a further reason for suspecting
some one in the office. But Mr. Redfield persisted in
believing that the Cincinnati detective had settled that
point against my opinion.

Well, it was agreed that I should go on and take my
own way to work up the matter, and Mr. Redfield left.
I followed him in a day or two, with my first plans
matured, and with all such implements, clothes, etc., for
disguises which I thought I might need, and met him at a
place appointed. My first course was to go into the banking
office, with papers in hand of business to be done with
the chief, Mr. Redfield; to be delayed there with him talking
a long while over the matter of loans on some Western
lands, and to engage his assistance in raising capital for a
manufacturing concern to be established at Minneapolis,
Minnesota. His partners were to be kept profoundly ignorant
of my real character, and one of them was to be called
into our conference regarding the lands, etc., whenever I
indicated. This was the plan I made for getting a chance
to slyly study the clerks and the younger partner--for it
was out of the question that the older partner could be
engaged in the theft.

I went to the banking-house as arranged, called for Mr.
//330.png
.pn +1
Redfield, gave him my name; "made his acquaintance,"
etc., rather rapidly; and while I was doing so, cast a listless
glance around me, and chanced to find the chief clerk's
eyes staring at me in a manner not merely of ordinary
curiosity. There was a gleam in them which I did not
like, and in an instant I changed our plan of operations,
and said, "Mr. Redfield, can't I see you in private?"--taking
an easy-going look about the room, and not neglecting
to take in the clerk in the sweep of my eye. He was
writing, and there was a nervousness about the shoulders,
a flush in the face, and his lips seemed much compressed.
"Guilt there," said I to myself, as Mr. Redfield stepped
into the private room.

The door was closed by Mr. R----, who asked, "Why
do you change the programme? What have you seen?"

"Enough," said I; "and now the question is how well
can you play your part? I know that a man in your office
is the guilty party."

Mr. Redfield looked a little astounded at my rapid operations,
and replied, "Well, you are to work up the case
according to your own methods; but you surprise me."

"Well," said I, "let me alone, then; let's talk up the
Western lands, etc.;" and we did--I laughing outright,
immoderately at times, telling Mr. Redfield a story or two,
which made him laugh in real earnest; and after we'd
fixed up a plan, he went out smiling, asked his older partner
to come in to see me, saying, "He's the queerest speculator
I ever saw; come in, and see if we can do anything
for him." And the man came in. We talked, could not
get near a bargain, and I finally left the bank, saying to
Mr. Redfield that I'd "write in a week or so; perhaps
they'd think better of the offer."

I was not at a loss to see, by the clerk's countenance
and manner as I went out, that he was at ease again--which
was all I wanted to then effect.

Mr. Redfield and I met that night in a place appointed.
He told me they'd had much fun in the office over the
//331.png
.pn +1
"queer speculator," and that his partner had no suspicion
of my real business at all; and we entered into a serious
conversation. I told him that the chief clerk was the
guilty man in my opinion, and that I should proceed upon
that theory, and pursue it till forced to give up in that
direction, and then drop the matter; that there was no use
of attempting anything without the clerk in the programme.

We talked over the matter, and I learned where the
clerk kept his private rooms--for he boarded at a hotel,
and roomed in a block of business offices and dormitories;
and what at first surprised me was to learn that he had
left much better rooms within a month or so, since the
robbery, and taken up with poorer ones. Mr. Redfield
could give me no information as to his habits, save what
he judged and what the detectives had reported--all good.
But somehow I suspected that there must be a woman
involved in some way--a mistress, perhaps, whose extravagance
had led astray the clerk, whom we will call Childs,
to need more money than he could legitimately make.
So I told Mr. Redfield that we must search Childs's room
and private papers, if he had any; and it was arranged
that Childs should be sent on business to Chicago for two
or three days. Mr. Redfield had no difficulty in arranging
that, and Childs departed, highly honored with his chief's
confidence.

We managed without much trouble to get into Childs's
room, where everything but his trunks were first searched,--not
excepting the minutest scraps of letters in a wastebasket,--where
I found evidences of female correspondence.
Further search among some books, on a little
shelf at the top of a clothes-press or "closet," revealed some
more in the same handwriting--sweet little <i>billets-doux</i>,
longer letters, etc.,--all passionate, very,--sometimes
complaining, etc.

None of these had envelopes, and I therefore judged that
they were written in the city, and sent through the post
office, and that Childs probably always, at once, destroyed
//332.png
.pn +1
the envelopes. I should say that none, except some evidently
old ones, had envelopes. There was no date or
place, save "My little room,"--"Our dear boudoir," or
something like that,--and sometimes a further day,--"Thursday
Morning,"--"Monday Evening." It was evident
to me that the charmer lived in the city somewhere;
and I had already made up my mind that she must be
tracked out as the first step, when, turning over a letter
from this female, the rich, passionate, burning language of
which, well-expressed, had led me on, I came to the conclusion,
and found--"I have not received pay yet for that
article. R---- must not think that he can neglect me as
he did Hattie; I will be paid for what I write--something,
at least. I guess we shall have to visit him together;"
and with very affectionate words of parting, the letter
closed. And then came a P. S. "Every day I grow
more uneasy about <i>those papers</i>. I wish you would take
them away. What if I should suddenly die, and they
should be found with me? You said they were very valuable--and
you may lose them. I should regret that.
Come <i>to-night</i>, dearest."

Ah, ha! here was a literary lady,--a contributor to the
story or other papers,--wrote a good hand, and in good
style of composition; was evidently on loving terms with
Childs. I was in doubt whether mistress or only ardent
lover; could not tell that till I should see her, if then.
She must be seen. How to find her? Easy enough, perhaps,
but maybe not. We left Mr. Childs's room in good
order, and separated for the night, I giving Mr. Redfield
no more insight into the modes I intended to pursue next
day than necessary.

The next morning I started for the newspaper offices
with a portion of one of the letters I had found, made a
proper story of wishing to engage the literary services of
the writer of the letter if I could find her, but that I
knew not her name; as her friend, who had given me the
portion of the letter to show her style, and had not yet
//333.png
.pn +1
given me her name, had been called off to New York by
telegraph, I found,--wanted to find her that day.

At the first office I entered nobody could tell me anything.
But on entering the second one, and finding the
associate editor, and asking him if he recognized that writing,
he looked up and smiled, as if he thought I had a joke
for him.

"I guess I do," said he.

"Well," said I, "there's a dispute about it."

"Let's see," said he, in a hasty, nervous way, snatching
it from my hand, and glancing at it again. "No dispute
about it; that's our ---- ----" (using her <i>nom de plume</i>,
which I won't repeat, as she is probably living, and many
old friends might recognize her in this tale, and learn more
than they are entitled to know).

"Where can I find her?" said I; "I want to see her
about some writing."

"All right," said he, making some marks on a paper,
which I found to be name of street and number of house.
"There's where she was the last I knew of her, two months
ago. I think you can find her through that."

"Would you give me a note to her, as I am a stranger?"

"Why yes, such as I could. I don't know your name;
but stay--no," said he; "give me that paper again;"
and taking it, he put his initials to it, and the name of
office and date of day. "That will be enough--good as a
more formal note," said he; and he caught up his pen, and
proceeded as if something was on his mind. "You must
excuse me, sir; I have a great deal to do to-day. Can I
assist you any further now?"

I replied, "No; I thank you for your courtesy;" and
bowed myself out. I was as confident now that I should
trap Childs as if the thing was done; but there were two
of them, and they must both be caught. Childs could not
be carrying on this correspondence with the lawyer and
writing to Mr. Redfield, that was patent. I would watch
Childs that night, and see if he went to the lady's residence.
//334.png
.pn +1
He did go, and as they took a walk out, I saw her,--got
a good view of her face, and made up my mind that
she was innocent of any intelligent complicity in the matter.
I liked her looks very much. She was one of those
impulsive, earnest creatures, who, when they love, love
desperately, but who know not how to hate, as some
women know, who also know how to love intensely,--a
miserable class of women, in my opinion, although novelists
love to paint them, and these women themselves are
ever boastful of their twofold power of love and hate,--a
mean boast of a mean character of soul. I saw that
she loved Childs, and I was sure she respected him, and
what I should do I knew not exactly; but following them
in their walk and back, and waiting till he left her, and
went on his way to his office, had given me much time to
think, and I had resolved upon a course which I thought
the next day would see consummated; when, returning to
my quarters, I found a note from Mr. Redfield, begging me
to meet him at a certain place that night,--by no means to
sleep without seeing him. He would be there at such an
hour, and at such other hours till he met me. Something
important had happened.

I sought Mr. Redfield as requested; found that he had
that afternoon received a note from the parties, again
requesting him to meet them, or one of them, next day, at a
place near Covington, Kentucky, and to come prepared to
"take up the papers, according to our offer," in the afternoon,
at six of the next day. Mr. R---- was greatly excited;
said that this was their "last call," as they expressed
it; that the papers would then be destroyed; "and that
will be the last of our house," he tremblingly muttered.

I had been looking the letter over carefully meanwhile,
not at all disturbed, for I felt that Childs would not long
be out of our hands, when I chanced to reflect that the
paper on which it was written was like some of that on
which the lady's letters to Childs were written; and I said
to myself, probably he has supplied himself and her some
//335.png
.pn +1
time with the same kind of paper; but this is not his or
her handwriting. "No, she's innocent," I muttered to myself;
"I am satisfied of that;" but the paper was like, and
that, though a slight thing, helped to steady me in my
opinion of his guilt. I handed the letter to Mr. Redfield
to replace,--he having taken it from the envelope before
giving it to me,--when, placing it back, a small slip fell
out of the envelope as he turned it upside down.

"What's this?" said I, as I picked it up; "we must scan
everything."

It was a narrow strip, and on it was written, "My dearest
A----." (It was the lady's name, as it proved.) I was
astounded, for I had seen Childs's writing, and this was
like it for all the world. It was his, indeed--so Mr. Redfield
decided. But how came it in there? When Mr. Redfield
opened his letter it had not fallen out. He had cut
the end of the envelope. I took the envelope, and rounding
it out, peered in, and satisfied myself, from its shape,
that the writer had done what I frequently do, with the
old-fashioned envelopes especially,--put in a piece of paper
to keep the gluten from sticking to the letter, as it will,
when wet and sealed, in many kinds of envelopes. In
handling the envelope, and opening it a little to put back
the contents, this paper, if stuck at all, had "chipped off."
But how came the address there in Childs's hand? Either
the letter had been written in a poorly-lighted place, or a
careless or drunken confederate had slipped the strip we
found into the letter, without noting both sides. But
really <i>how</i> it came there I did not care--it was there.

"Mr. Redfield," said I, "that clerk's game is up. Give
me the letter; ask no questions, but to-morrow morning,
as soon as he comes in, make occasion to send him off on
business which shall detain him till into the afternoon, if
you can; or provide business for him here that shall occupy
him beyond noon-time. Better send him out of town.
I want to get over to-morrow noon."

Mr. Redfield said that fortunately he could send him
//336.png
.pn +1
out of town to see parties about a mortgage, and he would
send somebody along with him,--his servant,--and tell
him to be sure to not get in before two or three. The
boy will do what I say, and ask no questions and tell no
tales. My word is law with him, and Childs will have to
walk back twelve miles, or hire somebody to bring him
in, for the boy won't come till I tell him <target id='tn336'>to.

Next morning I was up betimes. Childs was out early
before going to the office, taking a morning walk with
his lady. He carried no bundle away from there, and I
tracked him to the office. I felt safe now: and now for
the final work, I thought, for I was sure that Redfield
would pack off Childs duly, and the coast would be clear.
I had gotten possession of the lady's name meanwhile,
and proceeded to her boarding-place, called for her, introduced
myself, talked with her about literary matters in
my own way, not at great length, and was delighted with
the innocence of the girl. I had formed no fixed mode of
procedure when I entered the house, but I was resolved
to wait till I saw her, and the longer I talked with her the
more convinced was I that she was innocent and artless, and
that a pretty direct way was the best to approach her by.

So I said, "Well, you'll pardon me, Miss ----, but Mr.
Childs told me I would be pleased to chat with you, and I
have--"

"What! you know Mr. Childs? He's always saying
flattering things of me."

"O, is he? Well, perhaps he didn't say anything
especial to me, then; but I was going to say that I called
on business. He's going out of town to-day, and he had
to start earlier than he expected; just gone; wasn't going
till afternoon--"

"Yes, he told me he was going over to Covington in
the afternoon," she broke in.

"Yes," said I, "and he said that he wanted you to give
me <i>those papers</i>; said you'd understand what he meant.
I am to meet him, and this, he said, would be enough
//337.png
.pn +1
word for you" (handing her the slip of paper, 'My dearest
A----.') <target id='tn337'>"He was in haste." She took it, blushed, and said,
"Yes, this is his writing. He writes nicely--doesn't
he? Excuse me, I will be gone but a moment," and she
hied up stairs to her room, as unsuspecting as a dove. I
was surprised at the success of my simple stratagem, but
I had others behind it, which would have worked had that
failed. She came down stairs, bringing a nicely sealed
package.

"That is what he wants," said she. "You will be
careful of it, of course, or he would not have sent you.
You are his friend--a mysterious man I've heard him
speak of; and I must tell you," she said, laughing heartily,
"that I've told him I did not like that friend very well,
keeping him away from me so much."

"O," said I, "no harm I hope. Men have their business
arrangements together,--their speculations,--and can't
always be as gallant as they would."

"O, I know it," said she. "I don't complain. I was
only joking him."

It was evident to me that that woman had not the remotest
thought of Childs's being aught than as noble and
pure as she; and as I took the package, folded it in a newspaper,
and left the house, I felt for her to the bottom of
my heart, so much so, that I at first resolved to not tell
Redfield how I had obtained the package, but to give
him up the papers, tell him to dismiss the clerk, get my
pay, and leave; for I thought it would break her heart to
find Childs so great a scoundrel; that perhaps he, finding
himself foiled, would never be guilty of a crime again;
would seek some other spot, reform, and marry her, and
make her ever happy.

These thoughts I revolved in my mind as I passed on
to my lodgings, and when I got there I opened the package.
Lo! all the papers, so far as I could judge, and
something more,--a letter or two, in a scrawly hand, with
some rude drawings of roads, a sort of diagram, on a
//338.png
.pn +1
page of one of them. I deciphered the letters, and found
that Childs's correspondent spoke, in one of them, of that
"little fool of yours," evidently meaning Miss A----; and
said something else, which I knew he would never have
said had not Childs given him occasion. In short, I saw
that Childs's respect for her was feigned; that he was
only fooling her, and my mind changed towards him; besides,
there was his confederate, and we must have them
both. I hurriedly repacked the papers, proceeded to the
bank, called Mr. Redfield into the private room, and showed
him what I had got. He was confounded, of course. I
said, "What shall we do with them?"

"Seal them, and put them in the safe for to-day. I want
to arrest that villain Childs now," said he, "for I understand
how you've come by these. We've no time to lose."

We went out after sealing the papers, and leaving them
in the safe, properly marked with my name--a deposit.
As soon as we got out of the office we made our plan. It
was to take an officer, ride out on the road on which
Childs had gone, and wait for his return. But this would
take too long. No, we'd ride right to the place he had
gone to, all of us. We found the officer, took a two-horse
carriage, and were on our way very shortly--drove to
where Childs was.

"How do you do, Mr. Redfield?" said Childs, surprised
to see him. "Couldn't you trust me to do the business?
And so <i>you've</i> come out? Ha! ha!"

"No," said Mr. Redfield; "some friends of mine wanted
to take a ride, and I thought I might as well ride this way
as any. Getting on well with the business?"

"Yes," said he, "all finished; but I couldn't find that
boy of yours. He's gone off somewhere, and there's a
part of the harness gone. Gone to get it mended, I suspect,
for coming out here he said it was weak in places."

I gave Mr. R---- a wink, and said, quietly, "That boy
would make a good operator--wouldn't he?"

"He'll do his duty," said he.
//339.png
.pn +1

"Well, he won't be back yet," said Mr. Redfield to Mr.
Childs. "Get in here, and we'll all take a short ride. Mr.
Wilson," said Mr. Redfield, "you proposed to ride on the
front seat when we returned; perhaps you'd like to now?"

"Yes, I would," said I.

"Well, please get out, and let Mr. Childs take your
place. Mr. Childs, these are Mr. Wilson and Mr. French,
friends of mine, looking about Cincinnati for speculation."

I got out, Childs took my seat in back, under the carriage
top--a sort of half buggy and half coach. The officer
was considerably disguised, (because he thought he
knew Childs, and that the latter knew him), with a pair of
blue shaded glasses and false grayish whiskers and hair.

We chatted on together, rode off a mile or two, when
Mr. Redfield said he guessed we'd return, and leave word
at that place for the boy to come as soon as he got his
harness mended. "And you can ride back with us, Childs,"
said Mr. R----.

Childs expressed his pleasure to do so. We returned
to the place, left the boy, and proceeded on a mile or two,
telling stories, looking at the land, etc., when Mr. Redfield
gave me a touch with his elbow, and looked into my eyes,
as much as to ask, "Shall we not arrest him now?" I
gave the proper sign, and Mr. Redfield, stopping the
horses, turned deliberately around, and said, "Mr. French
is an officer of the law, Mr. Childs, and would like to have
you give yourself up without any fuss about it--wouldn't
you, Mr. French? Do your duty."

"Yes, Mr. Childs, I am sorry to disturb the pleasure of
such a ride as we've had, but it is my duty to arrest you."

Childs was overcome with surprise, and said, "Yes, he
would give himself up, but he didn't know what for--anything
to oblige Mr. Redfield," and he gave himself up,
and the officer thought best to handcuff him, at which
Childs turned very pale, with mingled anger and fright.

"Now, Childs," said Redfield, "since you are secure,
and the papers are all back in the safe, and your lady,
//340.png
.pn +1
Miss A----" (for Redfield knew I must have gotten the
papers from her in some way), "has turned upon you,
you've nothing to do but make a clean breast of it. We
want your confederate, and you must help us to take him,
or suffer alone. If you wish to escape, you must turn
state's evidence--that's all. He probably has put you
up to crime. You are not too old to reform, and may be
allowed to go, and suffer nothing but the penalty of dismissal
from our office; but you'll have to return the
money you took, for I find that you are regarded worth
considerable property, and I presume your confederate is."

Childs was so utterly taken aback that he had not a particle
of courage or address left. He consented to everything
we demanded, and said he would write to his friend
whom he was to meet at Covington that night, but for
some reason he could not come, and ask him to come over
at night or next day to Cincinnati. When we got into
the city, Childs was taken to a private room by the officer,
who had taken off his manacles, and then manacled him
again after writing the note, and telling us where to find
his messenger.

The man came over, and was under arrest before he
had time to think, and was taken to another place, and
told that Childs had turned state's evidence.

"I always thought Childs was shaky," said the fellow,
evidently not quite so subdued as he might be; but we
threatened him with the extreme ends of the law, and he
agreed to get money, and see that the bankers were paid
back all that had been taken if Childs would do his part,
and to clear out "down the river" (meaning to N. O.), and
leave Cincinnati together. It appeared that he had done
the <i>work</i> of the robbery, Childs having provided him
with a key, of which he had procured a counterfeit, and
having told him of the changes of the lock, and selected a
time when there was a good amount of money in the safe.
He said he could "work" better alone than with Childs.

I needn't lengthen out the story, except to say that Mr.
//341.png
.pn +1
Redfield got back all the money too, and enough besides
to pay him and me for all our trouble; that Childs and his
friend left for parts unknown, for Mr. Redfield said it would
hurt his bank, shake faith in it so much, to prosecute the
rascals, and expose the affair, or it would gratify him otherwise
to punish them: on the whole he would let them go.

I took care that Childs had no opportunity to see Miss
A---- before his departure, or even to write her, I think;
and as I spent two or three days more in Cincinnati, I
thought, on reflection, she ought to know the facts, and in
a delicate way got opportunity to disclose them to her,
for which the innocent, sensible lady expressed her gratitude
in tears. She felt that she had escaped a villain's
clutches; confessed her ardent love for him, but told me
that sometimes she felt as if there was something bad in
his nature; that he had given her much pain from time to
time; and though they were engaged, she sometimes had
thought he did not intend to marry; and now she could see
that he had, at times, taken advantage of her love to require
her to do things for him quite disagreeable.

"Why," she exclaimed, "if I had known that package
contained stolen things, I could not have slept in the room
with it. He said they were private business papers of
his, and he did not wish to ask to have them put in the
bank safe, and thought they would be more secure with
me than at his rooms, for everybody could get in there in
his absence who liked; so I was glad to oblige him, of
course."

But my conversation with this lady need not be detailed.
She was not informed how the slip, with "My dearest
A----" on it, came into my hands. Probably it did not
then occur to her to ask. If her eye happens to light
on this article, she will now come at last to know how.
//342.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=thousanddollar
THE THOUSAND DOLLAR LESSON.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%

.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
CHARLES PURVIS: TAKING HIM IN CHARGE AT A DISTANCE--HANGERS ON
AT THE ST. NICHOLAS AND OTHER HOTEL ENTRANCES--A COLLOQUY,
SPICED WITH REMINISCENCES OF "OLD SAM COLT," OF THE "REVOLVER,"
IN HIS GAY DAYS; A PARTY AT THE "OLD CITY HOTEL," <target id='tn342'>HARTFORD,
CONN., AND OTHER THINGS--TRINITY COLLEGE BOYS--"GEORGE
ELLSWORTH"--PURVIS AND HE START ON A WALK--"WHERE CAN
THEY BE GOING?"--GOING TO SEE ELLSWORTH'S "FRIEND"--AN
EXCHANGE OF COATS--A SURVEY TAKEN--A FIRST-CLASS GAMBLING
SALOON--A NEW MAN IN THE GAME--PURVIS DRUGGED--HIS
"FRIENDS" TAKE HIM "HOME," BUT WHERE?--PURVIS IS RETURNED
TO HIS HOTEL IN A STATE OF STUPEFACTION; IS AROUSED;
MISSES A THOUSAND DOLLARS--PLANS LAID TO CATCH HIS LATE
FRIENDS--WILLIAMS FOUND BY ACCIDENT, AND QUIETLY CAGED--THE
OLD IRISH WOMAN'S APPEAL--WILLIAMS "EXPLAINS," AFTER
PROPER INDUCEMENT--MOST OF THE MONEY RECOVERED--SUPPLEMENTS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%

.sp 2
.if h
<sc><b>I had</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
I had
.if-
just returned from a trip to Detroit, and failing
to find my chief partner in town, strolled up to the St.
Nicholas Hotel one night, in July, 1863, and while sauntering
about there, came across a gentleman whom I had, a
few days before, remarked in the cars, on the Shore Line
Road. He got on board at Painesville, Ohio, and by sundry
peculiarities of his dress, which was a particle "flashy,"
but still neat and elegant, he attracted my attention. I
was at a loss where to place, or how to classify him. Sometimes
I took him for a merchant, then I thought he might
be a lawyer, and again a young man of wealth and leisure.
Suffice it, I allowed myself to study him--I know not why--so
much that I was not likely to forget him.

Among the first persons I chanced to come across that
day at the St. Nicholas, was this young man, and curiosity
//343.png
.pn +1
led me to learn from the bookkeeper his name, which I
found to be Charles Purvis, of Louisville, Kentucky.

"Purvis?" I said to myself, "Purvis? The name is
familiar, but where have I known anybody bearing it?"
and so I cudgelled my brains to awaken memory, and at
last called to mind a story told me by a brother detective,
in my way, on a time, up the Mississippi River, in which
the name of "Purvis" figured largely in a criminal transaction.
"Perhaps," thought I, "this is the chap in question,"
and as I had nothing on hand to do for a day or two,
I thought I would take the young gentleman in my charge--at
a distance.

I left the hotel, determining to return early in the evening,
and keep an eye to the young man. I did so, and I
found that he was not a little "cheerful" in his ways about
the bar,--treating, quite extensively, apparent strangers,
but evidently, after all, not much given to making acquaintances.
Finally, he left the bar-room, alone, and walked
slowly through the hall, with the air of one who has nothing
to do, and was reflecting how to amuse himself.

Near the front entrance of the hotel stood three men
chatting,--men whose characters the experienced are
never at a loss to know at once; a gentlemanly looking class,
well dressed, of affable manners, and of the greatest shrewdness
of address; men whose colloquial powers are very
great at times, but who know how to measure every word,
and adapt it to the precise wants of the individual whom
they may happen to address. These were of a class always
infesting the hotels, especially the better ones, of
the city, and whose business it is to "rope in" strangers
into the various gambling saloons.

Upon the approach of Mr. Purvis, two of these worthies,
bidding the other a cordial adieu for the evening, and addressing
him in a style to indicate that he was a man of
unusual importance, withdrew up Broadway. Still this
courtliness was evidently intended to bear upon Mr. Purvis,
who was in hearing; and as he drew nearer the distinguished
//344.png
.pn +1
gentleman, the latter addressed him, in a mild way,
touching the weather,--

"A very pleasant evening, sir."

"Decidedly. You seldom enjoy a finer one here in New
York, I suppose?"

"O, I don't know about that. The weather here is usually
pretty fair. Are you a stranger, sir, in New York,
allow me to ask?"

"Not a stranger exactly, but not a resident. I have
been here considerably, off and on--enough to know the
city pretty well, I reckon."

"That's my case exactly, for the last few years, though
I formerly resided here for a while. A pretty stirring
place to get into, if one knows all the avenues of business
or pleasure, sir."

"Surely, but I have never had occasion to learn much
of these."

"Well, I too have only a limited acquaintance here, yet
I always find my way around without much difficulty--generally
going about with some friends, of whom I have
a few here, formerly from my native State, Connecticut."

"Ah, Connecticut? Do you know anything about Hartford?
Perhaps you are from there?"

"Yes, sir, that is my native place, and a pleasant little
city 'tis. Great deal of wealth and refinement there,
sir."

"Yes, I know it. I had a cousin from Arkansas there,
at Trinity College, some years ago, and a gay boy, too, was
Bill Sebastian" (if I rightly remember the name he gave).
"I visited him there during his collegiate course, and spent
a delightful week. Old Sam Colt was a trifle gay--wasn't
he? Well, we had a jolly time with him one night, and
several more of the jolly men of Hartford, in rooms at
the old City Hotel. You know where that is?"

"Of course; and it has witnessed many a festive meeting.
The Trinity boys always go there for their fun."

"I am glad to learn that you are from Hartford. I've
//345.png
.pn +1
thought I should visit that town before I return. Do you
intend to return there soon?"

"Yes, I may go up to-morrow, but I may remain here a
day or two more. Should you be going up when I go, I
should be pleased to have your company."

"Well, stranger, I hope it will happen that we go up
together, if I go at all. And now let us exchange cards.
My name is Purvis, as you see, of Louisville, Kentucky."

The lounger fumbled in his pockets for a card to give to
Mr. Purvis, but finding none, half-blushingly announced
that his cards were out, but that his name was George
<target id='tn345'>Ellsworth.

"Ellsworth? Well, sir, you rejoice in a right honorable
name. I've heard my Uncle Throckmorton talk a great
deal about one of the Ellsworths of Connecticut."

It was evident to me that "Ellsworth" was making fast
inroads into the good graces of Purvis, and of the latter's
character I was beginning to be at a loss; for though I had
from his name connected him at first with a criminal transaction,
yet his manner, in conversation with "Ellsworth,"
did not seem to sustain my early suspicions.

Their conversation now assumed a lower tone, as Purvis
had drawn nearer up to Ellsworth, the two acting very
like old acquaintances by this time; so I managed to draw
nearer them, fumbling over the envelopes of some old
letters I had taken from my pocket, and assuming to be in
a "brown study" over something.

"Well, isn't this a little dull, Mr. Purvis? I've been
waiting here an hour or so, expecting a particular friend
along, with whom I was going out for a while to look about.
But he has been obliged to disappoint me, I suppose," said
Ellsworth.

"Yes, it is a little dull, as you say; a stranger, especially,
is apt to be very lonesome in a big city. Do you ever
take wine, Mr. Ellsworth?"

"Seldom, sir, especially when away from home; but I
don't mind a glass now and then."
//346.png
.pn +1

"Come, sir, accompany me, if you will. I would invite
you to my room to take wine, but unfortunately they're so
crowded here they've been obliged to put me far up. Suppose
we go to the bar?"

"Well, if you please; but you'll pardon me when I say
that I must not indulge but once now. The night is long
yet, and we shall have other occasion, perhaps, to drink.
I know how generous and impulsive you Southern gentlemen
are."

"O, surely, I know we are apt to 'go ahead,' like Davy
Crockett, when we are right, and when we are not, too;
but come along, please," and the trusting Purvis carelessly
locked his arm in that of Ellsworth, and they moved towards
the bar-room.

My first intention was to follow them, but I hesitated,
and waited their return. They were gone a far longer
time than necessary to take one glass, and when they came
along down the hall, rested but a moment at the door, and
stepped out down Broadway together.

"Ellsworth has his victim in sure training," thought I
to myself. "Where can they be going?"

Feeling confident that some mischief would be wrought
ere the night was passed, I followed on at proper distance,
and saw the two lingering for a moment before No. 477
Broadway. Ellsworth seemed more in doubt what to do
than Purvis, or less decided. By this time I had, by mingling
with sundry pedestrians, managed to approach near
enough to Ellsworth and Purvis to hear the latter say,--

"Well, if you think we won't obtrude, let us go up to see
your friend for a while."

"No, we shall not obtrude," replied Ellsworth, "but I
was thinking if we might not find some more agreeable
place,"--but he turned and went up the stairs, followed by
Purvis.

In 477, at that time, was a half gambling hell, kept as
the private rooms of a worthless sporting son of a distinguished
surgeon. I had never been in the place, but had
//347.png
.pn +1
heard that many fast young men gathered there to play
cards for fun, and that sometimes a faro-bank was run
there for "amusement." Fearing that by some possibility
Ellsworth might notice me as the individual having stood
near him in the St. Nicholas so long, and suspect something
if I went in alone, and undisguised, I was resolving what
course to pursue, when my friend, Henry W----, a detective,
came along. He was just my size, and wore a blue
"swallow-tailed" coat, while I had on a black frock. I
took Henry into the small hall-way, and said, "Business
up; swap coats with me in a minute; and if you've a pair
of false mustaches with you, let me have 'em, Henry."

"I haven't mustaches," said Henry; "but here's something
as good," said he, pulling from the skirt of his coat a
paper containing a fine long-haired wig. (My hair was
cut extremely short for the then prevailing fashion.) The
changing of coats, and assuming of the wig, was but a moment's
work, and with my promise to Henry "to report
in the morning," we parted, and I mounted to the sporting-room
in a trice. Walking in coolly, I proceeded quietly to
the "bureau," and helped myself, as is the custom in such
places, to a small glass of wine, and while drinking, took a
survey.

There were my friends Ellsworth and Purvis, the former
evidently instructing the other about the ways and habits
of such places. This night the faro-bank was in operation
in one room, and in another several parties were playing
at cards.

After a while I overheard Ellsworth say, "I never play
for money, but some one here, I dare say, will take a hand
with you if you wish a little amusement," and they sauntered
into the card-room, where, without trouble, parties
were found to "make up a hand" at an unoccupied table--Ellsworth
declining to play, but taking a seat near Purvis,
to watch the game. The stakes were small, but during
the play Purvis lost a little more than the loose change
which he had about him, and was forced to draw a well-filled
//348.png
.pn +1
wallet from his side coat pocket. I noticed a peculiar
smile on Ellsworth's face as his eye rested on that
wallet; and from that moment I felt that I had work to
do. I took an apparently listless interest in the game,
and kept my eye as much on Ellsworth as I could. He
seemed to be restless. Persons were coming in and going
out of the other room especially, and Ellsworth's face
always reverted to the door when he heard new footsteps
or a new voice. Presently his face brightened, and he got
up, went into the other room, took a glass of wine, and on
returning, affecting to just then discover a friend, exclaimed,
"Ah, Williams! how do you do? How did you
get here? I was waiting at St. Nicholas for you for over
an hour."

"Well, I was delayed--did not know where to look for
you when I got there, and dropped in here, I hardly know
how; but, old fellow, it's all as well now--isn't it?"
giving Ellsworth a gentle pat on the shoulder. All this
was said in such a manner that Purvis might have heard
it if not too much engaged in his play; and he probably
did hear it; and the two worthies went arm in arm into
the card-room.

"Let me interrupt the play for a second, gentlemen, if
you please," said Ellsworth, taking Williams directly up to
Purvis. "Mr. Purvis, allow me to introduce to you my
friend, Mr. Williams, the gentleman we were waiting so
long for to-night. Lucky--isn't it, he dropped in here?"

The usual courtesies of introduction were passed, Purvis
assuring Mr. Williams that he was very glad to make his
acquaintance, and that the game would soon be over,
when he would be glad to learn more of his "friend Ellsworth's"
friend.

But who was this "Williams?" you are apt to inquire,
right here. I did not know Ellsworth, but I had seen
Williams before. He was elegantly attired, more so than
Ellsworth, indeed, and nearly as mannerly; though, to the
practised eye, there was discernible in his face a lower
//349.png
.pn +1
range of character than in Ellsworth's. He had more low
cunning, and was fitter to do deeds of positive criminality.
He belonged to the higher class of pickpockets, and I had
known him under the name of "Billy Seaver." I saw that
the two were well met to work together.

Purvis and his party's game ending, Williams proposed
to take a hand; and a party being made up, Purvis continued
to play, not neglecting to take wine occasionally. On
one occasion Williams, accompanying him to the sideboard,
I noticed the former turn suddenly about, as he said, "Mr.
Purvis, join me in claret this time,--an unfashionable
drink, to be sure" (with a most graceful smile). "I see
that you take sherry generally," and having suited the
action to the word, had poured out a glass, which he handed
to Purvis, who took and drank it. I had no doubt that
Williams had skilfully "drugged" that dram; and my
interest began to deepen now that my observations would
have to continue for several hours. At length I united in
a game with several new in-comers, and posted myself at
the table where I could easily watch Purvis and his friends.
He played on well for a while, but by and by I saw he
began to grow a little stupid. At this time Williams, who
was a good talker, entered upon the recital of many curious
tales ("good stories," as they are called among his
class, but which were not so "good" as to bear repeating
here), and tried to keep up Purvis's waning spirits with
laughter and jokes. And so Purvis was kept at the board,
while the drug was constantly doing its sure and secret
work. Purvis lost considerably, and occasionally reverted
to his wallet for supplies.

An hour or so went on, when Ellsworth, who took no
practical interest in the game, said to Williams, "Isn't it
about time for honest people to be a-bed? Hadn't we better
go?"

"Just as you like; and I presume Mr. Purvis would
like to go to his hotel. I declare," said he, turning to the
clock on the mantel, "it <i>is</i> later than I thought."
//350.png
.pn +1

Presently the three sallied out. With some difficulty
was it that Purvis moved. They reached the sidewalk,
and Ellsworth said, "Mr. Williams, let's go up to the St.
Nicholas with Mr. Purvis," taking Purvis by the arm in a
quiet way; and they started. The distance was so short,
that on reaching the walk from the stairs, where I overheard
the proposition, I thought I would not follow too
speedily. They had not gone on their way over a minute
at most, when an alarm of fire on the corner of Howard
and Broadway arrested my attention, as I thought but
for a minute or so,--but time flies on such occasions,
and it might have been five minutes,--when, turning to
look after my men, I could not see them, but rushed on to
the hotel. Not finding them there, I sought the clerk, to
learn if Purvis had taken his key and gone to his room.
He had seen nothing of Purvis at all, "since early in the
evening," he said.

Where could the scoundrels have taken him? O, they
must have dropped into one of the coaches standing at all
hours of night near the hotel; that was my solution of the
matter, and I knew it would be folly to attempt to follow
them farther; and I had nothing to do but to withdraw to
my rooms and go to bed, and await the issue--clew to
which I felt sure to get next day.

I took the night clerk into my confidence sufficiently to
tell him that I suspected Purvis would be victimized, lose
his money, and perhaps his life; but conjured him to keep
still, if he should chance to return before morning; watch
those who might come with him, and be sure to get the
number of the coach and name of the driver, if he should
be brought back in a carriage, and then find out if and
how he had been "played with," and to send me word: all
of which he promised to do, entering with spirit into the
enterprise. I went home, feeling sure that the clerk would
give me an intelligent report if anything wrong happened.

Next morning, about seven o'clock, I was awakened at
my rooms by the clerk, who told me that, an hour before,
//351.png
.pn +1
Purvis had been pitched into the entrance way of the
hotel, in a state of stupidity so great that, after a half
hour's attempt to arouse him, they had sent for a doctor;
that instantly on hearing the noise of his advent, he had
rushed to the door, only to see a tall man running down
street, while a coach, at some distance off, was driving
rapidly up; but whether the coach had any connection
with the matter he thought was doubtful. But he had
examined Purvis's clothes, which were much stained and
soiled, and found a cut in the right side, over his wallet
pocket, but "not large enough to let out much of a purse,"
he said. As the wallet was large, I fancied that this cut
had been made, possibly, as they left the gaming-rooms,
and not succeeding with that, had taken Purvis away to
"finish" him,--which was doubtless the case.

I dressed myself rapidly as possible, and hurried to the
hotel. Purvis had been carried to his room; and a doctor
and his student, a tall, good-looking, sympathetic fellow,
were attending him. The doctor administered some medicines
as well as he could, and then performed some quite
vigorous manipulations of Purvis's body. The student
said that he was a native of Louisville, and knew Purvis's
family very well, and that he'd give five hundred dollars
himself for the detection of the scamps who had ill treated
Purvis. He warmed up to great height on the occasion, in
true Southern style, generous and ardent. I took a great
fancy to him, and when the doctor left urged the student
to remain, which he gladly did. We watched by Purvis's
side for an hour and a half before he sufficiently recovered
to recognize his Louisville friend, and to answer me as to
how much he had lost,--which was what I most desired
to know. Where he had been he had no memory of. All
was a blank to him; but he knew that the evening before
he had a thousand and sixty dollars with him--a thousand
in his wallet, in the side coat pocket, and the sixty in various
pockets. He had paid a bill a day before for parties
in Louisville, and had so much left, only about half of
//352.png
.pn +1
which belonged to him, the remainder belonged to the
Louisville parties; "which makes the matter a heap
worse," as he said.

When I had learned so much, I set about laying my
plans, within myself, for catching Ellsworth and Williams.
I had no doubt that they were still in the city, so secret
had been their operations, as they probably supposed; and
thinking I might need help, took into my counsels, as far
as I thought best, my young friend, the stalwart student.
He was all on fire for the work, if we should chance to
come across the enemy; and we started forth, he to arm
himself at his rooms, I to prepare myself, and we to "rendezvous"
at the St. Nicholas in an hour.

Coming together, I bethought me that perhaps Purvis's
wallet might have some private mark by which it might
be identified; and we went up to his room to inquire, and
learned that the wallet was the gift of his brother, and
bore, under the principal clasp, in faded gilding, the letters,
"C. H. P., L'ville." The letters were quite obscure now,
he said. And we started on our search. I fancied I could
readily find Williams's lodgings, and that he would likely
be there, in a state of more or less sleepiness, and his compeer
Ellsworth with him. But I had counted without my
host that day; and though we were constantly going from
point to point, in our investigations, nothing had we
learned when nightfall came, and we were very weary.
Passing up Roosevelt Street, having had occasion to go
down to the Williamsburg Ferry, a tall man brushed rapidly
by us, whom I at once discovered to be Williams, who
suddenly dropped into a little filthy cellar oyster saloon,
and we followed. Williams had taken a seat at the remote
corner of the dirty room, and called for a stew. He looked
haggard, as if he had, not long ago, been on a tremendous
spree. We called for oysters roasted in shell, as likely to
be the most cleanly in that dirty crib.

Williams was quite "nervous," and spilled the broth over
himself considerably, and I half conjectured that he, too,
//353.png
.pn +1
had been drugged. I knew he must have taken the wallet,
and that perhaps he had it about him then; but I had no
warrant to arrest him on the spot, but must follow him
farther. He arose, having finished his meal, and started
straight for the door, and opening it, was going out, when
the dirty Irish woman who kept the shop exclaimed, "Look
here, mistur, is that the way gintlemens trates ladies?
Don't yer pay for yer vittals when yer takes 'em?"

Williams, who hardly knew what he was about, had
not, I presume, intended to "beat" the woman (to use the
slang phrase for cheat), but he was maddened by the
woman's gross manner, and turned upon her with an oath.

"Be jabers," screamed the woman! "Gintlemen," turning
to us, "will yees see a poor honest woman, so there!" (the
tears coming into her eyes) "chated by the likes o' that
dirthy blaggard? Ketch him, and hould him!" (flourishing
a big spoon, like a sword, in air).

My impulsive student friend needed no more encouragement,
and quickly catching Williams in his brawny arms,
exclaimed, "Here, you scamp! pay this woman before you
go, or you'll stay here all night," pulling him at the same
time up to the little dirty counter, behind which the woman
stood. Half drunk, Williams, finding himself in a strong
man's grasp, was instantly quiet, and began fumbling for
his money. In his search he pulled out a silk sash--as it
proved, a stolen one at that--from his inner side coat
pocket, when out tumbled a plethoric wallet with it.

"Be jabers, that's a fat one, indade!" said the woman:
"the gintleman has money enough to buy out old Astor
and all his kin."

Williams, more intoxicated than I thought at first,
seemed to take no heed of this, and after he had managed
to fish out of his pocket money enough to pay the old
woman, I took up the wallet, and said, "Here, don't leave
this; you'll want it."

He looked in amazement, as he started towards me, as he
saw me deliberately opening the clasp. There were the
//354.png
.pn +1
//355.png
.pn +1
//356.png
.pn +1
self-same initials Purvis had told us of. "I will keep
this, Mr. Williams," said I; "this is what I am after.--Old
woman, this man is a pickpocket.--Bolt the door!" I
exclaimed to my student friend, which he did instantly.
"Take charge of Williams while I examine the wallet; and
you, old woman, keep quiet; and, Williams, don't <i>you</i> dare
to make the least noise, or we'll finish you here."

.pm illo i_354 i_354.jpg 700px "\"KETCH HIM AND HOULD HIM\"--WILLIAMS' ARREST."

I made rapid search, and found in the wallet nine hundred
and thirty dollars (some of it Kentucky money), a
lady's elegant gold enamelled watch, and a chain which
could not have cost less than two hundred dollars, but
which had been cut in some of the links--evidently
a recent prize of Williams. He would never tell where
that watch came from; and I advertised "A lady's watch,
taken from a pickpocket. The owner can have the same
by identifying it. Call at No. -- Broadway," for several
days, in the papers. But no one ever came to claim it,
and I gave it to a lady, who still wears it, subject to the
owner's reclamation at any time.

Williams saw that it was all over with him, but he protested
that he did not abstract the wallet; that the whole
"job" was Ellsworth's; and I was willing to believe this
in part, for Ellsworth was the prime roper-in. More anxious
to catch Ellsworth than to punish Williams, I agreed
that if he would tell me the whole story truly, and where
Ellsworth could be found, I would, on finding the latter,
let him, Williams, off.

He told me the story in detail. They had taken Purvis,
that night, over to a place in Williamsburg, occupied by
Ellsworth, and his "family," as he pretended. Purvis was
so stupid when they arrived there that the coachman had
to assist them to bear him into the house. Of course the
process of robbery was easy after that. But not having a
good place to keep Purvis, and that matter being dangerous,
too, they had hired another coach near morning, and
brought him over to New York, Williams coming alone
with him. He would not tell me the coachman's name,--the
//357.png
.pn +1
one of the night before,--but said he had "bled"
them to the tune of fifty dollars for his services.

He had been over to Williamsburg, and was on his way
back, taking with him the money, which he was to divide
the next day, at a certain hour, in a place he named in the
Bowery, with Ellsworth, who would be there.

I did not credit his story, to be sure; but still I was
there duly, and found Williams, who pretended surprise
as he came in with an officer (into whose keeping I had
given him,--having called him before we left the shop,--on
a charge of forgery, not telling him I knew the real
state of the case), at not finding Ellsworth up to his appointment.
But my story is running into too much detail.
Suffice it that we got back to the hotel as speedily as we
could, and a more delighted man than was Mr. Purvis, on
the recovery of so much of his money, can hardly be imagined.
He gave the watch, of course, into my keeping,
and in spite of all my protestations, compelled me to receive
a much larger sum than would have amply satisfied
me.

I pursued Ellsworth somewhat afterwards, visiting his
"family" in Williamsburg, but I could not get track of
him for a long while, when he turned up in another city,
and I chanced to make him available in the detection of
sundry other rogues. But that story is <i>sui generis</i>, and I
must not mar it by a recital of a part here.

As for the brave medical student (whose name I have
purposely withheld), he became a fast friend of mine, and
afterwards we had several adventures together, some of
which I purpose to relate, should I at some other time feel
more in the spirit to do so.

Enough to know now, that he is, for his years, an eminent
physician, with a large practice, in a district in the
South, and married to a most beautiful woman, whose
acquaintance he made while once playing the amateur detective.
In some of these papers, perhaps, his name, if he
permits, will be disclosed. Had he given himself to the
//358.png
.pn +1
business, I conceive that he could not have had a successful
rival, as a detective, in the world. The same knowledge
of human nature which the detective needs, cannot
but serve the physician to great advantage.

Mr. Purvis said that if he had wholly lost the thousand
dollars, the lesson he had learned would have been cheaply
bought.
//359.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=wolfin
THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
THE ANTIQUITY OF THAT SHEEP'S SKIN AND ITS PIOUS USEFULNESS--A
LARGE LOSS OF SILKS, SATINS, LACES, AND OTHER GOODS--A CONSULTATION--A
LONG STUDY--THE VARIOUS CHARACTERS OF SEVERAL
CLERKS, WHAT THEY DID, AND HOW THEY KILLED "SPARE TIME"--INFLUENCE
OF THE CITY ON MORALS--NEW YORK CENTRAL PARK--A
MOST WONDERFUL SERIES OF THEFTS--THE MATTER INEXPLICABLE AT
FIRST, GROWS MORE SUBTLE--A GLEAM OF LIGHT AT LAST--A BRIGHT
ITALIAN BOY PLAYS A PART--A LADY FOLLOWED--MORE LIGHT--AN
EXTEMPORIZED SERVANT OF THE CROTON WATER BOARD GETS INSIDE A
CERTAIN HOUSE--SARAH CROGAN AND I--HOW A HOUSE IN NINETEENTH
STREET DELIVERED UP ITS TREASURES--"WILLIAM BRUCE," ALIAS
CHARLES PHILLIPS--A VERY STRANGE DENOUEMENT--A MEEK MAN
TRANSFORMED; HIS RAGE--A DELIVERY UP, WITH ACCOMPANYING JEWELS--A
"WIDOW" NOT A WIDOW REMOVES--WHAT SARAH CROGAN
THOUGHT.

.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>It</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
It
.if-
is an astonishing thing to a detective, and ought to
be to every person of sense, it seems to me, that after
the experiences of ages "the-wolf-in-sheep's-clothing" still
keeps on deluding people. Everybody ought by this time
to know the animal, and everybody does, in a sense; but
everybody has heard of him, and seen him somewhere
along the path of life, and either been bitten by him, or
sorely frightened, or something of the sort. Yet forever
he is playing his wiles with success with everybody; and
his sheep skin is the same one he has used ever since historic
time began, and perhaps long before that. But I
did not take my pen to descant upon the blunders and
stupidities of my fellow-mortals, or to adorn this page with
a lecture on morals and hypocrisies, but to tell a tale in
which, perchance, a "moral" will be better "painted" by
the facts it discloses than by my discursive pen.

I was called upon one day by the confidential clerk of a
//360.png
.pn +1
large mercantile house in this city, and informed by him
that he had been sent by one of the partners of the house,--the
other partners being abroad, one in Europe, and one
in the South,--in regard to the matter of extensive robberies
from their store; and it had been thought best that
I should be made acquainted with the chief facts before
visiting the house--as they supposed, of course, he said,
I should wish to. I told him (and here, for sake of brevity,
let me give him a name, which is correct only in the
initial letters--Charles Phillips)--I told Mr. Phillips that
his policy was quite right, and that I would listen then
and there to his story. He went on to recount that, probably
for a long while, the house had been robbed of various
kinds of goods, but that of late, particularly, they had been
greatly annoyed by missing large quantities of the highest
priced goods: their best silks, satins, laces, etc., which,
being costly goods, amounted, as nearly as they could calculate,--in
one month's loss, too,--to some eighteen hundred
dollars; "and of course," said he, "the loss may be
more, for perhaps we do not know all we have <target id='tn360'>lost." He
told me of plans which he and the partner at home had
devised to find out the thief or thieves, and the watch that
had been set, all to no avail. He had a different opinion
about it, he said, from the partner, who thought some of
the clerks must be the guilty parties; and it did seem so,
sometimes, he said, for the store was well watched nights
by a trusty watchman, whom he himself had watched as
well, and felt confident that he could have no confederates;
and, besides, the things taken were not usually in reach
of customers--only the clerks could get at them. So he
thought his employer excusable, perfectly, for his suspicion
that some of the clerks must be the thief. Yet for his
part he could not believe it, inasmuch as he had known all
the clerks so long,--five years, a majority of them, and
the rest of them, save three, who had been but from two to
six months in the house, for from one year up to three and
four; and he thought he knew all about them, and could
//361.png
.pn +1
not allow himself to suspect any one of them. But, nevertheless,
his employer, who could not in his own mind
fasten suspicion upon any specific person, had fully made
up his mind that some of the clerks were guilty, and they
were now going to wake up the matter, if possible, and
"bring things to a focus," as he expressed it.

I listened to what Mr. Phillips had to say, and inquired how
many clerks there were in the establishment, when he informed
me that, aside from himself, there were thirty-seven.

"Thirty-seven?" said I; "and you are not able to say
that any one of these is more innocent or less guilty than
another, eh?"

"No."

"Well, then, we've a job on hand which may last for a
good while, and require not only time, but patience, and a
good deal of money to work out; for we might hit on the
thief the first thing, but we might not be able to identify
him till we had been through with all the rest, and satisfied
ourselves of their innocence, you see, and it may cost
your house more than it would to suffer the losses, and
let accident, perhaps, hereafter disclose the guilty party."

"I have talked this very point over with Mr. Redding,"
(the partner), said he, "and he says the firm must go to
any necessary cost to find the thief, and put a stop to
peculations; that the house cannot, in fact, long do business
at this rate of loss, and he's made up his mind to go
into the matter thoroughly, and when he gets <i>his</i> head set,
there's no moving him. The house must go ahead in this
business, and let you have your way about it."

I learned from Mr. Phillips that many of the goods taken
were of a peculiar kind, but after all, not to be readily
identified, if the private marks of the house were removed;
"and any thief," said he, "shrewd enough to steal from
our store, at the rate the thefts have been going on for the
last few weeks, is wise enough, I dare say, to leave nothing
of a story-telling nature on the goods. He's probably
removed our private marks at his earliest convenience."
//362.png
.pn +1

After our conference was over, and I had agreed to call
at the store the next day, in the capacity of a wholesale customer
"from Buffalo," and Mr. Phillips was gone, I set myself
to work at some theory in the case, and found myself
quite baffled at every point. I had not facts enough yet
in my possession to form an opinion; and as I prided myself
in those days, more than I do now, on my unerring
skill in detecting a thief by his countenance, I resolved to
theorize no more till I had gone through the house, and
scrutinized each clerk's face. But that night I talked the
matter over with certain of my brother detectives, for it
was evident that there was work enough to be done, if
we wished to save time, for several of them. Each of my
men thought the matter could be easily solved. Some of
the clerks were, of course, the thieves, and they only
needed to be "spotted" for a few nights at once, and sure
as fate the guilty one would be brought to light 'twas
agreed; but it didn't prove so easy a job, after all.

The next day I called upon Mr. Redding, it having been
understood between me and Mr. Phillips that he was not
to recognize me before the clerks, until after I might have
been presented to him by Mr. Redding, and then only cursorily.
I handed Mr. Redding a note which I had prepared,
and as he did not know me personally, and was a little
taken aback at what I said in the note, I giving him sundry
orders and directions therein, his strangership to me
was quite evident to the clerks who chanced to be about
when we met. Mr. Redding showed me all the distinction
that I required, and himself showed me through the
establishment. It was a long list of goods, indeed, that
which I prized, in every department; and we took our
time, in order that I might have the amplest opportunity
to study each clerk's face, which I did to my satisfaction,
but to no certainty as to which one if any was the thief.
I thought that either my usual sagacity had fled me, or
else that the clerks were a singularly honest set of young
men, and withal exceedingly well chosen and clever.
//363.png
.pn +1

I was at times tempted to suspect one or two of them;
but I could not tell why, and came to the conclusion at
last that this temptation resulted rather from my anxiety
to "spot" some one, than from good judgment; and I concluded
that part of the business without having arrived
at any conclusion whatever as to the guilty parties. After
this Mr. Redding called his chief confidential clerk, Mr.
Phillips, into the counting-room, and we quietly talked
over the matter. At Mr. Redding's request, Mr. Phillips
produced such a list as they had been able to make of the
goods lost, which amounted in all to quite an astonishing
sum; but of these things they could inform me of nothing
which was very peculiar in its nature--nothing the like
of which other stores had not. But I finally requested to
see some of the richest silks, such as those they had lost,
and was taken by Mr. Redding to see them. I have a
pretty accurate eye for forms and colors, and I paid special
attention to a piece of silk, the like of which I had
never seen, and the cost of which was more than that of
any other piece in the store. It was a heavy silk--would
stand alone, and had in it "ribs," after the fashion somewhat
of a twisted column, the pattern of which was perhaps
borrowed from a column in the court of some old convent,
such as I had often seen in Italy, where for a year I
was occupied in that country ferreting out some scamps
who had fled there from Philadelphia, and who were badly
wanted to settle sundry accounts. With the association
of the "ribs" and the column, I was not likely to forget
that piece of silk. But other houses had the like, and I
might not be able to identify the piece as coming from Mr.
Redding's store, if I should chance to come across it in
some retail store, at the pawnbroker's, or anywhere else.
Yet it might prove a clew, and I put my faith in it; with
what result, will be seen further on, for I cannot mar my
narrative by introducing it here.

It was quite evident to me that the thief must be some
one or more of the clerks; and I could not, on inquiry into
//364.png
.pn +1
the habits of the clerks, so far as Mr. Redding understood
them, or in any way, fix upon any one of the clerks as
more likely than another to be the thief. These young
men had been well selected; were smart fellows, each in
his way. Indeed, Mr. Redding thought that, on the whole,
his house had the best set of clerks of all the houses in
the city, and although he was convinced that some one or
more of them (and he as well as I inclined to the notion
that there must be two at least) were guilty, yet he
said he would gladly give a thousand dollars if the guilt
could be fastened upon somebody without the store; for
the house had always treated its clerks as if they were
the partners' own children in many respects, and given
the clerks rather better wages than they could get anywhere
else, and some unusual privileges. They had nearly
all been long with the house, and I thought that Mr.
Redding seemed to suffer as much from the fear that some
of the clerks would prove to be the guilty party, as from
the loss of the goods themselves. In fact, he confessed
that he felt "chicken-hearted" about the matter, as he
expressed it; but his partners' interests as well as his
own must be looked to, and so he was resolute.

I returned to my office, and set about immediate preparations
on the work. I was going at it that night, and
I saw that there was no other way than to take matters
coolly, and work systematically. I sent for some of my
men, having apprised Mr. Redding that it would "cost
something" to work up the case, and that to do it within
any conscionable time I must set several men at work.
He had given me quite a wide range for expenses, saying
that it would not do to be guilty of any laches in the business
for want of means; because, at the rate they were
losing property, with all their eyes open at that, they
would soon have to give up business.

I set my men to keeping their eyes on certain of the
clerks whose places of residence and names Mr. Redding
had given me. He had not procured the streets and numbers
//365.png
.pn +1
of all of them, but was to do so next day. The clerks
designated were carefully watched and followed, to find
out how and where they spent their nights, for it was my
conjecture, that whoever stole the goods was under the
influence of some demon passion; that he either gambled,
and was deeply in debt, and stole the goods and sold them,
or that some wily woman had him in her power, or some
fiend of a man was driving him on in crime; and it was
necessary first to find out all about where these young
men spent their time out of the store.

I took my own place in the work, and having been so much
about the store that day, it was necessary that I disguise
myself, as I did; and I took my station on Broadway, near
the store, and waited for the young men to sally forth,
directing my men to the boarding-places of some of the
clerks, with as accurate descriptions of them as I could
give.

I had not long to wait before some of the clerks passed
me, and I selected two, whom I followed. Darkness was
just coming on. They stopped on a corner to lay out their
programme for the evening, and concluded to not go home
to tea, but to go to a restaurant, where I followed them,
and remained there till they left; and when they came out
they went up Broadway, and stopping before a billiard
saloon, seemed to be debating the question whether they
would go up or not; but finally they went up the stairs,
and I remained behind a few minutes, and then followed
them. Somehow, as I entered the room, and my eye fell
upon the face of one of them, something seemed to tell me
that he was the guilty fellow. The young men had already
commenced a game, and were busy with the bewitching
balls. I lounged about, and finally got a partner for a single
game. The young men did not bet--only played for
sport, and at a seasonable hour left, not however, till I,
having observed that they would soon depart, had gotten
down on to the pavement before them. When they came
down, they set off together, walked some distance together,
//366.png
.pn +1
turned down a side street, and on the corner of it and
another street bade each other good night. One of them
went on to his boarding-house, and so I suppose did the
other.

The next night I gave my particular attentions to those
same young men. They went over to the Bowery Theatre,
and like sensible fellows, too, had seats in the pit, in which
part of the house I also secured a place. They seemed
to enjoy the play greatly, and one of them threw a quarter
of a dollar on the stage in lieu of a bouquet, in testimony
of his appreciation of the splendid representation of a
mock Richard the Third by the leading actor, and I
fancied that perhaps I had found out the young man's leading
passion--his besetting sin.

When they left the theatre they proceeded to an alehouse,
and after taking a mug apiece of somebody's "best
pale ale," sallied out, and wended their way together homeward,
till they came to the parting-place again; and I followed
the one whom I did not pursue the night before, only
to be led on a long distance up into Hudson Street, when
the young man applying his night-key to the door of a
very respectable-looking house, entered and vanished. I
had begun to make up my mind that this sort of work
would not do; that these clerks were but like ten thousand
others, who, wearied by their day's work, sought
recuperation in slight dissipations, and, perhaps, questionable
pleasures, such as billiards, and comedies, and ales
give. But I followed up some other of the clerks, reporting
every day to Mr. Redding or to Mr. Phillips very ill
success. The latter was particularly anxious to have me
"go on, and make thorough work of it;" and as the days
went on I became much attached to him.

My men, too, brought me their accounts daily, with as
little success towards the desired end as I myself had, and
we were frequently on the point of giving up the job. We
concluded that perhaps several of the clerks were engaged
in this robbery; that they might have formed a secret
//367.png
.pn +1
society among themselves, and that they probably had a
safe place to send their goods to, and a skilful "receiver,"
who would pay them perhaps half price for the goods, but
we could find nothing to sustain this hypothesis. Two or
three of the clerks were quite literary in their tastes, and
belonged to some debating club, I forget the name now,
but it was quite an institution at the time, and thither my
men had followed them, and quite fallen in love with the
spirited manner and eloquent speech-making of one of the
clerks. Of course they followed these wherever they
went, and nothing could convince them that these young
men were guilty. One of the clerks was an inveterate
theatre-goer. He went every night to one theatre or
another; but my men found out that he usually had passes,
and was, to some extent, a dramatic critic, furnishing the
reporters of sundry papers with notes, and that in this way
he probably got his passes, and so did not in this way
waste much of his slender salary. He neither smoked nor
drank liquor, and seemed to be always alone, careless of
companionship; so he was dropped as "not the man."
Another of the clerks had, it was found, a strange fancy for
old books and antique engravings. He spent, evidently, as
little money on his person as would suffice to dress neatly
and well enough for his position, and put all he could have
into old books and engravings; and we found that he was
well known by all those strange men, who in these days
mostly collect in Nassau Street, and live among the rubbish
and dirt of old, and for most part, worthless books, driving
keen bargains, giving little, and asking much for some
rare old folly of a book, or some worthless volume in which
some lord of the blood, or some royal sovereign of literature,
like Johnson or Addison, had chanced to write his
name. The young clerk had a business man's as well
as an artist's eye for these things, we found, and was
said, by the old book-men, to make such excellent assortments
of engravings, etc., which he bound together, as to
be able to realize in their sale quite an advance on the
//368.png
.pn +1
original purchase. And so we found merit instead of crime
in him, and felt very sure that he could be "counted out."
But we had some singular experiences. One of the clerks,
as did indeed three of them, boarded in Brooklyn. This
one was a Sunday-school teacher, but he came over to New
York one Sunday night to attend a religious meeting, and
being particularly followed that night, he was found going
into a disreputable "ladies' boarding-house." Some of the
clerks were Sunday-school teachers, especially certain of
them who were middle-aged, and married; but we discovered,
in our scrutiny of these clerks, that these older ones
especially, had a habit of taking their country customers
and friends to see the sights of the city at night, and that
in order to beguile these persons, in other words, to "show
them proper attentions," they were not scrupulous about
forgetting their Sunday-school teachings, and taking these
customers into the most questionable dens in the city. In
those days the vulgar phrase "seeing the elephant" was
more common than now, and included participation in all
sorts of small and impure vices. In my opinion, this greed
for trade, which impells the competing clerks of different
houses to show every possible attention of this kind to the
young men (as well as old, for often the old are worse than
the young) who come to the city to buy goods, has led to
the downfall, the moral and financial ruin, of thousands who
would otherwise have led honorable, and perhaps noble
lives. But things in this respect are better now a days
than they were many years ago in New York. The great
advance which the fine arts have made in this country, even
within the last ten years, has had much to do with this
improvement. The theatre is "a thing of beauty" and
attractive in comparison to what it used to be; and everywhere
scattered throughout the city are many matters of
the higher arts to attract and interest the stranger or frequent
visitor even, and so in a measure keep him out of
harm's way. The Central Park has been a great educator
of the city people out of vices, and has an elevating influence
//369.png
.pn +1
upon country people coming to the city, many of
whom "luxuriate" in a visit to it, instead of "dissipate,"
as in years ago, in the dens of the crowded city; for in
winter even, when the cold is intense enough to make ice,
joyous nights are spent in skating on the Park pond, or
in beholding the witching gayeties of the accomplished
skaters.

But the days went on,--I almost daily conferring with
Mr. Redding, or his accomplished chief clerk, Mr. Phillips,
whose sagacity and inventive genius pleased me greatly.
He would have made--in fact was, in one sense--one of
the most shrewd and capable of detectives. There was
no avenue for the slightest suspicion which his keen brain
could not discover when Mr. Redding seemed disposed to
give up in despair, as from time to time I faithfully reported
to him the empty results of my own and my men's
constant watching, or drew on the house, on different occasions,
for current expenses. Mr. Phillips stimulated him to
further endeavor, feeling, as he said, and as an honest man,
in his capacity, could not well but feel, that the responsibility
on his part was morally as great as if he were the
pecuniary sufferer, and he continued to bravely and nobly
work in the interest of the house. But constantly the
peculations went on; and so mysteriously were they conducted,
that I believe it would have required no great
amount of argument to convince Mr. Redding that invisible
hands took part in the thefts; that the spirits of some old
merchants, perhaps (not having forgotten their greed of
gain in the other world), were the authors and doers of
this wickedness; for he was half inclined to belief in modern
spiritualism, and the partner who was in Europe was an
avowed spiritualist, his daughter, a sickly young lady of
eighteen or twenty years of age, being a "medium." It was
partly for her health's sake that the father had taken her to
Europe. Mr. Redding was confounded, as from time to time,
something more of much value, often of great value, was
missed. Finally he took up his lodgings for a few nights
//370.png
.pn +1
at the store, with an inside and an outside watchman, and
with an ugly watch-dog for a companion; but this did
no good, for valuables were still missed, and what was the
most perplexing thing, were apparently taken in the night.
Mr. Redding became sensibly weak, looked haggard, was
restless and nervous, and his family physician ordered him
to suspend work. Mr. Redding had great pride about this
matter, and all the clerks were put under an injunction of
secrecy in regard to the losses, and I have reason to
think they faithfully respected the mandate. This secrecy
was suggested as a matter of pride as well as prudence,
for Mr. Redding would not have had his brother merchants
in the city know of the troubles in his house for anything.
It would have led, he thought, to the financial injury of the
firm.

Finally, Mr. Redding was taken sick, and remained at
home for three days. On the second day he sent for me,
and showed me an advertisement he had caused to be put
in the Herald, calling for twenty clerks of experience in
the dry goods business, etc. "None need apply who
cannot produce the best certificates of character, and come
recommended by all parties in whose employ they may
have ever been." He named a box in the Herald office
as the place of address, and he already had sent his servant
to the Herald office, and when I arrived was opening one
of over fifty letters received. He showed me the advertisement
and responses with an air of pride.

"I have made up my mind that our salvation is in a
change of clerks," said he. "The innocent and guilty
must go alike. I will first dismiss twenty,--fortunately,
we make our contracts with clerks in such way that I can
do this,--and after twenty new ones are worked in, and
know our modes of doing business, I will dismiss all the
rest, and fill their places with new men. What do you
think of my new plan?"

I told him that, as a <i>dernier resort</i>, it was probably wise,
but that fruitless though had been our work heretofore, I
//371.png
.pn +1
nevertheless wanted to try further; and I proposed that he
go on and make the acquaintance of the new applicants privately,
examine their credentials, and get ready to receive
them, if wanted, in due time; but that so great and sudden
a change of clerks could not but tend to confuse his
customers, especially as many of their clerks had been
with him for years, and they would inevitably take many
of the customers with them; while he could not be sure
that the newly-incoming clerks would bring him any trade
at all. There was a wildness in Mr. Redding's eyes that
day, which looked to me precursory of insanity, and I felt
that anything like full espousal of his plan would excite
him, and perhaps hasten the wreck of his intellect. But
Mr. Redding got better, and reappeared at his store, and
he told me when I next met him thereafter, that he had no
heart to turn away some of his clerks who had been so
long his companions, and he found it impossible to select
the first twenty for decapitation.

Mr. Redding communicated his plan to Mr. Phillips, and
the latter, with his usual sagacity, opposed it, suggesting
several reasons, among which was one which weighed
much with Mr. Redding, to the effect that he could be no
surer of the honesty of the new clerks than of that of
the old, and that it was by no means certain that like
losses were not being suffered in other houses, and that
some of these new clerks might have been dismissed under
like circumstances to those which suggested the dismission
of his own clerks, and he added, "If you were to
dismiss the clerks, you would be obliged, in honor, to give
each one of them the best commendation for faithfulness
in business, and you could not conscientiously refuse to
add, 'for honesty and integrity.'"

"No, no; I could not do less; that is true," said Mr.
Redding; "and perhaps the new comers would bring certificates
from employers situated just as we are. I had
not thought of that."

There was the greatest respect on the part of the under
//372.png
.pn +1
clerks manifested towards Mr. Phillips, and I doubt not
that if he communicated this matter of the proposed
change, and his opposition to it, to them, that he won
upon their gratitude and regard still further. Mr. Phillips
was indeed a model man in every respect. He had not
only great business tact, but he had the refined manners
of a cultivated gentleman, and was evidently considerable
of a literary man withal, and was, I was told, a very happy
public speaker. He was, as I have before observed, a
man of ready expedients, of fertile inventive genius, and
it was difficult to see how the house could well get on
without him. But as the difficulties of the situation increased,
Mr. Phillips began to evince much wear and tear
of mind, and he told Mr. Redding, that though his contract
called for two years more of service (it had been
three years before), he thought he should be compelled to
ask that the contract be rescinded, and he would withdraw
from business for a while and get rest.

Mr. Redding would hear nothing of this; but, of course,
he could not oblige, nor would it have been expedient if he
could, Mr. Phillips to remain, and so, to cheer him up, and
secure his inestimable services longer, he agreed to advance
his salary from the beginning of the next month by
fifty per cent., and insisted that Mr. Phillips should give
up the old contract, and enter into a new one to that effect.
This was an unexpected turn of affairs for Mr. Phillips,
and of course stirred his deepest gratitude, and he entered
with renewed vigor into the matter of the detection of the
thieves--himself offering, as he did, to forego the pleasures
of his nights at home, in the bosom of his charming
family, and occupying a couch at the store with the watchman.
But this lasted only a week, for the robberies were
no less frequent during that week than before; and Mr.
Phillips began obviously to experience something of the
despair which had afflicted Mr. Redding when he slept at
the store. Mr. Phillips abandoned this course, and retired
again to his home for his nights' lodgings, "giving up all
//373.png
.pn +1
hope," as he expressed it, and sorely vexed that he had
entered into a new contract on any terms.

Mr. Redding, waiting for his partner, who was at the
South, to return, and greatly tried that he could get no
word from him, had resolved, finally, to carry out his plan
of dismissing all the clerks, and obtaining new, when the
partner suddenly came back, and being made acquainted
with the state of things, and feeling that Mr. Redding had
not pursued the wisest course, undertook to manage affairs
himself, by making each clerk responsible for all the goods
within such and such spaces, or in such and such lines of
wares. This scheme worked well for a few days; but the
clerks revolted at it, as one after another suffered losses,
and his partner became as much perplexed as was Mr.
Redding. It was evident now that if one clerk was to be
suspected of creating the "losses" which occurred in his
department, several were to be suspected, and the partner
finally coincided with Redding and Mr. Phillips, who had
finally given his judgment in favor of the plan of thorough
change, and they proceeded to put their plan in execution,
by dismissing ten clerks at first, and employing ten new
ones in their places, which was done.

The parting with some of the ten was quite affecting;
but each bore from the house the best possible written
commendation, and all were able, as I was afterwards told,
to secure good situations in other houses. But Mr. Redding
and his partner, seconded by Mr. Phillips, wished me
to continue my investigations as I had opportunity, and
settled with me up to the time, and I must add, generously,
thanks to Mr. Phillips, who suggested that though
we were all foiled, I was entitled to more than I charged,
for I had, he said, actually kept the house on its legs by
the moral support I had given Mr. Redding and him.

I tried to dismiss the matter from my mind, but the
chagrin I felt at having actually discovered nothing kept
it constantly in memory, although I was as constantly perplexed
with other and pressing business. I had by no
//374.png
.pn +1
means given up the matter finally, however; for I had
known too many cases before, where the desired knowledge
or evidence came only in accidental, or some most
unlooked-for ways, and that a long while after it was most
wanted, to give up all hope of solving this problem; and
finally, some three weeks from the time to which I last
refer, light began to dawn. I was on a hurried mission in
a Fourth Avenue horse-car, on my way to the New Haven
depot at 27th Street, in order to identify, if possible, a man
there held in temporary custody, as the man whom I was
seeking, charged with the commission of a crime in New
Jersey, when two ladies entered the car at 8th Street.
Both of them would have been elegantly dressed, only
that they were "over-dressed," and sparkling besides with
an abundance of jewelry, which suggested vulgar breeding
and sudden accession to wealth.

The car was already full, and as no one else stirred,--mostly
travellers with their bags, on their way to catch
the train Boston-ward,--I rose, and made place for one,
which was immediately taken, with a bow of grateful recognition
of my courtesy, for a wonder, by the better looking
of the ladies. I do not know whether there is such
a thing as magnetic attraction or not in the world, but
sure it is that somehow I felt that lady to bear some important
relation to my business before I observed her
dress particularly, and nothing could have been further
from my then present memory than that dress, and at first
I could not at once call to my mind where I had seen anything
like it; but suffice it that on slight inspection I discovered
it to be of the same pattern with the one I had
seen at Mr. Redding's store, with the twisted-column
"ribs." I felt that, perhaps, here was a clew at last to the
whole matter, but I was on business of equally great importance.
The ladies, perchance, might be going out on
the next train, but probably not. They might stop short
of 27th Street, and I <i>must</i> go there, and what should I do?
I surveyed the passengers, stepped to the front platform,
//375.png
.pn +1
and cast a look at a man there, and saw nobody whom I
could address, and we were making more than usually
rapid progress up.

I had half resolved in my mind to send word up by the
driver to 27th Street, and get him to stop, by giving him a
dollar, and run into the station-house, and say I would be
up before long, and to follow the ladies myself, when, at
the next crossing, there came on to the rear platform of the
car as bright a black-eyed boy, of Italian parentage, I saw
at once, as could have well been found in the city. He
had with him a basket, in which he carried some valuable
toys for sale. I took a fancy to the lad, and asked him
how old he was. "Thirteen," was the reply, though he
did not look over ten years of age. I asked him if
he wished to earn five dollars that afternoon. His eyes
sparkled, as he replied, "Yes." I inquired of him where
he lived, the number of his house, his name, that of his parents,
and so forth, and took them all rapidly down on my
diary.

"Now," said I, "here's my card. I am one of the officers
of the city, and could find you out in any part of the
city in the darkest night, and I want to make an officer of
you for a little while" (and the boy looked up with proud
wonder). "I will take your basket; you can come for it
to-morrow to my office, and here are two dollars for you
to begin with. I will give you the three dollars to-morrow,
and you may bring your father along with you, if you
like. I should like to see him, and may be, if you do well
in the matter I am going to tell you of, he'll let you go to
live with me, where you can make a great deal of money."

I had hit the right chord, and the boy was all ears. In
a low voice I told him of the two ladies in the cars, sent
him to look at them, without their seeing him eye them,
and come right out. I told him that I wished him to follow
them, keeping at a distance behind, not let them suspect
him, and if they separated, to follow the larger one
(the lady with the peculiar silk dress), and if she stopped
//376.png
.pn +1
in stores or houses, to wait till she came out, and not give
up watching her till he was sure she had stopped for the
last time that day, and was at her home, and to take the
number and street, so as to be able to go and point out
the place to me. "Could he do this nicely, and not be
suspected?"

The little fellow's pride was all aroused. He knew he
could do it "all right," and he would follow her into the
night, he said, if necessary. Then I told him where I
lived, and put the number on the back of my card, and
told him if he got hungry or benighted to come and stay
over night at my house. The little fellow had probably
never been treated with such distinction before, for the
tears came into his eyes. I had hardly got my arrangements
with him made when the bell announced that somebody
wished to get out at 22d Street, and forth came the
two ladies. I clapped his cap over the boy's eyes, that
the ladies might <target id='tn376'>not get a glimpse at those wonderful
"orbs" of his, and took him on to the next street, when I
let him off, with the injunction to "stick to it, and give me
a good report." I had told him to use his money for rides
in the omnibuses or cars, if necessary, and I would pay
him; and this seemed to make him still prouder.

I felt that that boy, whose name was Giuseppi Molinaro,--or
what would be plain Joseph Miller, in English,--would
do his duty. The wares in his basket, which I held,
were worth considerable more than two dollars, and I was
sure he would come back to me, and that he had too much
pride to come back with a poor report; and I went on to
27th Street, and fortunately identified my man there. Had
I sent up word by the driver, as at first I thought to do,
the fellow would have been let go, and would have soon
been in Connecticut, beyond our reach. A search, which
revealed a peculiar scar on his left thigh, the result of a
successful combat with a couple of officers years before,
revealed the villanous bank robber and wily scoundrel
in the general way, beyond question, and notwithstanding
//377.png
.pn +1
he almost made me believe, by his protestations of innocence
in spite of my fine memory of forms and countenances,
that I had not known him eight years before. He, being properly
taken care of, I returned to my home, thinking that
the boy might come there in the night, as he did, and with
an excellent report. The little fellow had followed instructions
to the letter, and I indulged him in a detailed narrative
of his exploits, which he gave with all the spirit
of his race. The ladies had led him a long chase, but fortunately
they had only resorted to cars and omnibusses,
had not taken hacks, and he had managed to keep them in
sight; and, to cut the matter short, he had tracked the lady
in the peculiar silk evidently to her own home.

I may properly stop here to say that Giuseppi's experience
that day gave him such impulse in the way of a detective's
life that he finally became an officer, and is to-day
one of the most efficient young men in his calling to be
found anywhere in this or any other country. Indeed, he
has become rich in his profession--a thing not usual with
detectives.

I had half suspected that these over-dressed ladies might
be traced into a house of ill-fame,--not that they looked
altogether like prostitutes of the most "respectable" class,
but there was enough in appearance to warrant a suspicion,--and
I had rather dreaded such a result of affairs,
because such people are so facile in the expedients of
lying, etc., that if that which the lady wore were indeed
the very dress-pattern stolen from the store, it would be
difficult to trace it into the hands of the thief. But the
boy had followed the lady into the respectable quarter of
19th Street, near 8th Avenue, and I felt at loss. I wanted
him to stay, and go with me early in the morning to the
place, but he could not. He said his father might punish
him, although he brought home five dollars and should tell
him his story. So I went home with him, and told his
parents,--he interpreting in parts,--what the boy had
done, and what I wanted. Mr. Molinaro was a very respectable
//378.png
.pn +1
looking man, and followed the business of an
engraver on wood, as well as that of a lithographer also,
and I took such an interest in the family as in time brought
the boy quite exclusively under my charge.

Giuseppi returned home with me, and very early the next
morning, before but a very few in the city were stirring,
he and I had taken notes of the house in 19th Street. It was
an easy matter, some two hours thereafter, to learn from
the nearest grocery-man, and a druggist in the vicinity, the
name and character of the occupants of the house in question,
and before two days had passed I had seen Mr. William
Bruce,--said to be an operator in Wall Street,--the
gentleman who occupied the place, enter and depart twice
from that house, and had recognized in him an old acquaintance.
But I had not possession of facts enough to warrant
my making complaint against him, and so I proceeded to
Mr. Redding's to burnish my memory as to the kind of
articles which had been stolen from the store, keeping the
secret of my special desire from Mr. Redding. His partner,
together with the faithful clerk, Mr. Phillips, had gone
to Cincinnati, to settle with some house which had just
failed, owing them quite an amount, and would not be back
under two days or so, and I had not the advantage of Mr.
Phillips's assistance in instructing me in what style of
goods had been taken; but I got as good descriptions from
Mr. Redding as he could give me, and the next morning
found me at the house on 19th Street, properly arrayed,
with tools and all, in the character of a servant of the
Croton Water Board, wishing to examine all the pipes,
faucets, etc., in the house.

Sarah Crogan, as she gave me her name,--a buxom,
laughing Irish girl,--heard my story, and let me in. I
told her to tell the mistress that I should be up stairs after
examining matters in the basement; when she informed me
that her master, Mr. Bruce, had gone off travelling somewhere,
and that her mistress went off the afternoon before,
to spend the night with a lady friend,--perhaps the one
//379.png
.pn +1
with whom I had seen her in the horse-car,--so I took
things easy; and with a good deal of joking and merry-making
with Sarah, managed to go all over the house, and
flattered Sarah with showing me a great deal of her mistress's
wardrobe, which was splendid indeed. (I confess I
thought of it with some degree of envy, when I reflected
what poor dresses, in comparison, a certain handsome and
honest woman, who was the mother of my own dear children,
was obliged to get along with.) And better than all,
I identified, on some unmade-up dress-patterns, two of what
I took to be, and what proved to be, of the peculiar cards
which Mr. Redding's house attached to its goods, with secret
cost-marks in ink. I had no difficulty in securing these
without exciting Sarah's suspicion, and having made all the
research I cared to, left the house, not without, however,
taking a cosy lunch with Sarah in the basement, and flattering
her, to such a degree, with the hope of future attentions
from me, that she agreed not to say anything about the
pipe-repairer's having been there. Finding a pair of scissors
in Mrs. Bruce's bedroom, I had made a few sly clippings
from some of the unmade-up goods, and encountering
the peculiar silk dress, hanging in a large closet with a
dozen more of other styles, I had jokingly shut myself in,
in a frolicsome way, with Sarah, long enough to make a
clipping from a broad hem in the inside of a sleeve of the
dress. I felt quite satisfied that Sarah would say nothing
of the Scotchman's having been there, for I assumed the
rôle of a Scotchman with her, which was by no means a
bad dodge, as Sarah was a North-of-Ireland lass, and no
Catholic.

Duly in another garb, I was at Mr. Redding's, and told
him my story. I took him into his private office, and told
him to be perfectly reticent,--to say nothing to anybody,
not even to his partner, or to his faithful clerk, Mr. Phillips,
when they should have returned, until I should see him
again; "for," said I, "the thief was one of your old clerks,
and Mr. Phillips's heart is so kindly and soft, and he evidently
//380.png
.pn +1
thinks so much of the man, and will be so overcome
with astonishment, that his sympathies may become aroused
to the extent of interceding for him, or giving him a timely
hint to 'clear out.'"

Mr. Redding could not comprehend this, but promised to
obey me, upon my saying to him that it was better always
that there should be just as few to keep a secret as possible,
however tried and trusted any might be.

I knew that I should have to take things by storm, so,
accompanying myself with a policeman, in the proper badge
and dress, I called on Mrs. Bruce the next day, and sending
for her, she came to the parlor, when I told her that I
had business with her husband, and asked where I could
find him. She produced the card of "William Bruce,
Dealer in Stocks, etc., 64 Wall Street," from a little pile in a
basket near at hand, which I took, and rising, thanked her,
and started for the door, as if about departing, my friend
doing the same; but reaching the door, I closed it. A slight
pallor had been discernible upon Mrs. Bruce's face, on her
entry into the room, evidently caused by the sight of a
policeman, and it deepened as I closed the door, and
said,--

"Mrs. Bruce, I am here with my friend, as an officer of
the law, to search your house. Your husband is not what
his card purports here, as you well know, but he is a
clerk in the employ of"--(naming Mr. Redding's house)--"and
is a thief. The most of your splendid wardrobe,
which I had the pleasure of inspecting in your absence
day before yesterday, is the result of his thefts; and I am
here prepared to take possession of it--preferring to do
so quietly rather than make any noise in the neighborhood.
I do not suppose that you have a guilty knowledge
of his crimes. He probably does not tell you of them,--and
I have no desire to do you any harm, or him either,--but
the firm must have back their property, or as much as
they can get; and as I see you possess a great deal of rich
//381.png
.pn +1
jewelry, I shall ask you to put the most of that into my
hands till your husband can settle with the firm."

She was perfectly stupefied through all this; declared
that she had no belief that Mr. Bruce was any other man
than he pretended to her to be; said she had had letters
from his sisters living in Pennsylvania, and that she believed
he was an honest man, and would gladly give up to
officers of the law anything in her possession, if it could
help him, to do so.

The upshot of the matter was, that several large trunks
left that house that day, filled with rare goods and wares,
and under the charge of the Mayor's clerk (for I had arranged
it with her that she might name anybody to take
charge of the goods). Sarah helped pack the trunks, and
rendered us great aid, all unconscious that I was the pipe-repairer,
her <i>quasi</i>-lover,--until just as I was leaving,
catching her alone, I whispered something in her ear, which
brought her astoundedly to her senses. She clasped my
hand with a convulsive "squeeze," and looked unutterably
into my eyes, quite as tragically as a fashionable lover, with
her heart just a little broken for the twentieth time might
have done, and said "Silence!" in response to my utterance
of the same word.

The goods were taken to a proper place of deposit, and
Mr. Redding was sent for, and succeeded in identifying
some of them as surely having been in his store,--the unmade-up
ones in particular,--and a peculiar shawl, of great
value, only three of which his house had imported, and he
knew where the other two had been sold. Mr. Redding
was very anxious to have me proceed at once to unmask
the clerk; but I told him that I preferred to await, for some
reasons, till the return of his partner, and that just as soon
as he returned I wished him to send me word, and a carriage
to take me, and say nothing at all to his partner till I
arrived. Two days elapsed and the message came. I was
fortunately at home, and took the carriage instantly, and
was off for the house. I found that the partner and Mr.
//382.png
.pn +1
//383.png
.pn +1
//384.png
.pn +1
Phillips had returned but an hour before from a very successful
trip to Cincinnati, and Mr. Redding and they were
in the counting-room congratulating themselves on their
success.

.pm illo i_382 i_382.jpg 700px "THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING."

"Well, Mr. Redding," said I, "I suppose it is time to tell
you my story. I am ready--"

"Stop," said he; <target id='tn384'>and turning to his partner and Mr.
Phillips, he said, "I've some good news to tell you, also.
Our friend here has been successful at last, and discovered
the thief, and we've got back many of the goods. Go on,
and tell us the story, for I don't know yet myself who the
thief is."

The partner and Mr. Phillips looked in wonder into our
and each other's eyes, and simultaneously said, "Yes, yes,
let's hear; and first," said Mr. Phillips, "let us hear the
scoundrel's name, if you have it, and then the rest of the
story."

"Ah, yes, sir," said I, "that <i>is</i> the point first. His name,
Mr. Phillips, is 'William Bruce, dealer in stocks, etc.' (so
his card says), '64 Wall Street.'"

Mr. Redding and the partner looked confused at the announcement
(for I had told Mr. Redding that it was "an
old clerk" of his), and Mr. Phillips, for a second, looked
confused for another reason, which confusion was somewhat
deepened, when I turned directly upon him, and said,--

"But Mr. Bruce has an alias, another name, and that is
Mr. <i>Charles Phillips</i>; and you, sir, are the scoundrel you
inquired for!"

Phillips turned pale as a ghost, and tried to say something,
but his voice failed.

"Mr. Phillips," said I, "the house in 19th Street has delivered
up its treasures. They are all in my possession,
together with your mistress's pearls, diamonds, and watches,
and everything valuable which she, as your 'wife,' would
permit me and the officer to take, and you are now my
prisoner, without the slightest possibility, on your part, of
escape from the full penalties of the law; and now I propose
//385.png
.pn +1
to send a carriage at once for 'Mrs. Bruce.' She, I am
sure, don't know of your guilt, and would be happy to
encounter her returned husband here in the person of Mr.
Charles Phillips, the time-old, confidential clerk of this
house."

Phillips reached out his hands imploringly to me, and
begged that I would not send for "Mrs. Bruce,"--said he
was justly caught, and was ready to confess all, without
our going to the trouble of a trial, and then commenced
crying like a girl--hysterically.

The astonishment of Mr. Redding and his partner can
better be imagined, perhaps, than portrayed here. I never
saw such a change come over a man as that which Mr.
Redding evinced. All his old strength seemed to come
back to him at once. He was inflexible and severe. He
said but few words, and these always to the purpose. His
disgust for Phillips was something sublime. "O, you pious
hypocrite!" said he; "you d----est of all 'whited sepulchres'
that ever disgraced our common humanity! I am
more angry that I have been so deceived by your pious
villany, than for all the anxiety and sickness you have
brought upon me. But, in your own pious cant, as you
have meted it to others, 'so shall it be meted unto you,'
you thief, libertine, and saintly class-leader!"

Mr. Redding's partner, on the other hand, was differently
affected. He cried, and said to Phillips, "O, Charles Phillips,
how could you? I know you must have had dreadful
temptations. It was all that woman: she spurred you on."

Phillips was silent for a moment; and I, who believed
the woman innocent of any knowledge of his crimes, waited
anxiously to hear what he would say in reply; and the hardened
man had the magnanimity to not shield himself behind
the woman, but said, "O, no; she knows nothing of my
guilt. She has not prompted me to it directly, but it was
to support and to please her that I, without her knowledge,
pursued my career of crime. I am the wickedest
'whited sepulchre,' as Mr. Redding calls me, that ever
//386.png
.pn +1
walked Broadway, or disgraced the inside of a church.
But I have got my punishment, in part, now, and I am
ready, if you demand it, to suffer the penalties of the law;
but for my wife's and children's sake, I could wish that I
could compromise with you, and go away from New York
forever." (His family resided in Brooklyn.)

To cut the tale short, I will only add, that Mr. Redding
unbent, in the course of a day or two, sufficiently to let
Phillips off, on his promise to go at once to New Orleans,
where he had relations, and never show his face again in
New York.

The goods were returned--made and unmade dresses,
and all; and the jewelry amounted to nearly enough to
cover the best estimate of the losses which we could make.
Phillips made a full confession of how he did things. He
was sly and wily, and easily abstracted such goods as he
desired, and doing them up himself, sent them off by the
porter, when sending out other packages. One of the porters
remembered to have gone many times with packages
for Mr. or Mrs. William Bruce; and he also, he said, sent
packages to various hotels, to impossible names, and marked
on the corner, "To be called for;" and being able to describe
the goods, if any query arose as to the propriety of
giving the package to him, always succeeded in getting
it. It was thus he managed.

The house, at my suggestion, very generously furnished
Mrs. Bruce with three months' support, out of compliment
to her giving up the goods without resistance, and in order
to give her time to turn about and find something to do;
for, though unmarried, by legal formula, to Phillips, as Mr.
Bruce, she supposed herself his legal wife under the laws
of the State, and was by no means a bad woman. Indeed,
she was a good woman at heart; and after in vain trying to
get together a little private school, as the widow of William
Bruce,--for she insisted on being called Mrs. Bruce,--she
turned to dressmaking, and did very well; and being
a fine-looking, indeed, a showy woman, succeeded, in the
//387.png
.pn +1
course of two years after Phillips's flight, in winning the
affections of a much older man than Phillips, but a wealthy
and honest one; and was duly, and this time, with much
ceremony, married.

I did not meet Sarah Crogan again for over five years
from the time I last saw her at 19th Street; but she had
not forgotten the Croton Water Company's man. She had
married meanwhile; but she vowed that it came "nare
breakin' her heart, so it did," when she discovered that the
"bould officer of the law" was her sweetheart of a day or
two before, and had but "thricked" her into letting him go
all over the house, "like a wild rover!"
//388.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=forcedmarriage
A FORCED-MARRIAGE SCHEME DEFEATED.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
GOSHEN, CONN.--A LADY STRANGER THERE--A PILGRIMAGE TO GOSHEN,
VIA THE FAR-FAMED MOUNTAIN TOWN OF LITCHFIELD--THE BEAUTIFUL
WIDOW--AN UNPLEASANT REMINISCENCE OF DR. IVES, LATE BISHOP
OF NORTH CAROLINA--MORE ABOUT THE WIDOW--SHE LEAVES FOR
NEW YORK--AT THE "MANSION HOUSE," LITCHFIELD--A MARKED
CHARACTER ENCOUNTERED THERE--MR. "C. B. LE ROY" STUDIED
AND WEIGHED--THE BEAUTIFUL WIDOW AND LE ROY MEET--HER FACE
DISCLOSES CONFLICTING EMOTIONS--MR. LE ROY AND THE BEAUTIFUL
WIDOW, MRS. STEVENS, TAKE A WALK DOWN SOUTH STREET, IN THE
"PARADISE OF LOAFERS"--SYMPATHIES SILENTLY EXCHANGED--WE
ALL START FOR THE "STATION"--THE STAGE-COACH "TURNS OVER"--THE
AFFRIGHTED LE ROY REVEALS HIS MANNERS--A PECULIAR SCENE
IN THE CARS--AT BRIDGEPORT I PRESENT MYSELF TO MRS. STEVENS--AT
NEW YORK AGAIN--A TALE OF COMPLICATIONS--MRS. STEVENS IN
DEEP TROUBLE--A FRIEND OF HERS SEEKS ME--REVELATIONS--A
FEARFUL STORY--A SECRET MARRIAGE AND UNHAPPY CONSEQUENCES--THE
WRETCH LE ROY WANTS THE WIDOW'S MONEY--A TRAP SET FOR
LE ROY--HE FALLS INTO IT--THE WEDDING SCENE DISARRANGED--THE
WIDOW SAVED, AND THE INTENDED FORCED MARRIAGE DEFEATED.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>In</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
In
.if-
the summer of 185-, I had occasion to visit my
brother, who was a clerk in a wholesale grocery store
of one Lyman, on Water Street, I think, and who, being
consumptively inclined, had, at Mr. Lyman's suggestion,
and through his kindness, gone to the town of Goshen,
Litchfield County, Connecticut, to spend a few weeks in
the genial family of Mr. Lyman's father, and taste the
bracing air of the hills of Litchfield County, so far-famed.
So delighted was my brother with his "country home," as
he called it, that he wrote me as often as once a week, and
sometimes twice, varying his letters, in the enthusiasm
with which they were filled over the mountain scenery,
//389.png
.pn +1
the fresh air, the excellent hunting, the rides and drives,
with now and then a word about a beautiful, mysterious
lady, supposed to be from New York, and by some
supposed to be a widow,--a gentle, sweet, good woman,--who
bore some grief or other in her soul, as was evident,
he said, but who, with excellent good sense, kept
her affairs to herself, and would not obligingly recite the
history of her life to the gossiping villagers of that country
town, who, like those of all other towns away from the
centres of business, and not even on the line of any great
thoroughfare, "must have something to busy themselves
about," and therefore mind each other's business considerably.

Goshen is reached by stage, a common country mail
stage only, of the cheapest pattern, running up from Litchfield,
several miles north. Litchfield itself being four or
five miles from the station on the Naugatuck Railroad, and
reached only over a heavy and steep road, at points almost
perpendicular to the horizon, and withal a dangerous ride,
if the stage-horses are not kept perfectly in hand. I did
not know of this road, and the jolting character of the
stages from the station to Litchfield, and from Litchfield on
to Goshen, or all the alluring words of my brother's letters
might not have seduced me into acceptance, finally, of his
invitation. But I went up to Goshen, and once there, in
the society of my brother, and some genial citizens to
whom he presented me, passed four or five days of my
stolen vacation most pleasantly.

The supposed widow--and who proved to be one in
fact--had, at the time I arrived in Goshen, ceased to be
talked about so generally as before, had won everybody's
respect and kindness, and had taught the villagers one
good lesson--the value of little, rather than great curiosity,
about others and their business, by her impenetrable
silence upon those matters about which they had no
right to know anything.

In her daily promenades with her little bouncing girl,
//390.png
.pn +1
of about five years of age, she passed by the house where
I stopped, and one day, when my brother and I were taking
the air along the public street, we met her. My brother--who
knew her, but not well enough to arrest her in her
walk, and present me--bowed to her, and on her turning
up her face to respond to his salute, I felt that I had never
seen such chastened beauty before. There was a slight
evidence of a present, or the mark of a former grief or
suffering in that rich face, which only seemed, however,
to add to its beauty, or rather the soul-beauty which beamed
through it. I felt as if I would almost be glad if that woman
were to suffer some dire calamity, if I could only have
the privilege of relieving her from it.

Years before, I had heard the late Dr. Ives, formerly
Episcopal Bishop of North Carolina, but who had then become
a Roman Catholic, lecture one night in the old Tabernacle,
on Broadway, New York. His discourse touched
upon charity. He said, among other things, in substance,
that God made some people miserable in order that others
might cultivate the sweet grace of charity in their own
hearts, by administering to their sufferings! I thought it
a monstrous doctrine, and felt like throwing a book, which
I chanced to have with me, at the doctor's head. But when
I found myself imagining misery for that sweet woman, in
order that I might abate it, the doctor's discourse came
back to memory with a new meaning; and, in fact, I don't
know but I could have seen a horse run over her, breaking
an arm, <i>if</i> I could have been on the spot in time to so
far save her as to prevent a probable imminent death.

The reader may well judge that my emotions were not
of a faint nature, but such as it would be less improper for
me to express here, perhaps, had I not at that time been
a married man, with one of the best of soulful wives at
home, longing for my return "from the country." But
strange thoughts sometimes rise in the greedy souls of
men, and we would love to possess, in order to make them
happy, all the good beings of both sexes in the world.
//391.png
.pn +1

Mrs. Stevens--for so we will call her for the sake of
a name--announced to the family, with whom she was
stopping a day or two before I was to leave, that she was
necessitated to return to New York in a day or two. The
family were astonished, because she had previously declared
her intention to remain a month longer. Of course everybody
in the village soon heard of her intended departure,
and all begged her to stay. I was a little surprised; but
I said to my brother, "Her leaving so suddenly has some
connection with that grief which we remarked in her face.
She'll probably go by the same stage with me, and I'll
learn more of her."

The morning of my departure came, and brother said he
would ride down to Litchfield with me, and we took the
lumbering stage together, confident that we should "take
up" Mrs. Stevens on our way; but the stage passed the
house at which she boarded, without her! The driver
said she had started out before him, in a private wagon,
with a neighbor, who was going to Litchfield, and I felt
easier; that I should, in short, still be able to keep my
eye on her, and learn her evidently mysterious history,
and possibly yet have the gratifying opportunity of being
of service to her.

We rode on. Stage-drivers in the country, with their
two-horse teams, have a peculiar pride in out-driving the
one-horse vehicles which they may come upon on the road,
and our ordinarily slow old driver became quite a Jehu
that morning, and drove past two or three teams which
we overtook on the way, one of them being that which
bore the beautiful widow and her no less beautiful child,
and we arrived in Litchfield before them, alighting at the
"Mansion House," the chief hotel of that centre of country
aristocracy--a centre once of the best talent in the land,
when Calhoun, and many other great men of the nation,
were students there, under such other great men as Judges
Reeve and Gould, of the once famous Law School.

Mrs. Stevens had received letters nearly every day, it
//392.png
.pn +1
was said, while in Goshen, and it had been remarked that
she had had letters as often as every other day from somebody,
evidently a man, who wrote a peculiar hand, as the
superscriptions showed. This, the family with whom she
boarded, and who brought the letters from the post office
to her, had said. My brother had occasion to carry up
the letters for that family once or twice, and had remarked
the peculiar style of writing in the address of letters to
Mrs. Stevens.

We naturally went into the office of the hotel, and brother,
carelessly turning over the register, and noting the arrivals
of the evening before, called to me: "See here--here's
a 'mare's nest,' perhaps. I would swear that the
man who writes so much to Mrs. Stevens wrote that
name," said he, pointing to an inscription--"C. B. Le Roy,
New York,"--made in a style which it would be almost
impossible to successfully imitate; as markedly singular
as a style of writing could well be. "I will swear it. What
do you think?" asked my brother.

"Why, nothing, only that Mr. Le Roy is here, and that
his coming accounts for the sudden departure of Mrs.
Stevens. We must get a view of him," I said.

I had hardly uttered the words, before a man entered
the room, and said to the young man behind the desk of
the office,--

"Is not that Goshen stage behindhand this morning?
I thought it was to arrive a half hour ago."

"Yes, sir, 'tis a little late this morning, but it has come,"
replied the young man.

"Come?" exclaimed the man; "and whom did it bring?"

"Those two men only," said the clerk. The man inquiring
was a dark-complexioned, black-whiskered fellow,
dressed a little <i>outre</i>, in a dandy-sort of style, had a half-professional
look, but something very hard in the muscles
of his cheek. He was evidently a little vexed at the
stage's having brought no other freight, and a little
nervous withal; and when in one of those spasms of
//393.png
.pn +1
nervousness in which men do this or that, or what not,
without consciousness, he raised his hat from his head, I
saw in him the imperious, heartless wretch, who could do
anything which his baseness might chance to incline him
to. He could play the merciless tyrant--if need were,
cold-blooded, and without a pulse of sympathy for any suffering:
and I saw more. That head was one never to be
forgotten in its singular shape; a head that sends a thrill
of disgust through one; and I at once saw that "C. B.
Le Roy" (for I was sure the man before me was the man
who had made the entry in the strange handwriting), was
no other than a very wicked, low-lived lawyer, of whom
I had had occasion to know something; but the name Le
Roy was assumed. At last the wagon came, and Mr. "Le
Roy" was on the piazza in time, having been pacing the
hall, evidently making up his mind to do something, he
knew not what--something desperate, perhaps; and he
bounded across the "walk" in front of the house, reached
out his hand to Mrs. Stevens, caught the little girl in his
arms first, and handed Mrs. Stevens to the ground.

I happened to be watching the scene. The lady's face,
on which for a moment was a forced smile, betrayed terribly
conflicting emotions in her soul, as she passed into the
hotel parlor behind Le Roy, who led the little girl playfully
by the hand.

"That Le Roy is a villain," said I to my brother; "and
that woman is in some way in his power. There is no attraction
between them. She hates him. But he has her
in his grasp. If it were not that the Goshen people think
they know she has not much money, I should believe that
he either has funds of hers in his possession, or that he is
doggedly persisting in wringing them from her."

"O, no, brother," replied my brother. "You detectives
are always looking out for evil. I don't like that scamp's
looks myself. I guess he's a bad fellow; but why not
put the most natural construction upon the matter; that
is, that the fellow is in love with that beautiful woman, as
//394.png
.pn +1
almost every other man in the world might be; for there
isn't one in ten thousand like her; and that she, like thousands
of other women, loves a scamp. They have met
here evidently by appointment. He's going to take her
home."

"But didn't you see how she looked?" I asked.

"Yes; but she's a prudent woman; wasn't going to exhibit
her affection outdoors, where she might be discovered
by a dozen; besides, that neighbor who brought her
might have an unpleasant story to tell. I know him and
he's as gossipy as an old woman; she knows him, too, of
course."

"But my opinion is formed, brother," said I. "I shall
keep an eye on them, and I'll let you know in time, all
about it. I haven't told you yet that I know that scamp.
I detest him. He is no less than ----;" but my brother
chanced not to have heard of him, and so the conversation
dropped for the moment.

We were obliged to wait for the stage to the station for
some two hours; and Mr. Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens sallied
out with the little girl, to enjoy the fine air, perhaps, of
the morning, and sauntered down "South Street," so I
think it is called; a fine broad avenue, lined with beautiful
elms, and on which are many of the residences of the
principal "nabobs" of that old town of Litchfield, which
somebody has facetiously termed "The Paradise of Loafers"--elegant
ones. In summer, many people from cities,
far and near, spend weeks and months at Litchfield; and
my brother and I followed along after Le Roy and Mrs.
Stevens, for I was bound to study him then and there as
much as possible. We noticed that all of the promenaders
who were coming in the opposite direction,--and there
were several out that morning,--gazed upon Mrs. Stevens
with expression of wonder at her beauty; and then seemed
to look from her to her attendant with shrugs of the
shoulders and a leer of the eyes, as they instinctively read
his true character.
//395.png
.pn +1

There is a magnetism about the coarser villains, a something
indescribable and individual too, not of the same
kind and degree in all, which discloses their real nature,
however much they may try to hide it. As well might a
short man hope to appear tall. But the great, successful
villains, the keen men, who succeed by their genius, and
not so much by force, constitute another class; genial,
affable, often very delicate and refined in their appearance,
attractive in short, especially to women. Indeed,
they seem to work a spell over nearly every woman they
meet. Le Roy was one of the coarser class, whose villanous
natures the tailor's art cannot hide, however neatly
they may be dressed,--and he was much adorned that
day.

We followed on behind Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens at a
respectful distance. Occasionally Le Roy cast a glance behind;
but we were occupied with our own fun and laughter,
or were busily engaged looking at this or that place, or
distant scene, whenever he did so. The conversation between
him and her was apparently one of an intense nature,
he gesticulating considerably, in a forcible manner,
and I noticed that when she turned up her face to look at
him, as she did when evidently answering some question
of his, there was visible a painful expression of fear of
something, and I was sure it must be of him.

She kept a little space between herself and him, leading
her child on the side nearer him or when the child at
times ran on before, I observed that she "sidled" away
from him, as if too near approach were pollution. I thought
her manifestations unmistakable; and there was in his
actions something which was as readily translatable, to
the extent, at least, that he felt he had an important victim
in his power; and so he had, as the sequel proved; but not
so surely as he thought--the villain!

Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens continued their walk far down
the street, and turned about to go back. I said to my
brother, "Engage his eyes as we meet, and I will study
//396.png
.pn +1
her face." Soon we met. Brother stared him so directly in
the face as to secure his whole attention. He seemed to
wince, my brother said; and I looked into the face of Mrs.
Stevens,--how beautiful!--and I was conscious that I
must have expressed a deep sympathy, for I felt it. Something
told me that she felt it, too. There was a slight
flush upon her cheek, and a kindly, prayerful look in her
eye, like one needing sympathy, and we passed each other.

"You are right," said my brother, as we got well past;
"that man <i>is</i> a villain, without doubt. I don't think it is
love, or even a desire to possess that woman for himself,
which moves him; there's a 'wheel within a wheel,' here
somewhere."

I asked my brother to describe to me minutely then the
looks of the villain as we passed him, for I had half a fear
that he might suspect we were watching him. But from
what my brother said, I concluded that the fellow was not
suspicious of us. They returned to the hotel in due time.
He dogged her every step, and she kept aloof from him
as much as possible. Finally the time to depart came, and
we took the stage together, my brother bidding me good
by, shaking my hand with a firm grasp, just as the stage
started, and saying,--

"I hope you will have the best success."

There was a fervor in his tone, coming from his good
heart, which strengthened me, and moved me to stronger
resolves than ever to ferret out the iniquity which I knew
Le Roy must be engaged in.

Mrs. Stevens took the back seat, with her child next to
her, and Le Roy crowded in at the other end of it; and
although there were only another man and myself as
passengers besides, I took the front seat, facing them, in
order to have opportunity to study them as quietly as
possible.

Le Roy attempted conversation at various times. The
lady answered him in monosyllables--not inclined at all
to carry on the conversation. She seemed to me to be
//397.png
.pn +1
hopeless; looked like one who would rather not be than
to be, and quite frequently looked down into her child's
eyes with gleams of evident pity, and would then turn
away her head, and express, what I took to be, despair.

An unfortunate circumstance took place just as we had
passed a few rods down the ridge of the great hill, or
mountain, which divides Litchfield from "Litchfield Station."
There had been a terrible shower the day before,--one
of those sudden rains, which come on, gathered up
by a fierce wind, and pour down in torrents. The road
was badly gullied, and men were there repairing it, having
scraped great heaps of earth into the road, not yet
spread.

"Can I get by?" asked the driver of the coach of some
of them.

"Yes, go ahead; Seymour's team just went along."

The driver pushed on, not checking his horses sufficiently,
and coming upon a heap in which was concealed a large
stone, the stage toppled, trembled for a second, and we
went over, amidst the screams of Mrs. Stevens and her
child, and the affrightened groan, "O, O," in a mean, cowardly
voice of Le Roy. There was a momentary plunging
of the horses and dragging of the stage. The men on
the road were at the coach in a moment. The stage had
fallen over on the side on which Mrs. Stevens sat, and Le
Roy was stepping on her in his attempt to get himself upright,
without an apparent particle of consciousness of her
presence. Being thrown on my knees, I pushed him upward
with my hands, saying,--

"You'll kill this lady, and her child" (who, fortunately,
was lying back of her mother, out of harm's way, however);
"why don't you take care, sir, what you are
doing?"

The brutal eyes of the man looked at me with wrath.

"I'll mind my own business, sir," said he, "without your
interference!" I pushed him up still harder, and looked
at the same instant into the beautiful suffering face of Mrs.
//398.png
.pn +1
//399.png
.pn +1
//400.png
.pn +1
Stevens. She gave me a knowing look, as her face was
suffused with contempt for the brutal remark of Le Roy.

.pm illo i_398 i_398.jpg 700px "BREAK-DOWN ON LITCHFIELD HILL."

In aiding her to get out of her painful position, which I
did as soon as Le Roy was out of the way, I saw that I
had won her respect, and I thought, too, something of her
confidence. The stage was uprighted, and went on to the
station safely enough, where I, alighting first, gave her
my hand to help her out, and took out her little girl; and at
once, with a bow, and steady look in the face, of that sympathy
I felt, turned away, for I saw that Le Roy was angry,
and I thought he would vent his anger upon her. I
kept out of his sight till they had taken a car of the train
which now came down the road, and going into the rear
of the same car, and on the opposite side, where I could
see her face to advantage, took my seat a little in the
rear.

Much did Le Roy try to talk; but Mrs. Stevens was not
to be provoked into much conversation. The little girl,
who sat in the seat before them, and facing them,--her
seat having been turned back,--was constantly looking
at me; and at my distance I got up a childish "flirtation"
with her, which seemed to annoy Le Roy. He looked
back several times only to find me smiling, and tried to
smile, or pretended to, himself; but such a man can never
smile warmly. We arrived at Bridgeport, where we had
to tarry but a short time,--half an hour, perhaps,--before
taking the New York train.

I saw that Le Roy had gone out, probably to get a
strong drink at some saloon, opposite the depot, there; and
I entered the ladies' room, and diverting the child for a
moment, with some other children, so as to be able to
speak a word to the mother, I said, "Madam, I am a detective
police officer. I see that you are in deep trouble
of some kind. I do not wish to know what, now; but
here is my private card. That's the number of my residence.
If you ever need aid, come to my house, and if I
am not at home, see my wife, and arrange with her as to
//401.png
.pn +1
where you can find me. I am not, madam, seeking business;
I will gladly serve you without reward."

"O, sir, I thank you; may be I <i>shall</i> want you," was
uttered in reply, in tones, accompanied by a look, too,
which told the deep grief of her heart.

I had hardly time to get away when Le Roy came back.
In choosing my car for the train to New York, I watched
them again, and took the same car, but failed to secure so
favorable a position, although I kept them in sight.

Having given my trunk into the hands of the solicitor
for the express company, who passes through the cars
when near New York, I took a carriage, and ordered the
driver to follow the one taken by Le Roy and Mrs. Stevens,
and to keep at a respectful distance. We followed on; at
last they alighted, Le Roy resuming his carriage, and driving
on.

Knowing now the lady's residence, it was no trouble for
me, in a few days' time, to learn her history, so far as generally
known to her friends. She was a teacher, formerly
from Vermont, and had married a Mr. Stevens some years
before,--a man supposed to be rich,--the son of a very
wealthy man. During her husband's life she had been
well cared for. He had gone abroad for some reason,
had died in Europe something like a year or so before,
and she was, obviously, now comparatively poor. This
was the substance of all I could learn. On my arrival
home that day, I told my wife about Mrs. Stevens, what
I had seen, etc. Her interest in her became as deep
as mine, and often afterwards, for a long while, she would
say, "I wonder what has become of that poor Mrs.
Stevens!"

The duties of my calling constantly connecting me with
other people's miseries, had, after a lapse of a few months,
quite driven Mrs. Stevens from my mind. As she had not
sought me, I inferred that her troubles had been settled;
and so she had vanished almost from memory, when, one
day, on returning home, I found that a lady had been to
//402.png
.pn +1
my house, told my wife of the sufferings of a Mrs. Stevens,
who had my card, on which she had written "Detective
officer." This woman knew that Mrs. Stevens was in great
affliction; that she had been oppressed for months, by a
wretched man by the name of Le Roy; that there was
something wrong; that Mrs. Stevens was to soon marry
this fellow, although the woman knew well enough that
she could not and did not like him--in fact hated him, for
they had overheard some words between them. Her sympathies
were so great for her that she wanted somebody
better able than she, she said, to find out the trouble, and
save Mrs. Stevens.

I asked my wife, on her telling me where this woman
lived,--in the same building with Mrs. Stevens,--how
the woman looked, how she was dressed; for I was surprised
at finding her in that quarter of the city. "O,"
she said, "plainly, poorly, but neatly dressed--looked like
a sempstress." And I at once saw that misfortune had
been playing with Mrs. Stevens, she having gone down
from a somewhat elegant boarding-house into a respectable
but poor quarter.

My wife had told the lady that I would look into the
matter; and that night I made haste to visit her, calling on
the other lady first, to find whether I might obtrude upon
other callers. I found that I might call without intrusion;
and Mrs. Stevens expressed great pleasure at seeing me.
After a few words had passed, I told her I knew she was
in trouble, and asked her why she had not demanded my
services, which were ever ready for her.

"O, sir," said she, "my troubles took such a shape that
I knew you could not help me--nobody can. I am driven
on by despair; but for my child, I think I should have
long since committed the crime of suicide," and the tears
streamed from her eyes.

I was so convulsed with sympathy that I could hardly
speak, but mustering as firm a voice as I could, I said,
"Madam, have hope. There never was a case so desperate
//403.png
.pn +1
yet, but some chance of escape might be involved in it.
I do not wish to pry into your affairs, but I know you are
suffering wrongfully, and I could wish that you might tell
me enough to enable me to see if I cannot help you; and
let me say here, that I know enough already to be aware
that your chief trouble is in some way connected with
Le Roy."

"Le Roy!--do you know him? "she exclaimed. "Ah,
I forget. You know him, of course; but do you know any
more about him than travelling with him that day--and
what do you know?"

"Yes, I know him as a miserable villain,--heartless and
coarse."

"I think you must know him, for he is all that you call
him. That he is heartless and coarse, repulsive and tyrannical,
is true. I do not know that he is criminal; but I
fear he is. Do you know?"

"Yes, he is; as such a nature could not well otherwise
be--"

"O, then my condition is worse than I thought," said
she, sobbing.

I consoled her all I could, and in the result induced
her to acquaint me with her story,--and it was a fearful
one, in many respects,--which I shall not here relate;
bad enough, as you will see, in those which I shall tell. It
was, in brief, this. She had married privately the son of a
wealthy man, who had intended that his son should form
an alliance with the daughter of an old schoolmate of his,
a wealthy New York merchant, residing in Brooklyn.
But the young man could conceive no affection for this
young lady--revolted; declared that he had a right to
choose a wife for himself. His father, who had intended to
get him up in business with a large capital, being angry
with his son's refusal to even attempt the alliance he
desired for him, turned him off with only a comparatively
small amount of money, and threatened that if he ever
married anybody else but the girl he desired him to marry,
//404.png
.pn +1
he would cut him off in his will. The son, falling in love
with the lady in question, married her privately; and it so
chanced that Le Roy, happening to be at the minister's
house, calling on a servant girl, at the time of the marriage,
was called in with the girl as a witness. The son, Mr.
Stevens, had gone to Europe, and died there. But, just
before his death, his father had died intestate, and the son's
child became entitled to her part--a fourth, if I rightly
recollect--of a large estate; but there was no evidence
of the marriage save that which Le Roy could furnish; as
the servant girl had gone nobody knew where. An advertisement
in the Herald had failed to find her,--she might
be dead,--and the minister who performed the ceremony
could not identify Mrs. Stevens. But Le Roy, when
hunted up by Mrs. Stevens, recognized her, and seeing
here a chance to make money,--she having unfortunately
told him why she needed his testimony,--refused to swear
to his signature unless she would marry him, pretending
at once to fall violently in love with her. And the poor
woman had gone on resisting his offer of marriage, till at
last driven to almost distraction, and mourning over the
future of her child, she had consented, for her sake, to
marry the wretch. She had told him that she would try
to become guardian for her child in the Surrogate's Court,
and would save all she could from her allowance from year
to year for him. But the father having died first, and the
son having right, therefore, to a large amount of personal
property, which would become in good part his wife's, if
the estate should happen to be so divided that she got
other than real estate for his share, the scamp saw that
he would likely have the handling of the funds, so deemed
that he might possibly induce her to give all to him, to get
rid of him--would not yield the point. Marry him she
should, or she and her child might starve.

At last, having been constantly dogged by him in the
city,--he having written her letters almost daily while at
Goshen,--having followed her as far as Litchfield, and
//405.png
.pn +1
written her a letter compelling her to return to the city,
that he might have more immediate communication with
her, she, to save herself from poverty, and from the greater
motive of preserving her child from want, and to secure
her just rights, had consented to marry him within a week.
Every day was adding to her gloom and distress. She
loathed the man; but she saw no way out of the trouble
but to marry him, privately, whereupon he was to go forward
and swear to his signature, his presence at her marriage
to Mr. Stevens, etc.

The widow cried bitterly. I sympathized deeply with
her. I could see no way out of the dilemma; but I reflected
that one might possibly be hunted out; and I said to
her, "Madam, don't give up hope till the last minute.
We've time to work a little yet. Something will turn up
to aid you--be sure of it."

"O," said she; "O, I hope, I pray there may; and--yet,
O my child! my child!--O, I fear I am doomed!"

I consoled her all I could, and left her, agreeing to return
duly. Getting out upon the street, and taking a few listless
steps, I conjured my brain for an expedient. At last
I resolved to devote myself to the work of freeing that
woman at all hazards; and instantly I had firmly fixed that
resolve, I felt (for some reason which is inscrutable to me,
unless the doctrine of our having "guardian angels" is
true), that a new power of thought possessed me; and I
seemed to see the straight way out of this difficulty at
once; and although it did not prove a way of thornless
roses, exactly, I did see it pretty clearly--for I hit upon
a man who proved able to give me just such information as
I wanted; and I went straightway to my old friend, Jordan
Williams, formerly a detective, and who, I thought, knew
Le Roy. I told my story in confidence to Williams, and
said, "Now if we can manage in some way to get Le Roy
into limbo for some of his misdeeds, we can frighten him
out of this scheme, and make him give the requisite testimony."
//406.png
.pn +1

"Yes, yes," said Williams, "and although I am no Jesuit,
yet if ever the 'end justified the means,' whatever they
are, it would in this case. Le Roy is guilty of a thousand
crimes, but he has some sort of influence with the courts
and officers, and we could not get him up on any former
crime. He must be guilty of a fresh one. Let's see; let
me manage this part. They are to be married within a
week? Well, I saw Le Roy day before yesterday; he
looked rather seedy for a bridegroom. He asked me then
if I could loan him a little money, which I of course refused
to do. Ah, I have it; he must want a suit of clothes, and
other things; I'll fall in his way to-night, and if he asks for
money, as he will, I will give him a check for fifty dollars
on my bank. I have three thousand dollars and over, there,
now. My habit is to always make figures (I hate to write
out the full words,--you know I don't write over well),--and
then fill up the blank with a line. On the back I'll put
the figures $500. He'll see that, and I'll leave a little
space after the figures $50, on the face, for another
'nought.' I'll have a witness to the size of the draft,
before I hand it to him. He'll surely never let such a
chance go. He'll want five hundred to splurge with on
his bridal tour, you see, and he'll think he can make it all
right with me."

Williams's ingenious plan worked. Le Roy wanted one
hundred dollars. Williams declared he would not let him
have but fifty--he must borrow the other fifty elsewhere;
and he wrote out a note for fifty for Le Roy to sign, payable
in ten days from that time, as Le Roy wished it, and
gave the check to him, having first shown it to a friend,
who put a private mark on it.

Le Roy fell into the trap. Next day the five hundred
dollars were drawn--early, too; for only late in the morning
Williams went to the bank to draw out his deposit, in
order to learn whether the draft had been presented. The
bank, of course, in rendering his account, debited him,
among other things, with the five hundred dollars, at which
//407.png
.pn +1
he expressed astonishment and indignation, as was his
right to do, and refused to settle with the bank that morning,
and they held on to the draft of course.

Williams lost no time in communicating with me, and
I hastened to the widow's; told her to be a little more yielding
to Le Roy; to put on a more pleasant face, and to abide
the result, with the assurance that she was to be delivered
from the clutches of Le Roy at last; giving her some
money to assist her in her distress. I advised her how
to proceed with the arrangements for the marriage; went
home and instructed my wife, who took as much interest
in poor Mrs. Stevens's fate as did I; put her in communication
with Mrs. S.; and it was finally arranged that the
wedding should take place at a cousin's of mine, who occupied
a house in a very respectable portion of the city,
and who, and whose wife, were let into the secret so far as
proper. Mrs. Stevens was to represent this lady to Le
Roy as an old friend of hers, whom she had come across
of late, and who was assisting her.

Mrs. Stevens was all this while kept profoundly in the
dark as to what course was finally to be pursued; and notwithstanding
she borrowed much confidence from my perfect
confidence, yet I could see that she was nervous, and
feared a little that after all she might be victimized to
Le Roy.

I saw to it that the legal portion of the matter was
properly attended to. Williams settled with the bank under
protest, alleging that the draft was a forgery, etc., the
cashier agreeing to identify Le Roy when called upon; and
at the last moment he was let into the secret that Le Roy
was to be arrested on the night of the proposed wedding,
and with Williams was duly on hand at the house, and
properly secreted. Officers, two of them, were engaged
to follow Le Roy, and at a given signal from me, were to
enter the house. Mrs. Stevens had been allowed the
choice of a minister; but the people of the house thought
best to secure the minister of the church which they attended.
//408.png
.pn +1
//409.png
.pn +1
//410.png
.pn +1
Le Roy came in a carriage that evening, in great
style. He was going to take the next train to Philadelphia,
with his bride. He was as well arrayed as the great
house of Devlin & Co. could dress him, and had probably
borrowed, or by hook or by crook had procured a valuable
diamond pin; and looked like a--well, a polished scoundrel;
but he could not hide the intrinsic villany of that
face. The cashier of the bank was a notary public, and
had, at my request, brought along his seals and stamp. I
should add that my cousin had invited in several friends,
who came in partial evening dress, making quite a lively
party.

.pm illo i_408 i_408.jpg 700px "THE CEREMONY DEFEATED."

I was flitting about, making myself generally useful, and
so disguised that Le Roy had no notion who I was. The
time appointed for the ceremony drew on. Poor Mrs. S.
was in a flutter. Le Roy tried to sooth her, took her aside
and talked to her a little; put her arm in his; looked very
proud, but a little provoked, as if he feared that at last
she'd fail him--faint away, perhaps. The hour came, the
attendants began to draw into order, and the minister, too,
put on his gravity, asking that the parties to be married
take their place, and Le Roy stepped forth to lead up Mrs.
S., who sat at the end of the long parlors. Full of pride was
he, suddenly to be humbled. As he approached her, I cast
a glance at puzzled Mrs. Stevens, tripped to a side window,
gave the appointed signal, and the door-bell rang with
great fury, as I had ordered. All the people present were
startled, and on the <i>qui vive</i> to know what such a call could
mean.

"A fire somewhere!" "Is this house on fire?" "O,
dear! What can it mean?" was ejaculated, etc., etc.

Meanwhile the servant had rushed and opened the door.

"Does Mr. ---- live here?" asked the officers.

"Yes."

"Is he in?"

"Yes."

"We wish to see him."
//411.png
.pn +1

"Take seats in this room," said the servant. "He'll be
down presently. There's a wedding going on up stairs."

"We can't wait--call him;" and the servant ran to call
him, and the officers pushing on after him, entered the
room. Le Roy was talking to his expected wife, and,
facing the door, I was there, and giving the officers the
secret hint, they exclaimed,--

"Our man, by Heavens! Mr. ---- (my cousin), whoever
you may be, you must pardon us; but Mr. Le Roy, here
is our prisoner. Sorry to break up a nice party; but, Le
Roy" (proceeding to collar him), "we've hunted you
out; been after you all day; a pretty man to be married;
better have arranged your funeral."

The ladies screamed, and said, "O, O!" Mrs. Stevens
sank back upon a sofa, half fainting at the joy of her delivery,
but not seeing yet how it was to be accomplished;
and Le Roy stormed at the "outrage." "Villains," said
he, "what's your charge?--rascals, come to extort money,
I suppose;" but his boastfulness subsided, as one of the
officers whispered quite shrilly in his ear, "Williams is
after you for the five hundred dollar forged check. We've
got you, and there's no escape."

The minister was the most confused man I ever saw--quite
lost his self-possession. I pointed the officers to a
room, whither they took Le Roy, whoso astonishment on
encountering Williams there cannot well be conceived.

"You villain!" exclaimed Williams. "How dared you
to abuse my kindness--you dog? You've no fool to play
with. I've caught you, and at last you shall suffer for your
crimes as you ought." A tap on a door, leading into an adjoining
room, and the cashier entered.

"Who's that man?" asked Williams of the cashier, pointing
to Le Roy.

"Mr. Le Roy, the man who presented this check. The
teller was out, and I occupied his place so early in the
morning."

"And I," said I, stepping up to Le Roy, and removing
//412.png
.pn +1
my slight disguise of full whiskers, revealing the side
whiskers I was accustomed to wear, "Do you know me?"
(He did at once recognize me). "What do you think now
of your <target id='tn412'>ability to 'attend to your own business,' as on that
day the stage upset in Litchfield?--Officers," said I, <target id='tn412a'>"take
away your man. He's good for five or ten years, if not
fifteen, at Sing Sing."

Le Roy turned pale--stammered out something, and
sat down--saw he was caught. I motioned the ladies
away from the door, and asked to be allowed to close it,
desiring the officers, too, and all but Williams, to go into
other rooms, and closed the doors. "Le Roy," said I, "I
am master here. I understand the whole matter of your
villany with that woman. You have only one means of
escape. Here's a writing I have prepared for you. I'll
read it." It was a simple statement that he recognized
his signature to the marriage certificate of Mr. and Mrs.
Stevens; that he saw the servant girl sign hers; that he
was called in as witness, being there visiting the girl; that
he not only saw her sign the document, but that he had
read many notes from her, and knew her handwriting, and
that this signature was hers; in short, a succinct statement
of all the facts I could get hold of in the matter of the
marriage. "Sir," said I, as I finished reading the document,
"tell me if that is all true." He tremblingly said,
"Yes." I opened the door, and asked the cashier to come
in, in his character as notary public; got pen and ink for Le
Roy, and asked him to put his signature to the statement.
It was a perfect fac-simile of that subscribed to the marriage
certificate. The notary, at my request, put him under
oath, Mr. Williams and I having left the room for the
time, so that the notary could properly state that he acknowledged
the signature to be made by him without fear,
and not under duress, etc. The notary gave us the signal
to return, and I went into the parlor, found Mrs. S., and said,
"It is done. He is caught. You are saved. The property
is yours."
//413.png
.pn +1

She did not faint away, as many a woman might, though
she trembled with joy.

"Let me take you before the wretch," I said. "I have
not done with him yet."

Mrs. S. took my arm, and accompanied me. Entering
the room, I closed the door behind me, only Williams and
the cashier being there, and proceeding to Le Roy, I said,
"Your victim is safe, you villain--and now we have
but one thing more for you to do. You must consent to
be handcuffed, and taken to private apartments by the
officers, and there kept till to-morrow, or you must go to
the tombs at once. The forgery is proved upon you, and
there is no escape but one; that is, go to the surrogate's
office to-morrow, and swear to your signature, as you have
done here. I have taken the precaution to put you on
your oath, and secure your signature for comparison at this
time. You see you are caught."

"I will, I will!" said Le Roy, trembling. He hated the
thought of imprisonment. He had suffered it once for
two years, and nearly died of the confinement. "But
there's one thing more yet. You must deliver to Mr. Williams,
or the cashier here, whichever you please, all the
money you have saved out of the five hundred."

"I will, I will!" said he, with alacrity; and drawing his
wallet, pulled forth a roll containing two hundred and
ninety-five dollars of it, which was given to the cashier,
who identified it, marked it, and put it in his pocket.

Le Roy was immediately given into the hands of the
officers, and taken to their apartments for the night. We
paid his coachman his charge, and sent him away.

There was rejoicing in that house that night, not over
nuptials consummated, but broken; and a happier being
never lived than seemed Mrs. Stevens. "Not only that
my child is safe," said she, "from penury and starvation,
but that I have escaped the presence of that loathsome
man."

The cashier went home. Mrs. Stevens, Williams, and I
//414.png
.pn +1
had a conference, in which she gladly agreed to pay Williams
for his loss of over two hundred dollars, or rather
that of the bank, for it was the bank's in fact; and we
dismissed her, Williams consenting that, though we had
promised Le Roy nothing, yet if he went forward and did
all he promised next day, faithfully, it would be no great
crime to not have him duly arrested and tried, considering,
too, the way in which he was caught. But after all,
though, he went forward, and did as he agreed, and ought
to have done, we made complaint, and lodged him in jail,
where he remained for some three months; when, no one
appearing before the grand jury against him, he was released,
not, however, till I had visited him, and given him
notice that he must leave New York forever, or we would
re-arrest him; and he fled, greatly to Mrs. Stevens's relief.

What became of Mrs. Stevens; how she became an inmate
of my house while the estate was being settled;
how happily she is now living, and many things which I
should delight to relate regarding all this matter, have no
particular relation to a detective's life and duties; and so
I end this, the really most interesting affair of my life, with
the simple prayer that, if there are in the wide world others
as horribly persecuted as was Mrs. Stevens, as happy
deliverance may come to them, as was that to her.
//415.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=markedbills
THE MARKED BILLS.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
A LITTLE KEY BEARING A MONOGRAM SHAPES THE DESTINY OF AN INTELLIGENT
MAN--HOW THIS MAN CAME TO BE INVOLVED IN THE MATTER
OF WHICH THIS TALE DISCOURSES--MY PARTNER AND I--FAR-OFF
MYSTERIES MAY SOLVE NEARER ONES--A CONSULTATION--A COMMITTEE
"SEEK LIGHT," AND FIND CONSOLATION--BURGLARIES AND
HIGHWAY ROBBERIES BY THE WHOLESALE--MY PARTNER LEAVES FOR
EUROPE--A TOWN IN OHIO INFESTED--A "DOCTOR HUDSON" APPEARS
IN THE TOWN--HE MAKES A PROFESSIONAL VISIT TO ONE MR. PERKINS--A
COLLOQUY; SEEKING LIGHT--A CALLOUS HAND, AND A CLEW TO
MYSTERIES--"DOCTOR HUDSON" EXTENDS HIS ACQUAINTANCESHIP--HE
MAKES A NIGHT'S VISIT OUT OF TOWN, AND GETS WAYLAID AND
ROBBED, BUT MANAGES TO CREATE THE FATAL EVIDENCE HE WANTS
OF THE ROBBERS' IDENTITY--A COUNCIL OF PRINCIPAL CITIZENS--"DOCTOR
HUDSON" MAKES A DISCLOSURE--A SCHEME LAID--A
"MILITARY INVESTMENT" OF A DOMESTIC FORTRESS; AN EXCITING
HOUR--BREAKING INTO A HOUSE AT MIDNIGHT AND SURPRISING A
SLEEPER--THE THIEF LEAVES TOWN TO GO TO CINCINNATI TO STUDY
MEDICINE WITH "DOCTOR HUDSON"--A SUICIDE--PURITANIC MERCILESSNESS--THE
MUSIC TEACHER'S INGENIOUS LETTER TO HIS LADY
LOVE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>It</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
It
.if-
is of an occurrence, which took place seven years ago
this very month in which I am writing this sketch, that I
propose to tell the tale--at midnight; having been unable
to sleep much of late, and having now risen from my bed,
taken my pen, and set myself at work, with the hope that
some continuous mental labor may bring on drowsiness by
and by; which, by the way, will not, I trust, affect or infect
my narrative.

Seven years ago, then, this month, my partner was called
on to go into his native town in the southern portion of
Ohio, to assist in ferreting out the perpetrators of sundry
highway robberies, burglaries, etc., that were constantly taking
place there, and whom it baffled the sagacity of the citizens
//416.png
.pn +1
of the place, and several constables, deputy sheriffs,
detectives from Cincinnati, and so forth, to detect. As a
<i>dernier resort</i>, the villagers had made up a purse, and appointed
a committee to proceed to New York, and wait
upon my partner, with the whole story of the countless
robberies, and see if he could not lay some plan which should
prove successful in the arrest of the villains.

My partner had left his native place in his sixteenth
year,--a more than usually bright boy,--had wandered
South, working out his own fortune by slow degrees;
studied law, and been admitted to practice at Washington,
Texas; tried practice for a year or so with some success,
but disliked the profession; went to Galveston; made
the acquaintance there of an iron-founder and machinist
by the name of Hunt, if I rightly recollect, who, taking a
liking to him, employed him in his office. My partner having
excellent mechanical ability, passed much of his time
in the work-rooms of the machine department, and became
quite a skilful operator. One day some persons of foreign
birth applied at the machine-shop,--as there was no other
place in Galveston where they could get the work done,--to
have some three or four keys made after certain patterns
which they provided. The work was done for them, and
in the course of time it came out that these keys had been
used in the commission of an extensive burglary at San
Antonio. One of the keys had been lost, and by chance
bore a peculiar mark--a sort of monogram, which Mr.
Hunt caused to be impressed, when proper, upon any work
which was issued from his establishment. The key being
new, and it being evident that the skilful burglars must
have had long acquaintance with the premises which they
invaded, a sheriff of San Antonio surmised that the keys
must have been made somewhere in Texas, perhaps to the
order of some old residents of that State. In fact, he had
his eye of suspicion upon some persons who had long borne
unenviable characters.--In what place were these made
more likely than in Galveston queried he? So he sent the
//417.png
.pn +1
key to a sheriff of Galveston for his inspection, and asked
him, if possible, to find out who made the key, and for what
description of person it was made. The sheriff of Galveston
instantly recognized Mr. Hunt's monogram. Taking down
a pair of handcuffs which hung upon a nail in his office,
said he to the messenger, "See here! These were made
in England, but I had occasion to get Hunt's establishment
to repair them a little, six months ago, and there, you see,
(pointing to the monogram), he put on his stamp."

It was only the matter of a walk of ten minutes to Hunt's
establishment, and as many minutes more spent in getting
a detailed account from the workmen and from my partner--Hunt's
then clerk--of the personal appearance of the
two men who ordered the keys, when the messenger became
convinced that the suspicions of the officers at San
Antonio had fallen upon the wrong persons; and he thought
he knew the real parties,--comparatively very respectable
people,--one a well-to-do and educated middle-aged planter,
living a little outside of San Antonio,--and so it proved.
The parties were arrested and tried. My partner was
called as a witness to identify them. The trifle of a lost
key, and the little monogram almost carelessly stamped on
it by the mechanic, having led to such results, touched the
romantic, speculative nature of my partner, and he was
never easy after that till, in the course of time, he had
found his way into the business at New Orleans, from
which city he finally came on to New York to reside.

Mr. Hunt kept up a correspondence with him for years,
always trying to get him back into his employ, making him
excellent offers, but he never returned to him, save on a
visit. Now it happened that Mr. Hunt was a native of the
same village, or its vicinity, in which my partner was born,
and on his summer visits there,--which he made nearly
every year,--he had often descanted upon the great talents
and ingenuity of my partner. Thus was it that the committee
came to wait upon him. But it was impossible for
him to go there with them, or visit the place for a long
//418.png
.pn +1
while, for he was to take steamer the day but one thereafter
for England, at the instance of Commodore Vanderbilt,
to aid in investigations into some transactions in which
it was believed that certain American scoundrels, whom my
partner knew, were involved.

We had been introduced to the committee as the partner
of the firm, and we had listened to a portion of the story,
when my partner announced the fact of his intended visit
to England, and added; "But, gentlemen, that need be no
loss to you, for my partner here can be of as much service
to you as I,"--being, in his kindness, pleased to add,--"and,
I think, probably more. If you please to accept
him in my place, I am sure you will suffer no loss. He
will track out the villains if anybody can."

The committee expressed their great regrets at not being
able to secure my partner's services, but said they would
tell us their story in full, and if, after hearing it, I thought
I could be of service to them, they would like to have me
go out there.

He listened to their recital of the numerous burglaries,
robberies from the person, and so forth, with great patience,
each of us asking a few, but a very <target id='tn418'>few questions, at
different points of their narrative. Long before they got to
the end of the doleful story, and after having asked not
over a half dozen questions at most, my partner, I clearly
saw from his manner, had formed his theory, and I saw that
he thought it an easy case to work up.

When the committee had finished, my partner said to
them, "Gentlemen, excuse us for a few minutes. I wish
to consult my partner," and rising, stepped into the next
room, whither I followed him, shutting the door behind me,
when my partner, clapping his hand with an air of victory
on my shoulder, whispered to me, "An easy case, old boy,
eh? I suppose you've worked up the theory by this time?
Don't you see straight through it?"

"No, I confess I don't see through it all; but I've got
some glimpses of light."
//419.png
.pn +1

"Well," said he, "I've told you about that San Antonio
case, which first started me into the detective business--haven't
I?"

"Yes; but I don't see the bearing of that on this exactly!"

"Don't see? Why there was only one peculiar feature
about that, and there's the like in this case, if I am not
mistaken; that is, these robberies are perpetrated, not by
old, skilful burglars, but by raw hands, comparatively, who
reside right about there, and are probably 'respectable
citizens'--teach Sunday-school, likely enough."

With this from my partner, which struck me then as the
true theory, we analyzed the stories of the committee in the
light of it, and became perfectly assured that the theory
was right, and were about proceeding to the next room to
talk further with the committee, when my partner said,
"See here, we mustn't tell these men our theory. Who
knows but some of them,--O, that can't be; they are too
old, too clumsy, not alert enough, and too honest too, for
that,--but some of their relations, their sons or nephews,
perhaps, are the villains who are doing all this work! No,
we mustn't tell them." So we hit upon what we would say.

Stepping into the room where the committee sat, looking
as sedate and sombre, by the way, as if they were
judges sitting upon some complex trial for arson, murder,
and what not, they looked up, and one of them asked,
"Well, gentlemen, what conclusion have you come to?"

My partner quietly replied, "We have worked out our
theory."

"Pray tell us what it is?" exclaimed one of the
committee, his face lighting up as if scales were falling
from his eyes, and he was to be suddenly extricated from
the "mystery of darkness."

"Well, gentlemen," he responded, "my partner and
I have satisfied ourselves that we are on the right
track. In our business, you must know, one case is often
suggestive in unraveling another. We get to be able to
//420.png
.pn +1
track old offenders, as the Indian tracks his enemy through
the forest. It would take me too long to explain the whole
mystery to you. But you may be sure that we've got hold
of some of the right 'ear marks' of these villains, and my
partner is not only willing to undertake the case, but I am
confident that he will work it out all right. This is all I
can say to you on that point. Shall he go ahead?"

"Certainly, certainly," responded the committee, one
after the other, "if <i>you</i> think it can be done; our neighbors
must have relief from these outrages."

"Well, one thing I wish to enjoin upon you, gentlemen.
In calling a public meeting, and appointing you as a committee
to come publicly to me, your citizens have taken
false steps. Your business ought to have been kept private--known
only to a few of you at most, and that in
positive secrecy. Now the first steps toward undoing this
false one, is for you to report, on your arrival home, that
you couldn't get me; that I was on the point of starting
for Europe; but that you told me your story, and I said it
was all the work of some old burglars, whom the police
had driven out from this quarter, and that there was probably
connected with them an old London burglar by the
name of 'Jerry Black,' or who bore that name once, and is
now supposed to be living in Cincinnati; that I said further
that 'twas a very hard case to work up, these old burglars
understanding their business so well, and that the best
way was for your citizens to defend their houses and
themselves as well as they can, and wait for some accident
to disclose the robbers, for 'murder will out' sooner or
later."

The committee replied that they would heed the advice
perfectly.

"Now, then, for the special injunction, which is this.
Talk as little in general about your visit here as you can,
each of you; but do you each be careful on this point,
namely, not to mention the fact that you met my partner,
or that I have one at all. Indeed, you can truthfully say
//421.png
.pn +1
that I have no partner, if anybody there should happen to
have heard that I have; for although we are partners in
the sense of companions, and coöperators sometimes, yet
we are not 'partners' in the legal sense of that term,
though we call each other so, in the style of the profession.
Remember this!"

The committee promised to do so, and we went on talking
together, laying our plans to the extent that I should
duly visit the place; that none of the committee was to
recognize me if he met me in his walks; and that I should
probably appear there as a Cincinnati merchant; for the
detectives of the best repute in Cincinnati had already
visited the place unavailingly, and it would not be suspected
that poorer ones would be employed from Cincinnati.
I made inquiries of the committee about the various businesses
transacted in the place, and asked the names of the
other leading citizens, for the committee were all of them
of the "heavy men" of the place. Learning all I thought
of use of these gentlemen, I promised to appear, if my life
was spared, in due time, and not at a late day at that, in
the town and go to work; and the committee left.

It was a useless promise which we exacted of the committee
that none of them should recognize me when in
their village; for when they came to the office I had but
a little while before returned from an expedition, in which
I had worn a simple but effectual disguise. That removed,
and my coat exchanged for another one in my closet, a few
minutes after the committee left, they would not have recognized
me had they returned at the time.

Duly after the departure of my partner for Europe I
was on my way to Ohio. Before he left we had talked up
the matter in all the possible phases it could present, and
among the last things he said to me, on our way down to
the steamer, was, "That case <i>may</i> bother you; but it
seems to me now as easy as going down hill. We have
the sight of it, and if the committee report as I instructed
them, you'll succeed at once. In your first letter to
//422.png
.pn +1
me" (which, by the way, it was agreed should be sent by
the next week's steamer) "I shall not be surprised to learn
of 'victory won.'"

"O, no, impossible; you forget the distance."

"Yes, truly I did. Say, then, by the next letter," for
he expected to be gone for some three or four months, if
not longer.

"But," said he, "don't let anything deflect you from our
theory, whether you succeed in that time or not. It <i>will</i>
work out on our theory some way, at some time."

I bade my partner good by, as the ocean steamer started
on her proud course out into the bay, and returned to my
office, to perfect my plans in detail for the work before me,
and was, as I said before, duly on my way to Ohio. My
first point was Cincinnati, where, arriving safely, I set myself
about becoming acquainted with names of streets, then
localities, public places, names of many citizens and their
business--in short, I "booked" myself up in regard to
Cincinnati, in order to be "at home" whenever talking
with the citizens of the village to which I was going, and
who would soon be told that I was from Cincinnati.

Leaving the latter place, I made my way to the village
in question, arriving there towards evening, on a lumbering
stage-coach, through--literally, not "over"--the deep
clay-mudded roads, and alighted at the principal hotel of
the place. The night before, or rather on the morning of
the same day, for it was between the hours of one and two
A. M., a citizen of considerable standing had been robbed
on his way home from a house a little out of the village,
where he had been to watch with a sick friend, a farmer.
Being relieved from watching about one o'clock, and his
wife wishing to take the early stage which left at the inhospitable
hour of six, on the road towards Columbus, whither
she was going, he thought to return. For a week or two
the robbers had ceased from their theretofore almost nightly
outrages, and it was with a sort of smile of contempt
that Mr. Hiram Perkins,--for that was the citizen's name,
//423.png
.pn +1
replied to an old lady nurse, as he was departing, and who
asked, "Ain't you afraid of the robbers, Mr. Perkins?"
"O, no, 'aunty' they won't touch me; besides, I guess
they are all dead now, 'aunty.' We haven't heard 'em
peep for a week or two--gone off to some better land."

But he encountered them, nevertheless, and lost four
hundred dollars, and something over, which had been paid
to him the evening before, at a time too late to make deposit
of it in the little village bank, and which he had been
foolish enough to not leave at home.

This amount of money was the largest which the robbers
had yet secured. They had effected the robbery, to
be sure, of some negotiable bonds of considerably greater
value; but this was an extreme case, and was, of course, at
the time of my arrival there the chief topic of excitement.
Added to the robbery, was the fact that Mr. Perkins, who
had made stout resistance, had been severely beaten, and
though not fatally bruised, was lying quite feverish in
bed: such was the report.

I had had a room put in order for me, neglecting to put
my name on the dirty little register of the hotel, where I
observed that everybody who could write, and who stepped
in to the "tavern," was in the habit of writing his name,
and putting after it "City" (that was the town where I
was),--a custom, probably, introduced by some joker, who
had been to Cincinnati, and seen names registered in that
way there.

But when I came down from my room into the "office,"
or "bar-room," properly speaking, the young clerk said to
me, "Would the stranger enter his name?" I had reflected,
meanwhile, that I must see this Mr. Perkins, and
had changed my original plan of proceedings a little, so I
entered my name as "Dr. H. H. Hudson, Cin.," with a somewhat
bold dash of the pen, and soon after found myself on
the street, seeking the way to Mr. Perkins's house. While
in the hotel I encountered, and had quite a long talk with
one of the committee who had visited us in New York.
//424.png
.pn +1
He kept his promise, and did not "recognize" me, and
perhaps he would not if he had known me. He told me
the whole story of his visit to New York; what the detective
said to him, and the rest of the committee; and, said
he, "He was right when he said they were old burglars
who were committing these outrages, for nobody but men
hardened in crime could have robbed Mr. Perkins, as they
did last night;" and when I went out of the tavern, after
registering my name, to seek Mr. P.'s house, I encountered
my committee-man. Again, as I was loitering on the street,
hardly knowing what to do to learn the way to Mr. Perkins's,
he had evidently looked on the register after my
departure from the office or bar-room, for he accosted me.

"Ah, again! Happy to come across you again. Dr.
Hudson, of Cincinnati, I hear?"

"Yes, sir," I replied; "a doctor by profession, but retired
somewhat from practice."

"Yes, yes; yours is a pretty hard life, that of a doctor,
sir. I suppose all you doctors in the city retire as soon
as you get rich," said the facetious committee-man.

I replied, "that I had not retired from business exactly,
for I was engaged more or less in speculation; but had
always pursued the course of registering myself as a doctor
at hotels, for I found that I generally got better treatment
than when I registered in my plain name."

"Well, sir," said he, "I was thinking of going to call at
friend Perkins's, and see how he's getting along. He's
pretty low, I fear. As you are a doctor, perhaps you would
like to accompany me. You might suggest something for
his comfort."

I accepted the invitation with a half-reluctant manner,
and we walked on towards Mr. Perkins's house, my friend,
meanwhile, telling me all about Mr. P., his wealth, family
affairs, etc. We were bidden to enter the house on knocking,
and the committee-man was invited into the "bedroom"
to see Mr. Perkins, from which he came soon out,
and said,--
//425.png
.pn +1

"I dare say you'd like to see Mr. Perkins. He is pretty
severely bruised; but says he's better, and shall be out in
a day or two. I told him I had a friend along with me,
Dr. Hudson, of Cincinnati; and he says he don't need a
doctor, but that he shall be glad to see you as a gentleman,
and friend of mine." So I accompanied my friend
to Mr. Perkins's room; and had hardly been presented to
him before I made up my mind to take him into my counsels,
for there was a certain frank nobility in his countenance,
and an intelligence which quite won my esteem on
the instant.

We conversed about the robbery, and, after that, about
various topics of the day; and the more we talked, the
more I liked him. By and by the committee-man recollected
an engagement; said that he must go, but didn't
want to interrupt Mr. Perkins's and my conversation; "for,
doctor, I perceive," said he, "that you've made him very
cheerful, without pills even. Sometimes I think there's
more in a doctor than in his medicines," said he, with a
very arch smile.

"O, no," said Mr. Perkins; "if you must go, you needn't
take the doctor. He's a stranger here, and 'tisn't late yet,
and he can find his way back easily enough."

And so I staid after the committee-man went out; and I
talked with Mr. Perkins more about the robbery, and the
burglaries, etc.; but I could get no occasion for private
conversation with him, as the bed-room door, opening into
a "sitting-room," was constantly open, and the sitting-room
generally occupied by one or more persons, females, or
else they were flitting back and forth; so at last I told Mr.
Perkins that I had come to him on some business in regard
to which I should like to consult him in the morning a
little while, if he were well enough. He very kindly consented,
and I departed.

On returning to the hotel, I was accosted at once by a
gentleman, around whom stood a dozen other eager ones.
//426.png
.pn +1
"Doctor, you've been over to see Mr. Perkins, we hear;
how's he getting along? Recover soon?"

"O, yes," said I; "he'll recover speedily if he is left
quiet for a day or two. The neighbors, I hear, are running
in to see him a great deal; but I think I shall order
that nobody be admitted for a day or two."

Fortunately, Mr. Perkins's family physician had at this
time gone to the funeral of his mother, whose home had
been somewhere in Pennsylvania, and Mr. Perkins would
not call either of the two other "doctors" of the place,
styling them "blasted quacks." So that I could very
properly say that.

I listened quite late that night to the villagers' talk
about the robberies. Every new man who came into the bar-room
had something to tell, and everybody had a theory;
but they all declared that the burglars were old heads at
the business--hard to catch, "as that New York detective
told the committee," they said. Things were working
well, and I finally retired to rest, and slept very soundly,
to my surprise; for strange beds generally vex me,
and keep me awake.

The next morning I called on Mr. Perkins early, and
found him quite comfortable; asked him to order that
neighbors who might be coming in to inquire for the
state of his health, should not be allowed to enter his
room; and though surprised at first at my request, he
granted it, and I felt secure of a good, uninterrupted talk
with him. I sounded him, to my satisfaction, in that he
was a man who could keep a secret profoundly, and then
made known my business to him. He was glad I had come,
he said, and he would give me all the information in his
power.

I inquired of everybody and everything in the place
which could have any bearing on the matter in hand;
learned the size, tones of voice, style of language, as far
as he could remember, of his assailants, the highway robbers;
gathered from him all I could of what had been
//427.png
.pn +1
overheard from the robbers' lips on various occasions;
and I learned one especially important matter of him,
which was, that one of the robbers was dressed in "a loose
sack, like," and that in his contest with him, he thought
that he felt that one of his hands, off from which a glove
became slipped in the fight, was callous on the back. This
he had not laid up in memory, but my questions called it
to mind. At this point I developed my theory that the
robberies were committed by residents of the village; and
told him that they were not what professional robbers
would call "good work," skilfully done; and then I asked
him,--

"Now, Mr. Perkins, do you know any man in or about
this place who has a scarred, hard hand, such as you describe?"

"Yes; but I would not dare mention his name in this
connection, for he is an innocent, elegant young gentleman,
very mild in his manners; came here a few months
ago with the best recommendations from a clerical friend,
an old schoolmate of mine, in Massachusetts, and bore a
letter to me from him. O, I won't allow myself to name
him; it would be too bad," said he.

"But," said I, "the greatest scoundrels steal the livery
of heaven to serve the devil in, you know; and I am here
to work, and you want the full truth to come out, hit
where it may--don't you?"

"Yes; but it can't be this young man: and yet the villain
was about his size."

"And wore a 'sack, like,' you say. Do you know if
this young man has any such garment?"

"O, no, it was quite like a hostler's work coat. He
hasn't anything of the sort."

"Well--no matter: please give me his name, and tell
me all about him. What is he doing here?"

"Teaching music, principally; teaches most anything--the
languages, especially French; says he has lived in
France a while; but 'tain't he--and--if 'twas, I don't
//428.png
.pn +1
know but I should forgive him, if I knew it, as far as I am
concerned, and let him go, or send him off; for he's engaged
to a beautiful niece of mine, and first made her
acquaintance here at my house. They had but just left
when you called last night, and were full of sympathy for
me. He is very active in devising plans to catch the villains,
and has been out frequently with others, keeping
night watch."

"Were there any robberies on the nights of such watching?"
I asked.

"No; but I never suspected there would be, when so
many were watching."

"Yet," said I, "from what I learn, the robberies have
been very bold at times--early in the evening, when people
were abroad."

"True," he replied. "I didn't think of that before. I
wish I could have got at the scoundrels' faces that night;
but their caps were securely tied on, and their faces
blackened."

"They were white men, you are sure, then?"

"Yes; no doubt of that."

Finally, I persuaded Mr. Perkins to give me the man's
name, as he knew, of course, I could now find it out by inquiring
of somebody else, if I thought prudent to inquire.

We talked over the matter still further: and Mr. Perkins
agreed to keep to his bed for two or three days. I
was to reconnoitre, and report to him what I found out,
and we were to consult together, and I left. I avoided
making the <target id='tn428'>acquaintance of the young man in question,
although I had twenty occasions for so doing for a day or
two; but on the night of the third day after my arrival
another burglary took place, of considerable amount, and
there was evidence, too, of an attempt at arson. In listening
to the investigation of the burglary, I thought I saw
that the young music teacher was as likely as anybody to
have had a hand in it; and was confirmed in my suspicions
//429.png
.pn +1
by his manner, when I heard him talk it over next day
with some friends at the hotel.

I managed to get near him, and spoke of the robberies
as the most daring outrages, and suggested that there must
be a gang of villains--old offenders--secreted near the
village somewhere, or else they must, if coming from
abroad, perform herculean feats of riding. But he told me
he thought my theory was a mistake, as no strange horses or
teams had ever been discovered in or near the village on
the occasions of robbery; and entered very intelligently into
the question, declaring at last that the villains must be
caught if he himself were obliged, with others, to lie in wait
for a year. There was something a little bombastic in his
style as he said this, which confirmed my suspicions of him
more and more. He told me he had heard of my attendance
upon Mr. Perkins; was glad he had such skilful
care, and that he seemed improving; and as he resorted
there much himself, had hoped to meet me there, but had not
happened to; was glad to have made my acquaintance, etc.;
all of which was uttered with a very innocent, and indeed
pleasant air, yet I suspected him, somehow, only the more.

Mr. Perkins kept apparently ill, and I visited him regularly.
Two nights after my interview with the music
teacher, as related above, I was going home from Mr. Perkins's
to the hotel. (I should mention that the teacher,
whose name in the village was Henry Downs,--but not his
true name,--had called at Mr. Perkins's, and left a quarter
of an hour before.) Going to the hotel, as I have said, I
passed two men standing beside a large tree on the line of
the sidewalk. The evening was very dark, and I only saw
them when within six feet of them, perhaps, and I heard
one of them say, "Ah, ha! the old fool is unsuspicious;
we'll get another chance near home. A good night to-night,
eh?" The voice was unmistakably that of the
teacher, and I inferred that he alluded to Mr. Perkins.
"Hush," I heard the other man say, as I approached in
passing them; and I saw that the other man had on a
//430.png
.pn +1
"sack-like," such as Mr. Perkins had described. Of course
I was now fully confirmed in my suspicions, and devised
various plans to trap the villains, but nothing I could think
of seemed likely to me or Mr. Perkins to prove practical.
At last we hit upon this as a first step. I was to get ill
enough to keep my room as Mr. Perkins got well. He was
to visit me in turn, and was to consult the committee, who
were greatly vexed all the while among themselves (as it
appeared afterwards) that that 'rascally New York detective
did not come on.' Mr. Perkins was to report me as
a man of much wealth, with quite a sum of money, which
I had brought intending to speculate, but having looked
around, and not being satisfied with any real estate for sale
there, was going away as soon as I recovered. This was
noised about, and a week or so passed before I got up and
was ready to go. Mr. Perkins, in the mean while, had come
to my opinion that the music teacher was indeed the villain,
and believing it his duty to expose him rather than
shield him on his niece's account, entered quite spiritedly
into my plans.

The music teacher was more attentive to me than ever
when I met him, after it was said that I was rich; and at a
little party which Mr. Perkins gave me the night before I was
to leave, the teacher was all attention to me. It was given
out that I should leave the next night, on the way north of
the village, to call on a relative living about twenty miles
from that village. I must be there, it was said, that night,
to meet my friend from whom I had had a letter, and who
would leave by the stage the next morning after; and for
the next day Mr. Perkins and I had a ride of twenty miles
and back to take in another direction to look at some mills
in which he was persuading me to take an interest. Mr.
Perkins was to loan me his horse for the night trip.

The ladies present said, some of them, that they hoped
Dr. Hudson would not think of going in the night.
"Just think of the robbers." I replied that robbers never
touched doctors; that doctors never had any money about
//431.png
.pn +1
them; that they would not take my pills, I presumed, if
I were to prescribe them regularly; and so we joked over
the matter.

The next day Mr. Perkins and I, having ridden out of
town, returned after dark, and after a good supper at his
house, I paid my bills at the hotel, took his horse and sallied
forth on my "night visit." I had not ridden over three
miles, and was passing along a dark avenue lined with trees,
when suddenly two men appeared before me, each grasping
at a rein, and one presenting a pistol as near my head
as he could reach, exclaimed, in a husky voice,--

"No noise, you old villain! Dismount!"

"Stop, stop!" said I, in a low voice. "Have mercy!
What do you want of me?"

"Nothing of <i>you</i>--but your money," answered the
husky voice. "Get off your horse quick, or I'll blow your
brains out."

"I will, I will!" I whispered, with a voice that intimated
trepidation, "but my leg is a little lame. Give me your
hand to help," and extended my left hand, which he took in
his left, still holding the pistol in his right. He had to
extend his left hand quite high to help me, and I could not
only feel, but see the scarred, hard hand--the same which
Mr. Perkins had felt, and a like of which deformed the
otherwise handsome music teacher. Of course his face, as
well as his comrade's in crime, was muffled.

Having dismounted, they insisted on my giving them all
my money. I consented without resistance, and pulled
out my wallet, and handed him fifteen dollars--a ten dollar
and a five dollar bill.

"Give us the rest," said the husky voice.

"Gentlemen," I said, "I have no more."

"It is a lie, doctor," said the husky voice. "We know
all about you--we've watched you, and know that you
brought hundreds of dollars to the village below."

"I did," I said; "that is true enough; but my patient,
Mr. Perkins, and I took a ride to his mills to-day, and when
//432.png
.pn +1
//433.png
.pn +1
//434.png
.pn +1
there I invested what I had, all but enough to pay my bills
about here and get back again."

.pm illo i_432 i_432.jpg 700px "DR. HUDSON'S STRATAGEM WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN."

"But we must search you."

I said "Very well," and they did search me most thoroughly,
and took my bull's-eye silver watch (not very valuable
in itself, but the gift of an old brother detective, who had
since died. Said he, as he gave it to me, "Don't let anybody
rob you of that," with a laugh; and I thought how funny
it would seem to him, were he alive, to find <i>me</i> parting
with it under <i>such</i> circumstances).

The robbers let me go, saying they had no use for the
horse, and bade me have more money about me next time.
Said they'd been called pretty severe and cruel on certain
occasions, but that they were gentle enough with folks that
didn't make foolish resistance, etc. Indeed, they tried to
be jocular with me; and I submitted to their course, and
joined in it, as the best way. They bade me a hearty good
night, but enjoined me not to stop anywhere and mention
my loss till to-morrow, or they'd find some way to dispose
of me if I did, with like threats; and then darted off into
the side fields, bidding me to "go ahead," however; and
I rode on for some three miles, but fortunately, when riding
with Mr. Perkins that day, I had noticed a cross road, which
would lead into the road on which he and I had come out
of and returned into the town. I was meditating, at the
time I came upon it, what to do. Should I ride back furiously
over the road on which I was robbed, the villains
might waylay me again, for, perhaps, they were not far
off--may be were watching. Perhaps they might fire upon
me; but luckily here was the cross road, and I darted down
it, and found my way back into the village by the old road,
and you may be sure that my horse, if horses have
memories, did not soon forget that night's race, for I put
him to the top of his speed. I alighted at the barn of Mr.
Perkins, and fortunately found there his "hired man," who
clapped the horse into the stable at once, and I then felt
secure. Getting access at once to Mr. Perkins, I narrated
//435.png
.pn +1
my adventure. He was not astounded at what I had
learned, for he had for some time believed, as I, that the
music teacher was the man, but he was confounded that
the villains let me off so easily.

The next thing was to catch the scamps, and make the
evidence against them sure; and Mr. Perkins, at my suggestion,
sent his man out to call four of the most trusty
citizens, two of whom chanced to be of the original committee
who waited upon my partner and me in New
York, to come to his house at once. To them, when they
came, was intrusted his plan. "Dr. Hudson" was now announced
as the partner-detective whom they had seen in
New York. He, too, had been robbed, and he knew who
were the robbers--or one of them! Greater astonishment
than these gentlemen evinced at this disclosure could
not well be expressed. But we did not speak to them of
the music teacher. They were to remain at Mr. Perkins's
till we should call them. Making some change in my dress
by aid of articles borrowed of Mr. Perkins, and of my
countenance by assuming a pair of false whiskers which I
had brought with me, besides a hat very unlike what I had
been wearing in the village, and Mr. Perkins disguising
himself, we went forth, and placed ourselves where we
could readily perceive any comer to the house at which
the music teacher boarded. Patiently we watched. Two
hours or more went by, when a man came from the
opposite course by which we expected him, and, proceeding
to the door of the house, evidently lightly tried it--could
not get in; went around the corner of the house,
noiselessly raised a side window, and as noiselessly mounted
in. I was not over thirty feet from him as he entered,
and notwithstanding the darkness, I felt sure I knew him,
though he did not wear the sack. Mr. Perkins had seen
his stealthy entry, too, from another point, and in a few
minutes we came together, I having meanwhile slid
up by the side of the house next to the window, and heard
the in-comer open or close a window above. He had
//436.png
.pn +1
already gone to his room, which Mr. Perkins had told me
was at the back of the house. He knew the way to it--had
called on the young man there.

We proceeded at once to Mr. Perkins's, instructed our
waiting friends what to do,--for we might need aids,--and
asked them to follow. No man was to speak a word,
but do as he was bidden.

My dark lantern was lit and deposited under my cloak,
and we went out, along down the street, across another,--down
another a little way, and I saw that the citizens
were occasionally looking wonder into each other's eyes,
as much as to say, Where are we going? We arrived at
the house, entered the yard. Mr. Perkins, by our arrangements,
was to take and post two of the men under the
villain's window, to catch him in case he should try to
escape, to one of whom he gave a pistol, saying, "Catch
any man who tries to escape out of this house. Shoot him,
if necessary."

Up to this point not a word had been said to them of the
music teacher. We had thought best to not knock for
admission, of course; and I got in at the window where the
villain had entered, proceeded to the little hall, unlocked
silently the front door, and let in Mr. P. and the two other
men. "Follow me softly," whispered Mr. P., and he led
to the villain's room.

An hour had passed since we saw him come in, and we
concluded he'd be asleep, as he was. We carefully tried
the door: it was locked by a button. Mr. Perkins whispered
to me, "Shall we rap, and catch him when he rises?"

"No, no," I answered quickly; and with a dash against
the door with my shoulders, easily effected entrance.
The villain started wildly. I threw the dazzling light of
my dark lantern into his face, and rushed upon him in bed,
clutched his throat, and cried, "Seize his clothes, and
everything in the room! This is the man. Open the window,
and call in the others to the show;" and Mr. Perkins
did so.
//437.png
.pn +1

In an instant the two men had found their way up to the
room; and, in fact, the whole household was by this time
aroused. We made speedy work of searching the wretch's
clothes, and among other money found the five dollar bill
taken from me. Without explanation, I passed it to Mr.
Perkins, who recognized a peculiar mark we had made
upon it, its date, etc. But the ten dollar bill was found in
the villain's trunk, together with quite a sum of money.
Mr. Perkins recognized the marks we had placed upon
that: the watch was not to be found.

The teacher was a lithe, muscular fellow, and would
have given me, alone, much trouble to hold him; but he
was overwhelmed, and did little else but groan. We at
once told him of the marked bills, etc., and pointed out to
him that his best course now was to expose his accomplice
or accomplices; that the bitterest curses of the law
would fall upon him if he did not.

The pale, trembling fellow, a real coward at heart, as
many such villains are, made his confession on the spot,
notes of which were taken down by me, and by one of the
committe-men in his diary. He told us that his accomplice
was----, a son of a pretty well-to-do farmer, whose
name I cannot mention, and whose relations still reside in
the village--most estimable people, which is the reason
why I have carefully avoided mentioning the name of the
place.

When he named his accomplice, one of the committee-men
groaned audibly (I should say that we had kept
the inmates of the house out of the room during this confession),
for the accomplice, it appears, was that committee-man's
nephew!--a much-esteemed, industrious young man,
led away by the brilliancy, dash, and superior education of
the music teacher.

But where was the watch? The teacher told us. Under
a barn belonging to his accomplice's father, and not
ten rods from his residence, was a place of deposit for such
things as they could not readily dispose of. Indeed, they
//438.png
.pn +1
had disposed of but little: there he thought we could find
it, and there, next morning, we did.

But here was a complication. The nephew must be
saved if possible, and Mr. Perkins could not bear the exposure
which would involve his niece in disgrace, and we
were nonplussed what to do.

We arranged, finally, that since the inmates of the house
did not <i>know</i> for certainty that this teacher was the villain,
that we would let it go abroad that we had all been out,
together with the teacher, watching the villains; that the
teacher had suffered a severe fall when getting over a
high fence, and that we had come home with him--all this
upon the condition that the avails of all his robberies
should be restored to the rightful parties, and that he
should allow Mr. Perkins to go and draw, on his order, all
his money in a certain bank in Cincinnati, where he said
he had at the time twenty-eight hundred dollars, which we
found to be true; and that he should in the end accompany
me to Pittsburg, Pa., which he declared to be the theatre
of his first essays in crime, and where he said he was
willing to deliver himself up to the authorities for old
offences; for he was as penitent a man, in appearance,
as I ever saw, and said he would rather go to State's
Prison for life, than be longer pursued by terrible temptations
to crime.

One of our party was left with him that night, armed,
and bidden to shoot him if he attempted to escape; and
the rest went forth. We found the place of deposit under
the barn, removed everything therefrom to a safe place,
and next morning Mr. Perkins called on the young farmer,
took him out to the barn, and showed him my bull's-eye
watch.

"Did you ever see that, sir."

"No," said the young man.

"No lies sir," said Mr. P----; "we are going to do you
no harm. The villain" (the music teacher) "has told us
all about it. We have removed the things from down
//439.png
.pn +1
there" (pointing to the place of deposit), "and you are
caught, beyond hope of escape."

The young man turned pale, fell over upon Mr. Perkins's
breast, and groaned out, "O God, that villain, as you call
him, has ruined me! I could not resist him; he dragged
me along against my will. I have suffered tortures of conscience.
I cannot resist him! O, spare me!"

"Yes, yes," said P----, affected to tears by the young
man's sufferings, "I believe you. You have been under
a spell. We will see what can be done for you. As for
myself, I forgive you."

That day there was a private conference of the discovering
parties at Mr. Perkins's house. The whole matter
was discussed, and it was concluded that the villain should
suffer his just punishment in Pennsylvania rather than in
Ohio; that he should leave with "Dr. Hudson," and be no
more heard of there; that the young farmer should be
allowed to repent; and that so many of his relations, the
committee-man with the rest, should not be put to the disgrace
of his public punishment. He was sent for, and came;
and a more harrowing case of an accusing conscience than
was his, imagination, in its wildest flights, could hardly
depict. I felt for him to the bottom of my soul. The
teacher, who was so watched that he could by no means
escape, was sent for too, and when he came, the poor young
farmer looked at him with bewildering horror. The whole
matter was discussed before him, his order duly made on
the bank, and Mr. Perkins departed next day to draw the
money. Meanwhile it was arranged that the other property
should all be brought and deposited in Mr. Perkins's
barn at night, with a note accompanying it, that the robbers,
having no use for it, wished it distributed to those
to whom it belonged; which, becoming known to the villagers,
there was a throng for hours at the barn next day,
--one recognizing and claiming this silver spoon,--some
old watch--this watch chain--that silver snuff-box (with
the snuff and the veritable "bean" in it), as the owner
//440.png
.pn +1
said, and so on and so on, together with a few valuable
books, all small articles, and many of them ladies' ornaments.
How they came to the barn, is, I suppose, a mystery
still to the villagers.

Mr. Perkins returned with the money, was paid back all
that had been robbed from him, and the teacher insisted
that he should take a hundred dollars more. The teacher
paid his bills in town, being all the time closely watched
by some two of us, and the residue of the money was put
into my hands. A strict oath of eternal secrecy was taken
by Perkins and the other four gentlemen, on account of the
penitent young farmer. (I wish I dare to tell what has
become of him, but it might lead to his identification.
Suffice it that he was, when I last heard about him, only
a year and a half ago, regarded as the finest and best
young man anywhere to be found. He had married a
niece of Mr. Perkins, by the way. And here, perhaps, I
ought to say that "Perkins" is not the proper name of my
friend, but one I have used for convenience; for it would
be a wretched thing to do to give any clew to the young
farmer's identification.)

Finally, all being settled, the music teacher consenting
to the suggestion of the committee that I should be paid
out of his funds one thousand dollars, then and there, and
I keeping the rest of his money, we bade our friends good
by, and started on our way to Pittsburg. I had no trouble
with the teacher on my way to Cincinnati (it was given
out, by the by, that he was going to study medicine with
"Dr. Hudson"); but when we arrived in Cincinnati I took
him aside, told him he was my prisoner, and that I would
give him a disguise, so that he need not be subject to
shame in case we encountered, on our way, anybody he
might know; but that he must submit to be manacled in
travelling with me farther, for I feared he would escape.
He consented to this.

I started with him from Cincinnati to Pittsburg, and
arriving there, placed him in charge of parties at the
//441.png
.pn +1
hotel where I stopped. He wanted to write some letters,
he said, and I let him do so. One of them was to the lady
he had left behind, Mr. Perkins's niece. The letters could
not go till the morning's mail, and I could not, of course, let
those to others than the young lady go without reading
them myself, for they might mean mischief. Intending to
take proper legal proceedings the next day, I had him
placed in a small room leading out from my sleeping-room,
and without a door except that into my room, and with no
avenue for light, save a small window at the top, divested
him of his clothes, which I put back of my bed, and caused
my door to be guarded outside all night. I suppose I slept
with unusual soundness, for I heard not the slightest noise
from his room. On awaking in the morning I called to him.
There was no answer; and I jumped out of bed, and went
into his room, only to find him hanging, cold and dead,
from a clothes peg in the side of the wall in the room! He
had somehow managed to strip a piece from a sheet without
awakening me, rolled it into a small rope, and hung
himself by this peg. He proved himself a young man of
spirit in his last act; for his legs were bent up to keep his
feet from the floor--the rope being too long, or having
stretched evidently.

Such was the end of the music teacher; and not the
least interesting fact touching him was, that he was from
one of the first New England families, well educated, expelled
college in his second year for some "romantic conduct"
which bordered on crime, and was shunned by his high-toned
Puritanic relations,--mercilessly treated, in short,--and
to this fact, I conceive, may be attributed his downfall
in part. Mercy and forgiveness, bestowed at the proper
time, are among the best preventives of a course of crime
once entered upon.

The music teacher's letters were never sent to their
intended destinations. That to the young lady was very
kindly, telling her that his love for her was an infatuation,
from which he had broken away; that they were not suited
//442.png
.pn +1
to live together after all; that she would probably never
hear from him again, for years at least (!), and that he
hoped her every joy. I did not think it best to forward
it to her. She married, in a year or two after his "desertion,"
to a fine man, so "Mr. Perkins," when I last saw him,
told me, and was very happy, and still in blissful ignorance
of the fate of the "heartless" but brilliant music teacher,
and finally brave (?) suicide.
//443.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=coolblooded
THE COOL-BLOODED GOLD ROBBER, AND THE WAY HE WAS TRACKED.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
A SUDDEN CALL--GREAT CONSTERNATION AT THE ---- BANK IN WALL
STREET--TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN GOLD STOLEN--A HARD, INSOLUBLE
CASE--"TRY," THE SOUL OF SUCCESS--BANKS COMPELLED TO
GREATEST CAUTIOUSNESS--NO ESPRIT DE CORPS AMONG MONEY-CHANGERS--THE
WAY I "CREATED" DETECTIVES--RAG-PICKERS MADE USEFUL
ABOVE THEIR CALLING--AN UP-TOWN CARRIAGE HOUSE, AND ITS
TREASURES--A LAUGHING COACHMAN--A PRESENT--COMPLICATED
EVIDENCE UNRAVELLED--AN OLD OFFICE-WOMAN INVOLVED IN THE
MYSTERY--A BIT OF FUN FURNISHES THE DESIRED "KEY"--"SMOUCHING,"
AND WHAT CAME OF IT--EXTENDING MY ACQUAINTANCESHIP--THE
THIEF FOUND--A WALL STREET BROKER--STUDYING HIM--HIS
CLERK WILED AWAY--GOOD USE OF THEATRE TICKETS--THE SCHEME
OF IDENTIFICATION; A PLOT WITHIN A PLOT--THE BROKER WORSTED--HE
STRUGGLES WITHIN HIMSELF; GROWS PALE--HOW HE EXECUTED
THE ROBBERY--THE TERRIBLE "FORCE OF EXAMPLE" SOMETIMES--THE
THIEF BECOMES A MEMBER OF THE COMMON COUNCIL--A SALUTARY
WARNING TO OTHER THIEVES.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>"Sir,"</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
"Sir,
.if-
can you come right down at once to the ----
Bank?" (It was and is in Wall Street.) "Mr. ---- (the president)
wants to see you if possible," exclaimed a messenger,
one day, less than ten years ago, as he bolted into my office
in great haste; and this was the opening to me of a case
in which I did, perhaps, more hard work than I ever performed
in working out any other case.

"No, I can't go now; don't think I can get there to-day.
I've too much to do; but what's the trouble?"

"O, dear, I can't tell you that. I only, know that Mr.
----, the president, is greatly excited, and he told me to
be sure to bring you now; to hunt after you if you were
not here, and bring you at any rate."
//444.png
.pn +1

"Well, if it is so urgent a matter, I must run down there
for a minute--say that I'll be there in a half hour, if possible;
if not, in an hour, say. I've documents here that
<i>must</i> be finished and sent off before I stir," said I; and an
hour or so brought me to the bank, between four and five
o'clock of the afternoon. It was closed, of course, for
banking purposes, but the watching janitor hardly waited
for ordinary ceremony before I was half-dragged into the
entrance-way. The president at once took me to the private
or directors' room, and told me that a half hour before
sending for me they had missed a bag containing ten
thousand dollars in gold, that every search had been made
for it, and that one of the clerks thought he recollected
something having been said by somebody that day about
that bag. He even thought somebody had taken it up or
out in his presence, but his impression was like a dim recollection
of things passed twenty years ago, and this was
all the president could say about it. The making up of
the books, balancing accounts, etc., had kept the clerks
after banking hours, as usual, and he had sent for me as
soon as possible, thinking that I might devise some theory
to account for the lost gold, and that promptness was the
best course.

I asked if there had been much business done there
that day, and I found that they had been unusually occupied.
I learned the location of the bag in the big safe,
and saw that no thief could have come slyly in and got to
the safe without being detected, so numerous were the
clerks, some of whom were constantly behind the desks,
back of which the thief would have to go. There was no
clerk whom the president dare suspect. They were all
well tried young men, in whom every confidence had heretofore
been reposed, and who had ever proved worthy of
the trust placed in them. Besides, none of them, except
at noon, when they had gone out to lunch, not singly, but
two together at least, had been out of the bank since morning,
and it was sure that the bag was in the safe that
//445.png
.pn +1
morning. In fact, it had then been brought there from
the vault, with other moneys; so that to suspect any one,
rendered it necessary to suspect another in concert with
him. Moreover, if one had been in concert with a thief,
who had come in to receive the bag, he could hardly have
taken the bag out without some one's noticing him.

With these reflections and my examinations, I candidly
told the president that it would cost too much to work up
the case on any theory which I could conceive of; that
his only hope was in waiting for something to be disclosed
by accident, perhaps; but that he probably would never
hear of the money, or know any more about the matter
than he now knew, unless this suspicion of mine should
happen to be correct (but how could we be sure of that?),
namely, that the abstraction of this gold was the work
of some bold thief, who, having studied the place, and giving
himself a clerkly style, had suddenly dropped in when
the bank was full of customers and the clerks much occupied,
and passed himself off for one of them for a few
seconds, taken the bag, and walked off with it as coolly as
he came in.

But the president, and I too, after surveying matters
again, conceived that an impossibility--"almost"--still
there <i>was</i> the barest possibility that such might have been
the fact. But if it were, how get a clew to the thief?
How ever identify one dollar, or rather a single one of
the ten dollar pieces? (for it was all in ten dollar pieces, in
rolls: a heavy bag to snatch and carry away unperceived).
There was a serious difficulty in that.

Of course I made the minutest inquiry as to the style
of the bag, and was shown three or four which were said
to be exactly like it, and took down upon my diary a copy
of the special marks upon these. But I kept thinking all
the while that it was folly to do this; and I dismissed
reasoning upon the subject, and thought I might as well
"trust luck" as to refuse to, especially as the president,
in his urgency, said if I would "scour the city thoroughly,"
//446.png
.pn +1
he would pay me so much a day for my time, for a given
number of days, and that if I found any of the money I
might have half of it besides. I told him his offer was
hardly acceptable professionally; that I had my certain
charges for my work by the day, dependent in amount a
little upon the nature of the case, and that that would satisfy
me; and that although I had about as much confidence
in finding out the thief, or discovering the money, as I
would have in labelling a plank "Philadelphia," and throwing
it into the bay at ebb tide, with the expectation it
would float directly to the "City of Brotherly Love," and
land itself duly; yet I would try.

"Well, that's all I can ask. 'Try' that's the word,"
said the president; "and allow me to say that I know that
<i>means</i> something with you, and I cannot say why I feel a
confidence that you will succeed, for everything seems to
be against us. Yet I <i>do</i> feel that success in part, at least,
will be yours. We shall hear where that money has gone
to, even if we cannot secure a dollar of it. But there
must nothing be said outside of the bank. I cautioned the
clerks before you came; for in my whole life I have never
been more ashamed of anything than of this loss, whether
it is the theft of one person, clerk, or what not, or another:
and if it should be the fact that this is only one of those
bold robberies which have sometimes taken place, I should
feel more chagrined than ever."

So I was to keep the matter a profound secret, at any
rate; which is the reason why I may not at least introduce
a name or two, which I should, for some reasons, be pleased
to make public.

It is not a wise thing for a bank to make known to the
public a loss of the kind. It looks like negligence in the
conduct of its affairs. The public, too, would be disposed
to think, even when the truth is told, that the statement
is intended to cover the fact of a greater loss, or that a
defalcation for example, instead of a robbery, has taken
place. There is nothing like an <i>esprit de corps</i> among
//447.png
.pn +1
banks. Each acts for itself,--mercilessly, as regards
every other bank,--unless, perhaps, when some question
of a proposed general tax, which may be thought too high,
is mooted; and each must look out for its reputation for
soundness with scrupulous care.

Time went on, and, engrossed in other affairs, I paid but
little heed to this, comparatively, though I did "try." My
first step was to visit several of the rag-gatherers and
purchasers about the city, and offer a large reward to
each of them should he chance to become possessed of a
peculiarly marked bag (which I described), in such a manner
as to be able to trace its history into his hands. In
this way I made "detectives" of quite a number of persons.
I suspected that the thief would, of course, destroy
the bag, yet I thought it possible that, in the flush of his
success, he might throw it by, and that with other things--old
papers perhaps--it might get to the old rag and
paper men's hands. Besides, I visited certain points where
thieves resort, and certain gambling saloons, with the intent
of seeing if anybody there was peculiarly "flush"
with gold, and I secured the assistance of certain brethren
of the profession to the same end. But I could learn of
nobody who seemed to have had a "windfall" of late, and
it was so long before I got the slightest report from any
of the rag-men, that, when I did, I suspected that the money
would be dissipated, or so "scattered to the four winds,"
even if it led to the fastening of suspicion upon somebody,
that I had but little impulse to pursue the matter.

But finally, a dealer in rags sought me, saying that he
had come across the bag in question, he thought, but that
it was not in his possession, and he had not thought it
best to try to get hold of it till I had seen it. It was in
an up-town carriage-house, the latter belonging to one of
the old aristocracy, and he suspected the bag belonged to
the coachman. He had been called into the house, in the
prosecution of his business, to buy several bags of old
rags, paper, etc., and as the rags, old clothes, etc., were
//448.png
.pn +1
promiscuously thrown together into the bags, without reference
to color or quality, it was difficult to put a price upon
them; the white ones predominating, the housekeeper
would not sell them for the price he would give for unassorted
rags, and so the bags were taken to the carriage-house,
to be assorted and weighed there. While engaged
with the stable-man and one of the servant girls in running
over the rags, his eye happened to light upon a bag tied
with a string, and hanging on a peg, which he saw, by a
peculiar mark, must be like the one I had described to him
so long before; and he asked the stable-man what was kept
in that bag hung up so nicely, and got the reply that it
held some of the coachman's knickknacks; and he thought
best, to make no further inquiries then; but, putting his
hand upon it, he found it held several things which "felt
hard, like iron;" and this was all he knew about it, save
that he, at the time he felt of it, took occasion to examine
the marks upon it further, and felt assured that it was just
the bag in question. He was quite enthusiastic over his
discovery, and wished me to go at once, and look for
myself.

But I could not leave that day, and making an appointment
with him for the next day, met him as agreed, and
proceeded to the carriage house. Fortunately we got in,
without being under the necessity of asking to have the
gate opened, as we watched an opportunity when the carriage
was about being driven out. My friend the rag-man
engineered the <i>entree</i> under my instructions, referring to
his having assorted rags there a day or two before, and
easily got on the good side of the coachman, while I
looked after the bag, which my friend had told me where
to find without trouble. I made up my mind instantly that
that was the bag in question, and sitting down lazily on a
box in the carriage-house, got into a good-natured talk
with the coachman. It was easy to be seen that he was
an innocent enough fellow, and could never have been
guilty of the robbery, or of complicity therein. But I was
//449.png
.pn +1
at a loss to know how to approach him on the subject of
the bag. At last I got up and walked about, and surveying
the things,--various carriages, light buggies, harnesses,
etc., in the barn, which the coachman was pleased
enough to hear me compliment on their order and neatness,
etc.,--I at length listlessly approached the bag,
and taking hold of it, said, "Well, that's a funny mark--coat
of arms, I 'spose?" giving the coachman a slight
wink.

He laughed in his easy-going way, and said, "You're
disposed to joke, I see. No, that's not <i>my</i> coat of arms; I
could not afford it--he! he! he!--but it's my bag, I
confess."

"I've got one just like it at home," said I; "pretty good
bag to wear. I wonder where a fellow could get another
like it?"

"I don't know. I got that off a heap of rags, in a cart
that was standing on the corner here one morning, two or
three weeks ago,--gave the boy six cents for it. Don't
know where you could get another."

"What will you take for it?"

"He! he! <i>hee!</i>" exclaimed the coachman, bursting with
laughter, as if I had said a comical thing. "Why, do you
take me for a rag-dealer? he! he! he! I wouldn't sell it
for nothing; but do you want it much?"

"O, no, not much, but I should like it? want it badly
enough to pay you for it--what you've a mind to ask."

"Wal, I'll give it to you. I thought that morning I
wanted it to put screws and bolts in, but I've got a nice
stand here since, and I can throw 'em in the drawer," as he
pointed out the "stand," and proceeded to take down the
bag and pour the bolts, etc., into the drawer, and handing
the bag to me, said, "Here, I'll make you a present of this
'ere thing,--he! he! hee!" I took it, of course, and
thanked him.

Having got the bag into my possession, I asked him if he
ever saw the man before of whom he bought the bag.
//450.png
.pn +1

"'Twasn't a man, but a boy, that goes by here, every
few days, with a cart."

"Would you know him anywhere you might see him?"

"Yes, he's got a curious look about him that everybody
would remember."

"You've seen him often?"

"Yes. I have seen him go by here ever so many times
within a year."

"Well, I want to find him; and can I hire you to go
with me to-day and pick him out? I'll take you among
the rag-pickers, and I will pay you well."

"He! he! <i>hee!</i> That's funny that you want to find that
nasty-looking chap. Yes, I'll go with you now,--in ten
minutes, if 'tain't too fur."

"We can go in an hour; but perhaps 'twon't be the best
time to find him. He may be out, and we shall not know
whom to inquire for; and if we get on track of anybody
that we think is he, may be you'll have to go again to-morrow.
They'll tell us when he'll be apt to be found at
home."

"I'd know him by his dog, say nothing of himself," interposed
the coachman. "Yes, I'll go;" and the coachman
got ready, and we started off for Sixty-second Street,
where there were then a number of low houses, occupied
by rag-pickers. I thought I would go up instead of down
in the city, as the coachman said the loaded cart of the
rag-man was headed that way. We took a Fourth Avenue
car, and had not gone more than half way to our point of
destination, when the coachman, who was standing on the
platform, having given his seat to a lady, violently pulled
the bell, and called to me: "See here, mister" (for I had
given him no name as yet), "here's the very fellow we're
after;" and I got out with him, and he ran to catch the
rag-man, whom we had just past, and I came up as he had
stopped him.

"This is the man, and that's the tarnal striped dog I
told you of. See here" (to the rag-man); "this man wants
to see you."
//451.png
.pn +1

The rag-man looked at me with wonder and some expression
of fear. "Let him see me, then, if he wants to,"
he muttered; "no <i>great</i> sight, I guess."

"Yes, I wished to see you a minute," said I; "and I
wanted to talk with you. I won't hinder you long, and
will give you twenty-five cents an hour for the time I
hinder you. Here, take that to begin with," slipping a
new twenty-five cent piece of silver into his hand. The
rag-man's eyes glistened, and he looked up with an air of
mingled surprise and gratitude.

"Your route" (for all these fellows have routes of their
own, which they observe with as much honor among themselves
as bakers and milkmen, never trespassing on each
other),--"your route lies, when you go up, along such and
such streets?"--naming some.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, did you ever see this man before?" pointing to
the <target id='tn451'>coachman.

He eyed him carefully, and replied, "'Pears to me I
have; but I dunno."

"Well, did you ever see this bag?" I asked, taking it
from my pocket, and handing it to him.

He looked at it but an instant, and said, "Yes; and
I guess that's the man that give me six cents for it; yes,
that <i>is</i> the man."

"Well, my good fellow," said I, "I want to find out
where you bought it. That's what I hunted you up to inquire
about. I want to find the man that sold it to you."

The <target id='tn451a'>rag-man's memory was good, and he told me where
he got the bag. It was among the last things he purchased
the day he sold it to the coachman; and there was
something about it peculiar, in this, that the rag-man,
grumbling a little at the price he had paid for a few
pounds of rags,--some few cents,--the old woman of
whom he bought them threw that in, and told him to "go
'long."

I dismissed the coachman, offering to pay him for his
//452.png
.pn +1
time, but he would take nothing; and I went on with the
rag-man and his striped dog. But it was slow work, and
we had some distance to go; so I assisted him in getting
his cart and dog housed in a livery stable on our course,
and took the cars, and soon found the old woman, a gatherer
up of old odds and ends, living in Bayard Street, just
out of the Bowery. She traded a "good deal," she said,
"with William, here" (the rag-man), "off and on."

I brought the matter of the bag to her notice. She remembered
it well; and the next thing was to ask where
she got it. That she could tell me, too. She had a daughter
living in a building in Pine Street, below William, and
it was she who sold it to her mother, with a lot of old rags
and papers. "It comed to me," said she, "in the pile I
had from her."

On inquiry, I found that the purchase had been made, as
near as I could calculate, about three days after the robbery.
I employed the old woman to go down to introduce
me to her daughter, whom I found to be a very good, honest
woman, who got a living by cleaning down-town
offices, while her husband did a little private watching,
now and then, and helped "along shore" a little.

The woman being introduced to me by her mother, who
said I was an old friend of hers (as I had asked her to; for
I had given her some slight hint of why I wanted to learn
where the daughter got the bag, and had paid her beforehand
for her time in waiting on me), made ready reply to
my queries.

"Yes, yes; now I do remember," said she, scratching
her forehead in a peculiar way with her stubbed fingers,
"where I got that; it was that sassy brat in ----'s
office gin it to me."

"Where's that?"

Her reply gave me the number of a broker's office in
Wall Street, and things began at once to shape themselves
in my mind. If I had not been a detective, I might have
been surprised; but it was easy now to form an intelligible
//453.png
.pn +1
theory. I did not know this man, and made no inquiries
about him of the woman; but I asked her how the boy
came to give it to her.

"He ain't a young boy," replied she; "he's full-growed,
and has got whiskers,--side whiskers,--but he's full of
old Ned, and acts like a boy, poking fun all the while;
and I call him a boy. Well, he gin it to me one night,--let's
see,"--and she went over the list of names of offices
where she had worked, and said, "Yes, it was Friday,"--fixing
a time just the day after the robbery. She was
there, it seems, just after business hours were over, to
clean the room. Her day there was Saturday, generally,
instead of Friday, and she went three times a week usually,
and washed and mopped. Being a jolly woman, she
was bantering with the "boy" (clerk), as she called him,
who had staid to lock up after her. The clerk had thrown
some old papers upon her, which he gave her to carry off,
and she'd made a wad of some of them, and thrown them
back to him; and so they had "smouched" each other,--as
she termed that sort of play,--when just as she was
going out, the clerk seized this bag from under the counter,
and threw it, rolled up, at her head. She seized it, and
said, "Thank you; this will do to bile puddings in; I'll
take it."

"Take it, Sarah," said he; "and we'll call it quits for
now," as she left the office.

That was her circumstantial account. I was glad, of
course, to find her memory so clear. There was no mistaking
that evidence. The next step was to make the
acquaintance of that boy, or clerk; and to do so, I went
next day into the broker's office to get some money
changed. The clerk was in; and after doing my business,
I got into some conversation with him,--for I had taken
an early hour when I knew there would be few customers
in. I found him apparently an excellent young man, good-hearted,
intelligent, and honest, I thought. His employer
was not in; but I called at a later hour of the day, having
//454.png
.pn +1
watched the premises, and seen the clerk go out on some
errand, and got some money changed by the broker; and
I studied him as well as I could. He was a wiry man,
of medium size, with much determination in his face, indicated
particularly by one of those protruding chins,
which disclose not only force of character, but the ability
to do mean, desperate things.

My mind was made up that the broker was the man who
stole the money--such was my fixed opinion; and now
how to trap him. The clerk was an honest young man; of
that I was quite satisfied. The broker could not, I thought,
be doing a large business, and his face did not indicate
that liberality which would allow his giving his clerk (and
he had but one, in his little basement den of an office)
a large salary, and I made up my mind that the first step
was to get the clerk out of that office into some other
place, by giving him a larger salary.

At this juncture of affairs I sought the president, and
told him that I had traced the matter into a Wall Street
broker's office; but did not at that time tell him where;
that there was a clerk in the office who was evidently a
very nice and efficient fellow, and that I wanted to get
him out of there as the next step; that he was surely a
good penman, and probably a first-rate bookkeeper; and
he must find a place for him, and I would try to get him out.

To this the president quickly consented, and told me to
call next day, and he would have some place or other for
him, among some of his friends. We discussed what a
clerk probably got a year in such a place; and decided
that two hundred dollars more would be bribe enough for
him. "And I'll do better than that for him, if necessary,"
said the president. "Now tell me who this broker is, if
you please."

I declined to tell him then, for I wished to get my evidence
a little more certain. I called the next day as he
told me, and found that he had been active, and had secured
three or four places for the young man, should I find
//455.png
.pn +1
it necessary to get him into one. I lost no time in coming
upon the young man that day, as he went out to his customary
lunch, and walked along with him, managing to
address myself to his jocose nature, and we sat beside
each other on stools at the restaurant. I went out with
him, and a part of the way to his office with him too, when,
stopping suddenly, I said,--

"I must go another way; hope to meet you again;" and
drawing my handkerchief suddenly from the outer breast
pocket of my coat, as if to wipe my mouth, flirted out with
it some tickets, three of them to Wallack's Theatre, with
which I had prepared myself for the purpose. These were
"complimentaries," with which I was not unfrequently
supplied, in view of some services I had once rendered
Mr. James Wallack, in a matter involving no small amount
of jewels, etc.

I picked up the tickets as they fell to the pavement, and,
said I, "This is providential for you, perhaps. I see you
like fun; there's a good comedy on to-night; would you
like to go?" handing him one of the tickets. "And here's
another; may be you'd like to take your lady."

"Ho, ho!" said he, "that's generous; but I won't take
but one, for I haven't any lady to take."

"Well, give one to some friend, and take him along;"
but he declined, and the upshot of the matter was, that he
agreed to meet me at the Metropolitan that night, and go
with me. I told him to keep his tickets, and bring along
any friend. But he came alone, and I was glad of it. The
play was excellent, and between acts we discussed it. I
fancied I had gotten well into his good graces before it
was over; and when it was, we walked out, and along
Broadway together, and stopped once or twice and "lemonaded."
The young man was temperate, as I was glad to
find--all the better witness--and before he reached home
that night, I managed to find out all about his salary, etc.,
and had told him that a young man of his parts ought to
have a better place. He felt so too, of course; but said
//456.png
.pn +1
it was hard to find, as he had no friends to help him. Unfortunately,
he said, all his relatives in New York were
of the medium class of people in money matters; and his
father, who was a Methodist minister, and had some influence
with his people when living, had died some five
years before, and these church people had pretty much
forgotten them.

I found that, from the latitude the president had given
me, I could offer the young man a salary that astonished
him. He said he could leave his employer at any time,
with one day's notice, for there were calls every day for
employment by clerks. Suffice it that in four days from
that time I had the young man installed as bookkeeper in
a house where he got nearly double his former salary. Besides,
in my going about with him, I had fished out facts
enough in the career of the broker, his old employer, to
convince me that he was all I had taken him for.

Finally, I went back to the president, and told him whom
I suspected, and what my evidence was, and that I had
not yet said anything to the young man about the bag or
about him; and we arranged it that the young man should
be invited to his house by me the next night; which was
done, and he accompanied me. The president had prepared
a room for a private conference, and after I had introduced
the young man to the president, and informed him
that he, and not I, was his benefactor, to whom the young
man expressed his gratitude, I took up a paper from off
the table on which I had placed it, and under which I had
slyly tucked the bag. I had gotten the young man seated
near the table. As I lifted the paper, and noticed the bag
with its peculiar mark on it, I said to the president,--

"Beg pardon, Mr. ----, but this singular device excited
my curiosity;" and I took up the bag and looked at it.
"Allow me to ask what it is."

"O," said he, "it's a sort of private coat of arms. 'Tis a
little curious, isn't it?" and he commented on it; and I, as
//457.png
.pn +1
a matter of politeness, passed it to the young man, asking,
"Did you ever see anything like it before?"

"No, not that I know of," said he; "and yet there's something
familiar to me about this bag," and he turned it over.
"No, I never saw this device upon anything!" and he laid
it down, and the conversation dropped on that point, and
we fell into conversation about his old employer, the
amount of his business, his habits, and so forth, and it was
easy to see that he had no great respect for him. Finally I
led on to the matter of having seen the jolly scrubber there,
the woman Sarah, to whom he had given the bag; and
finding she proved to be all right, I said to him, "Sarah
gave me that bag, and that bag got you your present place,
through the kindness of Mr. ---- <target id='tn457'>here."

The young man looked astonished, with a question in
his eye, as if asking me to explain----.

"Well, I will explain. You remember one day (fixing
the time), that, after office hours, when she came there to
scrub, you and she got into a frolic, and threw things at
each other?"

"O, yes," said he, "very well; and I hauled the bag
out from under the counter, and threw it at her."

"Just so; that's her story too. And now I wish to ask
you if you knew how that bag got under the counter?"

"Why, certainly. Mr. ----" (his employer, the broker),
"took it out of his pocket a day or two before, and tucked
it under there."

"What was his condition that day? that is, what was
his health?"

"O, that was one of his nervous days, and he was much
excited."

"What did he place this bag with there--what's
there?"

"There's a shelf there; and the day I gave it to Sarah,
I had been putting some papers there, and pulled it out,
and remembered it."
//458.png
.pn +1

"Then he wouldn't be apt to see it, to remind him of
its being there?"

"No, sir, not unless he stooped down to get something
there."

It was evident to me, then, how the broker had forgotten
it. We managed to make inquiries enough to satisfy
ourselves that the broker was much excited at that time,
and that he about the same time had made purchase of
some building lots in "East New York," on Long Island,
for he speculated in real estate somewhat, and was a
pretty close man, and "rich enough," as the young man
thought.

We had obtained all the evidence we were likely to, and
the young man and I left, he being in ignorance of how
and to what end we had gotten that bag there. The next
step was to get at the broker. We examined into his real
estate, and found the young man right in his judgment--the
broker was well off. We laid many plans; and he
wanted to secure the money, and it wouldn't answer to do
things by halves. Our broker was a desperate man, but
a nervous one, and I thought the best way was to take the
lion by his mane. So, stalking into his office,--I being
well armed,--I invited him into his little back room, having
placed the president near the office, to come in a minute
after me. I engaged the broker in conversation for
half a minute, and then suddenly pulling out the bag,
asked him (nodding my head towards the other little front
room where the new clerk was); and saying, "No noise,
unless you are disposed to make it," I asked,--

"Did you ever see that before, sir?"

He reached his hand for it, turning pale.

"No, I never saw it."

"Do you know whose it is?"

"No, I don't," half stammering, but with an air of decision.
Luckily, just at this time, the president stalked in.

"Here's a man who will tell you whose it is," said I;
//459.png
.pn +1
and holding it up to the president, I asked, "Whose is this
bag?"

"Mine," said he; "but the gold that was taken with it
was the ---- Bank's," as he eyed Mr. ----, the broker,
sternly; "and you are the man who took it."

"I protest," said the broker, "that I never saw that bag
before;" but his manner showed guilt.

"Well," said I, "that's a question of evidence. Excuse
me for a moment, and be calm;" and I stepped to the door,
and nodded to the old clerk to come in. He came, and
the broker's astonishment was evidently great.

"Did you ever see that before? and where did you first
see it?" I asked of the clerk.

"In Mr. ----'s" (the broker's) "hands."

"Where did he take it from, and what did he do
with it?"

The young man told his simple story; and I told him
we would relieve him, and away he went, still ignorant of
the theft, but probably wondering what it all meant.

I then said to the broker, "You are most thoroughly
caught. That young man is only one of our witnesses,
and he does not know of your theft yet. You are surrounded
on all sides, and I advise you to send your clerk
out on business, and settle up matters here at once. We
want the money back, and pay for our time."

There was a momentary struggle in the broker's heart.
He was very pale, and his firm set chin quivered for a
moment. He evidently took in the whole situation of
affairs; but I thought I would not leave him wholly to his
unaided reflections, and I remarked, for it was all clear
now, of course, how the thing had been done:--

"From the hour that you personated a clerk, and coolly
walked behind the desk and took the money, you must
understand that you were known--recognized; but we
needed further proof to convict you. The bag has supplied
that," (and I saw, as I spoke, that a light went over his
countenance, as if some purpose of his soul had suddenly
//460.png
.pn +1
changed). "Had we followed you up at once, and found
this gold, we could not have identified it; and we have followed
you, therefore, with tireless patience, and would
have pursued you for a year yet. You see your condition.
We do not wish to prosecute you criminally, unless
you force us to do so. You may have stolen the money
under a pressure, or in some hour of temptation, which
would never come again. We want our money and pay
for our time, as I have said; and we do not propose to
delay at all. Do you understand me?"

The broker quivered for a moment. There was a struggle
of pride in his soul which he gratified with an oath,
which I will not repeat here, condemning his folly and himself
to the "bottomless pit," and then he sank back in his
chair, and tears filled his eyes.

"Gentlemen," said he, "I give it up. You are very
lenient. That gold has cursed me every day. I was a
madman that day. Had been drinking a little. It was
only one stout glass of brandy, though, for I seldom touch
a drop" (which I know to be true). "I had a month before
read a story in a London paper which ---- sent me"
(naming a well-known broker of Wall Street, who had gone
to Europe on business), "narrating the like exploit of a
bold thief. I found myself often thinking of his daring,
and that day the fiend got hold of me. It was but the
work of a moment. I was near the ---- ---- ---- Bank.
I stepped in, and saw many there; stuck my hat in here"
(within his vest, a small slouched hat); "and before I
knew it, the thing was done. There's my confession. Do
with me what you please. I have often resolved to restore
the money; but I have as often failed, for fear that
somehow I'd get found out."

"Well, we are satisfied," said I; "and all we want is
what I have asked."

"Of course it shall be done; but for God's sake you
must forgive me, and forever conceal my name, for I
//461.png
.pn +1
never can do such a thing again. I have suffered too
much from it."

"The matter has been concealed from everybody except
the clerks in the bank, who are pledged to secrecy;
not even your own clerk knows that any money has been
lost, and nobody but Mr. ----" (the president) "and me
has any suspicion of you. We wanted to get the money
more than we wanted you."

"I am ready to settle now," said he.

But he had not on hand all the money we wanted; but
before two hours were over proper deeds, in due legal
form and execution, conveyed to the president, in personal
mortgage, at least five times as much as was needed to
make up the deficit in cash. This proved the most lucrative
job for me which I ever "worked up," and the bank
got back all its money, with interest thereon.

It only remains for me to say, that that broker became
an "altered man" in some respects. I did not like his
countenance, and I did not believe his expressions of
penitence fully. There was a dark, bad "streak" in his
nature, I thought; but he has committed no more robberies,
I suspect, unless they were done in his capacity
of member of the Common Council, to which body he was
afterwards elected, having left Wall Street, and entered
upon other than the broker's business, and turned a ward
politician. But let not other thieves, therefore, nourish
hope from the example of his good (or bad) fortune.
//462.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=privatemark
$1,250,000, OR THE PRIVATE MARK.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
MONEY-GETTING AS RELATED TO CRIME--A VERY STRANGE HISTORY--THE
MOST WONDROUS PURSUIT OF A MAN BY HIS ENEMY WHICH EVER
(PROBABLY) WAS KNOWN IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD--JAMES
WILLIAM HUBERT ROGERS AND "NED" HAGUE, TWO ENGLISHMEN--"DAMON
AND PYTHIAS" IN EARLY LIFE--A CHANGE COMES--A DEPARTED
AND CONSIDERATE UNCLE DESCRIBED, ONCE A PROTEGE OF
THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA--OLIVER CROMWELL HAGUE, A RICH INDIA
MERCHANT--A MARVELOUS SEARCH FOR A LOST MAN--A MAN FOUND
AND IDENTIFIED BY NUMEROUS FRIENDS AS THE ONE IN QUESTION--PLOTTING
AND COUNTER-PLOTTING--A SHREWD VERMONT "LAWYER"
MAKES A THOUSAND POUNDS STERLING--THE INDEFATIGABLE ROGERS
COMES TO AMERICA IN HIS SEARCH--LOST IN THE VASTNESS OF THE
COUNTRY--WE MEET, AND DEPART FOR ST. LOUIS--TROUBLES, AND
AN ENLIGHTENING DREAM--A WICKED LAWYER--THE RIGHT TO REPENT--A
SPIRITED COLLOQUY WITH THE LAWYER--AN ENEMY FOUND
AND SET TO WORK--THE GRASPING LAWYER OUTWITTED--THE LOST
FOUND IN A TERRIBLE CONDITION--A LITTLE PRIVATE FUN OVER THE
LAWYER'S DISCOMFITURE--A SHARP EXAMINATION AND CROSS-EXAMINATION--LAWYER
OUTWITTED, AND LOSES FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS--MR.
ROGERS DEPARTS WITH THE "LOST ONE," BOUND FOR ENGLAND--THE
SUDDEN DROWNING OF THE LATTER AT SEA--THE CHERISHED
VICTORY OF YEARS VANISHES--OUT, WITH A LAUGH.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>The</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
The
.if-
"battle of life" has so many phases, and my own
experiences have run in so many channels, and my knowledge
of human curiosity is so extensive, and my desire in
these papers to gratify the same so great, that I am at a
loss, as I turn over my diaries and notes of other histories
of the past years to-day, what to select from my notes next;
for, whatever disposition my publishers may make of this
in the arrangement of these chapters, this is really one of
the very last of them all in the order of writing, and one of
the very last in point of fact, which I shall ever enlarge
from my notes into current narrative. But my notes are
//463.png
.pn +1
so full, that my friends, after I am gone, should they desire
to put before the world a supplement of these experiences,
will have but little trouble--that, simply, of telling the
tales in their own style. But it strikes me that the reader
must feel, as he reads, something of the interest I felt as
an actor, in part, in the scenes which it narrates.

Of the "battle of life," then, no phase can well be of so
much interest to the great majority as that of money-getting.
This absorbs everything, and is, in fact, the great
source of nine tenths, at least, of all human crimes. But
"money-getting," as well as wealth itself, has its "different
sides,"--its positive and comparative, I might almost
say, negative characteristics. Wealth, in one locality,
would be comparative poverty in another; that is, the
amount of money which constitutes a man "wealthy" in a
far off country town, would be sneered at as a very trifle in
this great metropolis, New York; would hardly be enough
to support the possessor for a year among the moderate
livers of the city, with their luxury and indulgences,
which cost so much more than those of the country.

I said that money-getting is comparative also. It is, in
this sense. The envious wrestler for the smiles of the
"Money God" has not only his positive work to do, but
often feels it as much his duty to defeat others as to win
himself; as the driver of the winning horse at the races
often succeeds only by defeating his competitor's horse--"breaking
him up," for example, by some more or less
honorable mode--any mode which the rules of the race
do not absolutely forbid. So in this case I am about to
recite--the most wonderful hunt, perhaps, and the most
exciting and long-continued, and replete with ludicrous,
solemn, dangerous, as well as joyful incidents, which ever
characterized any cause, and was carried on literally around
the globe, inspired and sustained by the desire of a
man, a rich man, not to profit by it himself, but to defeat
his enemy and keep him poor, that he might not become a
competitor with him, as a man of wealth, for the smiles, adulations,
//464.png
.pn +1
and sycophancies of the peasant, and small farming
and mercantile population of a little town in England.

The name of this strange man was James William Hubert
Rogers, which he always wrote out in full, with true
English pride, even when subscribing the shortest letter,
as well as a five thousand pound promissory note. He reminded
me in this of sundry gentlemen I have met, of our
sister city, Boston, who, proud of the "Athens of America,"
take greatest pains in entering their full names--though
frequently the initial of the first, and the middle name, if
any, in full, in the dandaical style--in hotel registers.
"J. Adams Bromfield," "H. Gray Otis Ticknor," with
BOSTON "displayed" (as the printers would say) over as
much space as possible, as if it would surely reflect credit
on the person himself.

James William Hubert Rogers was a peculiar man. I
have thought that his history, even the comparatively
little I know of it, would be one of the most interesting
biographies ever published; but I do not intend to give
more of it here than will be necessary to make this narrative
connected and clear. Mr. Rogers had been brought
up in moderate circumstances, educated to mercantile life
in a small way, in a country place in Yorkshire. Prior to
being apprenticed, at seventeen years of age, to a merchant,
he had constantly attended school from about the
age of six years; and whether at the "infant school," or
the private classical school of some pretensions, had been
as constantly attended by a bosom friend, just "one day
and one hour older" than he, as their respective mothers
were wont to tell them. This person's name was "Ned"
Hague; (whether he, too, had a list of other cumbrous
names I never asked, but I presume he had, and I wonder
such a burden does not spoil the disposition of children--perhaps
it does.) James and Ned played together, romped,
studied, and all that together; as children, were inseparable,
in short. The one, "Ned," was described to me as a
very handsome fellow, and very athletic. James was
//465.png
.pn +1
equally athletic, but was less handsome in face; in fact,
though his features were all well enough formed, and there
was a hardy look about his face, yet there was a something
in his expression of countenance which was at times very
repulsive to me; a dogged, unfeeling look, not simply spiteful,
but somehow of unwearying, cool-blooded vengeance;
yet he was always kind and generous to me throughout our
acquaintance. "Ned" came into the world under a little
better auspices than James, that is, his parents were a little
"better off," and lived in a house which they owned, a little
more stylish than that which James's parents occupied, but
rented. However, James's father was a better business
man than Ned's father, and earned a larger salary. So
things were balanced; but James confessed to me that he
used, on account of the better house, to be a particle envious
of Ned's condition in their childhood, but this was
all the ill-feeling he ever had towards him in those days.
But James went to mercantile life at seventeen; and a
year after, "Ned," having quite an aptitude for writing,
connected himself with a small provincial newspaper. The
young men continued their intimacy, which was carried
into their love affairs as well as into everything else, until
they arrived at the age of twenty-three, when there came
an "interruption" of their mutual affection, which finally
degenerated into mutual dislike, and upon the part of
James, whom we will now call Mr. Rogers, into unforgiving,
implacable hate. What was the precise cause of this I was
never informed in detail, but I learned the general facts
from a friend of Mr. Rogers's, whom I met in England some
two years after I first made his acquaintance. From all I
could gather, there was really no sensible reason for the
great enmity which came to exist between these men.
But this is not a part of the story, properly, and I must
pass it over.

Years went on, and Mr. Rogers and Mr. Hague continued
to live near each other. The latter abandoned his steady
connection with the newspapers, though he continued to
//466.png
.pn +1
write for the press more or less, and went into business
with an old apothecary, and finally succeeded to his whole
business at his death. He was more fortunate, for years,
than was Mr. Rogers, who, however, managed to live comfortably,
and to add considerably to his possessions. During
these years, and after their quarrel commenced, the
dislike of these men grew into a sort of silent hatred.
They had but little to say of each other, but what they did
say was crispy with bitterness. Those who remembered
their early-life's affection, were astonished that anything
could have wrought such an enmity; for both of these men
were considered honorable and upright in their dealings
with their fellow-men, and were genial citizens, of democratic
tastes and associations.

But finally Mr. Rogers became suddenly very rich, through
a legacy left him by a quaint old uncle, the brother of his
mother, who, in Mr. Rogers's boyhood, had taken a fancy
to him. The uncle was a deformed man,--a little in the
order of Richard Third,--and this might be said of him,
mentally as well as physically. He was competent to have
filled the British throne with more credit than many a monarch
who has sitten upon it. But Henry De Noyelles (for
that was the uncle's name--sprung from an old Norman
stock) had curious deformities of face, which excited great
ridicule among the heartless. His eyes could not be said
to be "crossed" exactly, but something worse, and his
nose was oddly shaped, besides being very flexible, and it
flapped about as if there was "no bone in it," as the people
used to say of it.

Mr. De Noyelles was naturally a proud-spirited man,
who felt that, intellectually, he was no man's inferior by
nature, and his deformities stung him to the quick. He
was a great mechanic naturally, very ingenious and executive;
had a rare force for acquiring languages and the
sciences; and, driven from society by his deformity and
his wounded pride, he occupied his hours out of business
with constant reading, and his acquirements in literature
//467.png
.pn +1
became large. He devoted himself considerably in his
youth to mathematical studies, and had a great proclivity
to civil engineering. He inherited a moderate fortune
from his father, and after becoming of age, and feeling
that he was ridiculed among his fellow-townsmen, became
morose, and learned to hate all English people, and finally
betook himself to the Continent, and soon, in some way,
attracted the attention of the Emperor of Austria, who
gave him place at last as a Superintendent of Engineers,
in which capacity his inventive genius served him, and
in the course of a few years he became one of the most
able operators in Europe, and, enjoying an interest in
many valuable contracts, acquired, at last, a vast fortune.
Ill-looking that he was, there were elegant women enough
ready to marry him for his position and money. But he
remained a bachelor, partly through fear of women, whom
he looked upon as lacking in conscience, and none of
whom, he felt, could really love such a looking creature
as he. But he had another reason, which would have decided
him, if nothing else had done so. It was this--and
when I was told of it, I confess that I felt more respect
for the good in humanity than I had ever done before.
He said he was unfit for marriage, since he was unfit to
be a father; that it were very possible that a child of his
would inherit his deformities, especially that of the nose,
and that the wealth of all Europe would not induce him to
be instrumental in inflicting life upon a being who might
suffer as he had done. Indeed, he held peculiar notions
upon this subject in general; and taking Malthus's notions
in regard to a possible over-peopling of the globe,
and the direful consequences thereof, as a basis to write
upon, he dilated his views into a small book, which, however,
both the Catholic and Protestant doctors of Austria
so seriously condemned as heretical, that he came near
losing his official position under the government.

But I digress again. Mr. De Noyelles, or as he was
called in Austria, for his great learning, Dr. De Noyelles,
//468.png
.pn +1
fell in love with young Rogers, because the boy exhibited
an affection for him, and never seemed to be conscious
of his uncle's deformities, but treated him as affectionately
and obediently as he did his own handsome
mother, and noble-looking, symmetrical father, or anybody
else. Mr. Rogers had paid his uncle, at the latter's invitation
and expense, a short annual visit, for some years,
and when Dr. De Noyelles came to die, it was found
that he had privately visited England, where the great
bulk of his funds was invested, the year before, and had
made his will largely in favor of Mr. Rogers, after contributing
to sundry charities in a large and generous way,
and providing moderately for his sister's (Mr. Rogers's
mother) other children.

So Mr. Rogers got to be extremely wealthy; and though
it was said of him, by his old neighbors in general, that his
great fortune did not seem to make him vain as a man, or
render him less approachable than before, it was evident
that he prized his good luck most of all for the contrast
which it established between him--now the man of abundant
leisure and great wealth--and Mr. Hague, still the
plodding, though well-to-do, apothecary. In various ways
he made, or tried to make, Mr. Hague feel this, but it
would seem that the latter gentleman was very imperturbable,
and took things quite coolly.

Mr. Rogers set up another apothecary in business, at a
point near Mr. Hague's shop, and provided him with a
large shop, with brilliant appointments and a large stock,
and he caused him to sell cheaper than Mr. Hague could
afford to. Indeed, it was said that Mr. Rogers lost some
two thousand pounds the first year, in thus going into
competition with Mr. Hague; but he persevered. In
England it is not an easy thing to draw away customers
from an old house where the people can rely upon honest
dealings; but Mr. Rogers was bent on doing Mr. Hague
all the harm he could. Of course he did not let the public
know that he was at the bottom of the matter.
//469.png
.pn +1

The apothecary, whom he provided with means, came
from Liverpool, and Mr. Rogers was at first supposed to
have given him only his custom and countenance in trade.
But Mr. Hague suspected him from the first; and as things
developed, and he became sure of Mr. Rogers's financial
support of his rival, Mr. Hague whispered the matter to
his own friends, who came, to some extent, to his aid. So
the competition became spirited at last, and Mr. Hague
found it difficult to contend with his competitor.

Little by little his business frittered away, and he was
barely able to meet his current expenses. Mr. Rogers
evidently gloated over the downfall of his once bosom
friend, now hated enemy; but he <i>said</i> never a word
against him, seldom spoke of him at all. Meanwhile Mr.
Rogers surrounded himself with all luxuries; bought a
splendid old mansion and its magnificent grounds, which
he greatly improved, and though not a gaudy man, was
vain enough to consult a herald office, and look up a coat
of arms for his coach panels and the trappings of his
horses' harnesses. He took a great delight in riding after
his splendid horses along by the comfortable, but comparatively
humble, house of Mr. Hague, and in arraying his
wife and children in an attire too costly, not only for Mr.
Hague, but any of his neighbors to attempt to imitate.
Mr. Rogers enjoyed this kind of mean spite and low pride
for considerable time, but there came a turn in affairs.

Thirty years before these days of which I was last
speaking, Oliver Hague, or rather Oliver Cromwell Hague,--for
he was named after the great Pretender, by his
mother, the stanchest of all Protestants, and who was very
proud of her ancestors' service under the great Oliver,--a
then quite thriving London merchant, went out to
India to extend his business there, with the purpose of
returning in a year or so; but he remained there. His
brother Edward, after whom <i>our</i> Mr. Hague was named,
conducted the London end of the business, and the house
grew rich very fast.
//470.png
.pn +1

Mr. Edward was older than Oliver, and was at the time
of Oliver's departure a married man, and the father of
some five or six children. Meanwhile all these children
but two died, and one of the others had proved a wild,
graceless fellow, and at the early age of sixteen, after sundry
dissipations, had fled to America. But little had been
heard from him by his family for years, and when Mr.
Oliver made his will, he had provided for this boy,--now
man, if he could be found,--otherwise, what would come
to him (his name was Frederic), was to go to Edward,--the
"Ned" of our story,--mostly to himself, and one part
in trust for his younger brother and his sisters, for he was
the eldest child of the family. Mr. Oliver Hague set aside
a certain sum, which was to be used in the search for
Frederic, if necessary. All reasonable means of finding
him were to be exhausted, and then, upon satisfactory report
to the court,--for the search was directed to be made
by persons "of good and faithful disposition," as the will
read,--that its directions had been followed unavailingly,
then the property was to be decreed to be Edward's,
whether Frederic were really living or not, Edward to
provide him an expressed and generous annuity in case
he should thereafter come to light. The will provided,
too, that Frederic, if found, should give Edward a like annuity.

Great search was made for Frederic. I should say
here that the senior Edward and his son William had gone
out to India to visit Oliver, and had died there before
Oliver's death, and that all the business of the house
of Oliver C. Hague & Brother had been really that of
Oliver alone, his brother having been contented with a
simple commission, in their private contract, expecting to
succeed, at some time, to the whole business when Oliver
should die, as he expected, years before him, as he was
many years older than he. Numerous advertisements
were inserted in the papers of the United States and
Canada, and every possible means taken to find Frederic,
//471.png
.pn +1
even to sending a man to Australia, where, by one account,
it was said that Frederic had gone years before.

A messenger was sent to the United States, too, with
instruction to visit the various cities, and to advertise as
largely as possible, engage detective policemen when
practical, etc. And the messenger did his work thoroughly
as he went on. Months rolled away, and the weekly
communications of the messenger added no light to the
whereabouts, or the existence even, of Frederic Hague--they
only gave assurance of where he was <i>not</i>.

Meanwhile Mr. Edward Hague kept on in the even
tenor of his way, doubtless hoping that Frederic would
not be found, or, perhaps, wishing that he had "gone to
heaven long before." But every day Mr. Edward's neighbors
grew more and more gratulatory of him on the probable
fortune coming to him, and his good luck of the
annuity at least, but of which he would obtain nothing till
it was sure that Frederic was found, or could not be discovered.
Mr. Edward, I was told, showed excellent sense
during those days, and did not allow himself to be moved
to vanity in his hopes. As time went on he became, of
course, more certain in his opinion that Frederic would not
be found.

But there was one man who took a fierce interest in
this business. He became nervous over it. His enmity
towards many increased; in fact, he began to hate the
whole world, that it did not deliver up Frederic Hague to
life and light; and that man was James Williams Hubert
Rogers. He could not bear the thought that his old enemy,
"Ned" Hague, should come into the possession of a
fortune reputed, at that time, to be vastly larger than his
own, and which proved, on the settlement of the estate,
more than twice as large as his, being, in minimum, two
hundred and fifty thousand pounds. There were certain
contingent interests which swelled it a good deal. A
million and a quarter of dollars constituted no mean estate,
and Mr. Rogers could not bear to be thrown into the shade
//472.png
.pn +1
by it, in the hands of one he hated, too. So he interested
himself in the matter, opening private correspondence
with sundry persons he knew in the United States, and
well he got come up with for his pains.

There was residing, somewhere in Vermont, a lawyer,
who had interested himself on behalf of persons residing
in America, and entitled to property in chancery, etc., in
England. To his knowledge came the fact of this search
for Frederic Hague, and Mr. Rogers's interest in it, and he
managed, through some London friend of his, to have himself
named to Mr. Rogers as just the man to hunt up Frederic.
"If anybody <i>can</i> find him <i>he</i> can," so said the London
friend. Mr. Rogers opened correspondence with the
Vermont lawyer, and the result was that, in the course of
a few months, the lawyer succeeded in finding Mr. Frederic
Hague,--"a sickly man," as he described him,--who,
having been through all sorts of vicissitudes in life,
had settled down in an obscure town in upper New York
State. This man, the lawyer found, answered to all the
descriptions of Mr. Hague which had been elicited from
the correspondence of Mr. Rogers.

It was agreed that the greatest efforts should be made
to restore this man to health, and send him over to England
to claim his property. Mr. Rogers was more than
delighted. He sent to the lawyer to have a detailed statement
made by Mr. Frederic Hague, and sworn to, as to
what he remembered of his life in England, and what experiences
he had undergone since, down to the hour; all
of which was duly made out, and forwarded to Mr. Rogers,
who was perfectly satisfied with the same, and indulged
himself with secretly gloating over the terrible defeat
which was to come to Mr. Edward Hague, who, by this
time, was confident that Frederic would never be found;
and he enjoined secrecy on the Vermont lawyer; he wanted
all the glory himself; and he wished to have Frederic there
in England, and present him to the commissioners who had
//473.png
.pn +1
the matter in hand, before it was known that he had been
found.

In his statement, Frederic had disclosed that he had
married rather late in life, and had a small family dependent
upon him; and as he got better, and was about ready
to depart for England, the lawyer wrote to Mr. Rogers,
representing the dependent circumstances of Mr. Hague's
family, and asking a loan for him of two thousand pounds,
and asking also for a hundred pounds for his own services.
Mr. Rogers thought this moderate enough, and forwarded
to the lawyer, through the British consulate in New York,
a check for two thousand one hundred pounds, with the
form of a note for Frederic to sign to cover the two thousand
pounds; and the lawyer and Mr. Hague appeared
duly at the consulate, and received the money.

It afterwards appeared that this Mr. Frederic received
only one thousand dollars of the sum, besides his expenses
to and from England. The lawyer made sure of the rest.
The man went over, and played his part as Frederic
Hague for a time, quite successfully, and it is possible
that he might have succeeded, for he found several old
people who identified him as the Frederic, and were ready
to swear to their memory of him. But an old American
friend and former schoolmate of the man chanced to come
across him when in company with some persons interested
in the estate he was after,--one of whom chanced to be
Edward Hague, who was himself deceived,--and the
American gentleman rushed up to him, overjoyed to meet
him on foreign soil, exclaiming, "Why, Dick Clapp, how
<i>do</i> you do? What on earth can have brought you over
here?"

Clapp was for an instant taken aback, but rallied, denied
his name, and declared that the American gentleman was
mistaken, etc.; and this he did, unhappily for him, in such
an ungracious way, as made his old friend angry.

"Dick Clapp!" said he, "I hope you are not over
here on business you are ashamed of. I swear you <i>are</i>
//474.png
.pn +1
Dick Clapp, and I went to school with you and your
brother James, and your sisters Mary, Adeline, and Isabella,
in the good old town of Putney. Now, if you are
here up to anything you ought to be ashamed of, you
should have given me the wink when you denied yourself,
and not acted so like a d--d hog."

There was no mistaking the American's conviction that
he knew Mr. Clapp, and Mr. Edward Hague called the
man aside, and told him what this Mr. Frederic Hague had
come over for. The American was indignant, and offered
to prove Clapp's identity at his own expense; said he
would send over to America for witnesses to come out,
and identify him, and then went and told Clapp he had
better get out of the country as soon as he could, or he
would expose him through the press of the United States.
Clapp defied him; but it was too evident to all present
that he was an impostor, and it is supposed that when Mr.
Rogers came to hear of the fact, he felt as if the Yankee
lawyer had been too shrewd for him.

It afterwards appeared that Rogers had not been carrying
on the correspondence with <i>the</i> lawyer he supposed to
be his correspondent. Some other lawyer had assumed
the real lawyer's name, and given it an initial letter of a
middle name. The London friend had not discovered or
thought of this, and was himself imposed upon (he who
commended the Yankee lawyer to Mr. Rogers). So when
Mr. Rogers afterwards instituted proceedings against a
certain Vermont lawyer to recover the amount of the
swindle, he found he had been dealing with some other
man--an "unknown" and unknowable.

Clapp got out of England at his early convenience, and
the search of Frederic was about being given up; but
during the excitement in regard to Clapp, an account of
what was going on reached an old playmate of Frederic's,
living some twenty miles away from where Mr. Edward
Hague lived, and this man remembered that one time,
when he and Edward, as boys of about eight years of age,
//475.png
.pn +1
were playing in the loft of an old carriage-house, Edward,
jumping from a beam, had got his foot entangled in something,
and fell slantingly upon the teeth of a kind of hatchel,--and
terribly lacerated the flesh on the back portion of
his left shoulder, tearing the flesh, in fact, nearly off from
the scapular bone. This wound, he said, left great scars.
He had, in after years, frequently been bathing with Frederic,
and knew that he must bear these scars for life. He
therefore wrote to Mr. Edward Hague that Frederic could
be identified by that "private mark," and Mr. Edward
gave publicity to the fact, and quite a number of people
then called the facts to mind.

It so happened that in the correspondence Mr. Rogers
had heard of a man in Missouri who said he was the Frederic
Hague, and gave a pretty good account of matters
before he left England, and had told Mr. Rogers's correspondent,
a lawyer, of this very incident of the injury in
the carriage-house, and stated that he had borne the scars of
it all his life since. This had been communicated to Rogers,
but the lawyer had added, in his letter, that, on the whole,
he did not believe the man's story; that he had, as near
as he could learn, been a gambler; had lived much, too,
among the Indians; was a drunkard, and much broken
down, and quite incoherent in his memory. Still he sometimes
thought that he was, after all, the Frederic Hague
so much wanted, but he could not conscientiously advise
Mr. Rogers to spend any money on him.

When the fact of Frederic's "private mark" was called
to mind, Rogers again took heart, and searched his papers
for the lawyer's letters, but they could not be found. He
fancied to himself that perhaps some secret emissary of
Edward Hague had been rifling his papers, and he got into
torrents of anger over it, till at last he swore he would
trust no man, and would go out to America himself to find
Frederic Hague, "and restore him to his lawful rights."
His friends remonstrated, pointed him to the perils of the
sea, the sickly character of a great portion of our Western
//476.png
.pn +1
States, etc.; but the hardy old man, for he was getting beyond
middle age now, would hear to none of them. He
made his will, left his affairs in good hands, and out to
America he came, and it was three days after his arrival
that I made his acquaintance. He could remember neither
the Missouri lawyer's name nor that of his post office, and
it was suggested to Mr. Rogers by an English friend, whom
he found residing in New York, and who had been here
long enough to learn that there is a difference between
the vast extent of the United States and the confined area
of England, that he had better employ a man to "pilot"
him about the country, especially in the great West; and
it chanced that, through an acquaintance of mine, to whom
Mr. Rogers's want was made known, I was hit upon as the
proper individual to consult, and Mr. Rogers and his friend
called on me, and made known his business, giving me a
good part of this story as I have detailed it. Other parts
I, of course, obtained from others, for he did not, at first,
let me into the secret of his present hatred of, and his
former love for, Edward Hague. He was here as a sort
of messenger of justice, as he would have me believe,--and
as I did for a long time believe,--making pure self-sacrifices
in the cause of right, to restore a man to his
rightful possessions, and "see justice triumph."

We soon got ready, and started off for St. Louis, I having
concluded that the best thing to be done was to hunt
up that lawyer,--Mr. Rogers's correspondent,--and to go
on to the ground, and find out the names of as many lawyers
as I could, trusting to Mr. Rogers's memory to recollect
the name if he should hear it; and we were in due time
the guests of the Planter's Hotel, and went at once to
prosecuting our inquiries. I proceeded to find the assistant
clerk of the Supreme Court,--an old man, who had,
since the territorial days of Missouri, done service as
a court clerk, and knew almost everybody of any note in
the State.

He gave us the names of all the lawyers in St. Louis, and
//477.png
.pn +1
in the adjoining counties,--Jefferson, St. Charles, Pike,
Crawford, Franklin, Warren, etc., lists of which he chanced
to have; and then named to us all the lawyers in other
parts of the State whom he had chanced to know; but Mr.
Rogers recognized none of them as his correspondent, and
after a day spent in this sort of search, we returned to our
hotel, and eventually sought our beds.

Finally, I was aroused out of a two hours' slumber by a
servant, who told me that Mr. Rogers wanted me to get
up, and come at once to his room.

"Has he a fit?" I asked, fearful that the old fellow had
got desponding over our ill success, and worked himself
into a fever, or something else.

"No; I reckon he hain't, massa," responded the darkey,
opening the largest mouth I ever saw, and displaying a
set of teeth formidable enough to frighten a man just
awakened from sleep, "for he's up, poundin' 'roun'; but I
do say, massa, his face <i>is</i> juf as red as if he'd had a fit, or
two uv 'em to th' same time, massa,--ugh! ugh!"

I pulled on my pants and coat, and proceeded to Mr.
Rogers's room.

"My good fellow," said he, "I couldn't let you sleep
any longer. That infernal name has come to my mind.
My correspondent lived in Warren County somewhere,--Pinckney,
I think is the name of his place, and I am sure
the old clerk read his name to us to-day, but I could not
recall it then."

I asked him <i>why</i> "in the name of St. George," he didn't
take his pencil and make a note of this, and let me sleep
till morning, reminding him that we could not do anything
till daylight. With English stupidity, he said he didn't
think so far as that, and didn't suppose I was asleep, as he
was not! And back to bed I went, without even thanking him
for thus disturbing me. In the morning we again repaired
to the old clerk, and found at last the name of Mr. Rogers's
correspondent. He was a very shrewd lawyer, so said
the old clerk, and I "wormed out" of him that the fellow
//478.png
.pn +1
was rather "tricky." At this time I knew nothing of Mr.
Rogers's affair with the Vermont lawyer. He was rather
ashamed of that, and I never heard a word about it till my
visit to England subsequently. It was arranged that I
go alone out to Pinckney, about twenty-five miles west, or
north-west of St. Louis, and I departed--found the lawyer;
and I would like to give his full name, for reasons
which will suggest themselves to the reader as he goes
on, but the man is still living, I hear; has since been a
member of Congress (from another State than Missouri,
however), and is believed to be a very honest, upright
man in his present neighborhood; and, perhaps, he has
properly won the esteem he enjoys. I believe in the
right and privilege of scoundrels to repent, if they are so
inclined (and here let me interpolate, that, in my opinion,
if society at large would recognize and <i>respect</i> such right
and privilege, many a villain, who now preys upon communities,
would lead a respectable life; and nine tenths of
the poor fallen women, now "hedged in" (as that piquant
and humanitary author, Miss Elizabeth Phelps, would express
it), by the unforgiving spirit of the times, and confined
to the low estate into which they are fallen, would
abandon their unhappy mode of life, and become true and
pure women again; and many of them, too, become the
very best, noblest, and greatest women of the age).

Well, I found the lawyer; and such a man I never encountered
before. Affable, "good-looking" in the general,
but with a something so devilish about him--something
indefinable--I have never met another like him, save
within the last year from this writing, when I was closeted
at the gubernatorial rooms with the governor of a certain
Southern State,--the keenest mere politician, perhaps,
now on the stage. I made my errand known at once
to the lawyer, that is, I told him that I came as the emissary
of his English correspondent, Mr. Rogers, and at the
same time handed him a short note of introduction, which
Mr. Rogers had prepared just before I started. This was
//479.png
.pn +1
a mistake; but I never suspected that I should find such
a man to deal with. As he opened the note, he turned his
back upon me, but a little too late, evidently, to hide an
expression of triumph on his face. I instantly suspected
foul play, and as instantly put myself into the mood to receive
it.

<target id='tn479'>"Ah, my friend Rogers has got as far as St. Louis, on
his scent?" said he, turning about to me. "What does he
expect?"

"The note of introduction tells you--does it not?"

"No, not exactly; Mr. Campbell" (the name I had assumed,
for the reader knows, who has followed these
pages, that I had been in St. Louis before, and there was
a good reason now why I should not appear upon the register
of the hotel by any of my old names); <target id='tn479a'>"but tell me
what sort of a man is this Mr. Rogers. I have never seen
him. I can only judge by his writing."

"Well, what do you judge by his writing?" I asked,
resolved to tell him as little as need be.

"I hardly know, in fact. Is he a pretty resolute man--man
of sanguinary temperament?"

"I am not technically acquainted with temperaments--couldn't
tell what you would call his."

"Well, describe him; is he large or small, red or black-haired;
old or young; hearty or ill?"

"You've seen a good many Englishmen in your life, I
suppose," I replied.

"O, yes, sir; a great many."

"Well, to my eye, he's pretty much like all the rest."

"That's not very definite, sir; but I suppose you don't
study these matters of temperament, etc., as much as we
lawyers do. It is a part of our business. We must know
our clients in order to serve them well."

"But, in this case, I don't see why it is necessary to
know your client at all. No matter who he is; all he
wants is to find Mr. Frederic Hague, and I have come to
you to learn where he is, with instructions from Mr. Rogers
//480.png
.pn +1
to pay you for the trouble you have been at, and for
whatever further assistance you may render him," I replied.

"Yes, yes; well--I should--should rather like to see
Mr. Rogers first," drawlingly responded he; and I felt
that I was in the hands of a practised scoundrel, as well
as a practising lawyer, and I resolved to bring matters to
a focus at once; and so I inquired, "Well, sir, what is your
bill for past services, and what will you demand for pointing
out Mr. Hague? Is he here with you?"

"No, he's not in this quarter now. I mean he lives
in another State," returned he, hurriedly; for that word
"now" had escaped his lips undesignedly.

"Well, I reckon I shall have to charge Mr. Rogers five
hundred dollars for the trouble I've been at. It has cost
a great deal of anxiety."

"Why, sir, if I understand Mr. Rogers aright, your correspondence
with him was to the extent of only a half
dozen letters at most; and you are not sure at that, it
would seem, from what he says you wrote him, that you
have found the veritable Frederic Hague. Suppose you
divide up your bill--charge some reasonable sum for the
services you have rendered, and let the rest of the five
hundred remain contingent on your presenting to Mr.
Rogers the real Mr. Hague?" said I. This seemed to
open up to him a new vision of things.

"Well, I will," said he; "give me two hundred and fifty
dollars down, and I will wait for the rest till I produce Mr.
Hague."

"Are these your best terms?"

"Yes; I must be paid for my services, and Mr. Rogers
can afford to pay, for he'll make Hague pay the bill finally,
of course."

"I will report to Mr. Rogers," said I, "and will let you
hear from me in a few days at most," I said. "Good day,
sir."

He bade me a very pleasant day, hoped I'd have a pleasant
//481.png
.pn +1
ride back to St. Louis, and that our acquaintance, "so
pleasantly inaugurated" (to use his own words), would
continue, etc., in a most fascinating way, as if he felt that
his little scheme for putting five hundred new dollars in
his pocket was already a confirmed success.

But I had no notion at all that Mr. Rogers would suffer
himself to be bled to the tune of two hundred and fifty dollars
on a decided uncertainty, and two hundred and fifty
more, too, on another uncertainty; and as that little word
"now" had not escaped my notice, I thought best to institute
some inquiries in the village about this Mr. Hague
before I left. So, returning to the little hotel, where I
stopped, I inquired about the lawyer in the place and
vicinity, and soon found out who among them was this
lawyer's greatest foe,--the thing I wished to learn; and
finding that he lived in an adjoining town, about five miles
away, I procured a horse and rode over there to consult
him. He was quite the opposite of the other in personal
appearance. Mr. John Howe (now dead, I hear with
regret, for he was one of those men who ought to live always)
was a frank, open-hearted, sturdy man, of fine intellect,
scorning to do mean things, and was, by nature,
the uncompromising foe of such men as the one I had just
left. So I found him, and the more I talked with him the
less homely he grew to my eye; for I confess he was called,
in the vernacular of that quarter, "the homeliest man, by
a heap, around these yere diggings." But he was good,
and that's "better than riches."

I told him my story. He wasn't at all surprised at the
lawyer's exactions, and told me that he doubted anybody's
being about there by the name of Hague. Said that he
had seen a man in the lawyer's office some three months
before that would answer the description I gave of Hague,
as to age, etc., but said I would find he was known by
some other name; that the lawyer had doubtless picked
him up on speculation, having probably seen one of the
advertisements, and that Hague himself was in his power,
//482.png
.pn +1
and had probably been induced to change his name. He
said the lawyer had a plantation in Arkansas, and occasionally
went down to New Orleans. So that it would not
be strange if he had encountered "Hague" somewhere,
and brought him home, and made a sort of servant of him,
while he was carrying on the correspondence. The man
he had in his office was a wreck, and in his poverty easily
controllable.

Mr. Howe agreed to make all inquiry possible into the
matter at once, and I went back to the village; and making
sundry acquaintances, I inquired after new comers,
and eventually found that there was occasionally in the
village, and sometimes with the lawyer, a fellow called
John Dinsmore, who, on a drunken occasion, two months
or so before, had boasted that he was the ward of an
English lord, and had large estates in England, and that
he was going back, by and by, with Squire ---- (the
lawyer) to get his property. This was considered a drunken
man's idle boast, and would have been forgotten but for
my inquiry. I found out what persons had been most seen
with this John,--for I was sure he was the man I wanted
to find--and left some money in my informant's hands to
encourage him in "the field of research," and instructed
him to find out in as adroit a way as he could, where John
could be found; and back I went to St. Louis, to see Mr.
Rogers. I told him of my visit to the lawyer, and its results,
without stating at first what I had subsequently done.

As I expected, Mr. Rogers was very wroth; but finally
said, he supposed he would have to pay the five hundred
dollars; he had come too far to lose his game now, he
said. Whereupon I told him I hoped we should be able
to avoid the exaction, and "take in" the lawyer--play a
sharp game on him; and told him what further I had
learned. The old man brightened up, and said he'd rather
spend two hundred pounds, in his own way, than be swindled
out of a hundred; and told me to "go ahead," and take
my own time for a while. I went back to Warren County,
//483.png
.pn +1
and got scent of my man. A boon companion of his had
told my "spy" that John had gone off to the lawyer's plantation
in Arkansas, where he was a sort of supernumerary
overseer; but where the plantation lay, nobody knew within
nearer than fifty miles; at least my man could get no
definite information. So I instructed my friend how to
act, and sent him over to the lawyer's with a statement
that a cousin of his (my friend) had got it into his head
to buy out a plantation somewhere in Arkansas; that he
had a plenty of money, and wanted a good plantation, and
would stock it well; that he was coming down from Lewis
County in a few days, and wanted him to go on "prospecting"
with him. Could the lawyer give him any idea
of where such a plantation could be found?

The bait took. The lawyer was not only ready to have
good neighbors to his plantation, but was ready to sell his
own for "a fair price." Of course this led to the naming
of the place, and the time it would take to go there. The
plantation was in the vicinity of Gascony, Jefferson County,
on the Arkansas River, as my friend reported, on his
return from the lawyer's, and I felt easy. I rode over to
see Squire Howe, and told him of the situation of things.
Meanwhile he had been active, and had learned that John
Dinsmore was the name of the man he had seen in the lawyer's,
and that he had gone to the plantation in Arkansas. So
I felt quite assured that we were on the right track. That
night I went back to the village--called next day on the
lawyer, and told him that Mr. Rogers would not pay him
over a hundred dollars to produce Mr. Hague; to which
he replied, in a very gruff and decided way,--

"He can't have him short of my first figures; no, he
shall not have him now for less than a thousand dollars."

"Well," said I, "that ends the matter. Mr. Rogers will
return to England, I think, without his man, rather than
pay you over a hundred dollars. It won't be any loss to
him, except what he has already been at, if he don't find
him; but," said I, "I guess we'll leave it this way. You
//484.png
.pn +1
may hear from him again or you may not. He will not
remain in this country over a month longer, at most."

"O, he won't go away without his man," said he, <target id='tn484'>with
a soft, oily voice; "he'll think better of it, and pay the
money, before he returns."

"Perhaps so," said I; and I bade him a pleasant good
day. We shook hands quite cordially, and I got off to
St. Louis as soon as possible, and the next day in the
afternoon found us on board the steamer "Pike, No. 9,"--a
Cincinnati and New Orleans boat, which had been run out
of line up to St. Louis, on an extra occasion,--on our way
to Napoleon, Arkansas, where we arrived duly, with no
noticeable incidents on board (save one, and that is the
key to another narrative I may write out for this work),
"always excepting," of course, "as worthy of note," the
gambling, tippling, bowie-knife exercises, and so forth, by
which steamboating on the Mississippi used, more than
in later years, to be rendered "interesting and fascinating;"
and the next day the shaky steamboat "Little Rock"
bore us on our way up the Arkansas.

We arrived safely at Gascony, and were not many hours
in finding our way to the plantation, and in the presence
of Frederic Hague, alias John Dinsmore. Mr. Rogers was
a most delighted man, when, by sundry questions, he assured
himself of the identity of the man; but he could not
be satisfied till Hague pulled off his flannel wrapper (for
he wore no shirt, poor fellow, and everybody who can
wears flannels, in that region, in summer as well as winter).
The dirty old wrapper tore into pieces in the operation;
and I dare say that Hague had not removed it before
in two months. But there was the "private mark." There
was no disputing that; and Mr. Rogers ordered, on the
evening of that day, the richest dinner ever cooked, I presume,
at a country hotel in that State. He did not forswear
wines, such as they were, and both he and Hague
put me quite to shame with the amount of liquor they
drank. But I must hasten with my story.
//485.png
.pn +1

We learned from Hague that the Missouri lawyer had
picked him up at Napoleon one day, learned something of
his history, called to mind an advertisement he had seen,
took him on to Missouri, as he was at that time on his way
home, and had a written contract with him for one half of
his estate, if he should recover it. He had kept him there
and on the plantation in Arkansas, and sometimes wrote
him, always encouragingly, about the matter of the estate.
Hague had got it into his head that that lawyer was the
only authorized person to treat with, and he was jubilant
when he found himself out of his clutches.

We were to return to St. Louis, in any event, to see after
some manufacturing matters in which Mr. Rogers had taken
some interest, and I felt, and so did Hague, that it would be
well enough to have a little fun with the lawyer. So, after
we arrived at St. Louis, I went out to Warren County to
see him again, and told him I was ready to give him the
two hundred and fifty dollars down, and two hundred and
fifty more on his producing the identical Frederic Hague,
if he would put himself under bonds of five hundred dollars,
or put the money in the hands of the village landlord,
to be paid over to me in case his Frederic Hague should,
under my cross-examination, fail to assert himself to be the
true Frederic Hague. He assented, being positively sure
of his five hundred dollars, as he thought, and I drew up
to his table and scratched off a short agreement, taking
care to word it as indicated above. He was to produce
Hague within a week and a half or two weeks, and I was
to wait there or in St. Louis.

The next day Hague came straggling along, playing
drunk, and told the lawyer a proper story; and he told
Hague his time was come--that an Englishman would be
there to see him, and take him home, to restore to him his
estate, and he wanted Hague to make some alteration in
their contract. Hague consented, but when he got the
paper in his hands he feigned crazy, had a fit, a proper
//486.png
.pn +1
one, and tore and in part ate up the contract, and felt "relieved,"
as he said afterwards.

The lawyer caused me to be sent for. Luckily, as he
thought, I had not left the village. When I reached his
office he took me aside very privately, and told me the
"bird" had dropped down upon him, all of a sudden, in a
very providential way, and that now he would show me
Mr. Hague, when I was ready to deposit, and he would do
the same. The landlord was sent for, preliminaries arranged,
and Frederic Hague called in. The lawyer questioned
him before me, and he answered all clearly, even to
having a "private mark on his shoulder," etc.

"He's your witness now," said the lawyer, triumphantly,
probably feeling the five hundred dollars itching in his
palms. And I commenced, with confidence of success, for
Hague and I had practised "our parts," and "rehearsed"
to my satisfaction.

"You say your name is 'Frederic Hague'?"

"Yes, sir."

"How do you know?"

"That's what they call me."

"Ah! well, do they call you anything else?"

"Yes, sir."

"What?"

"John Dinsmore."

"Then John Dinsmore is as much your name as Frederic
Hague?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who calls you John Dinsmore?"

"Everybody here and in Arkansas."

"Who first called you John Dinsmore?"

"Mr. ----" (the lawyer); "he gave me the name--said
that was my proper name; and I've used it ever
since."

"Who gave you the name Frederic Hague?"

"I don't know."
//487.png
.pn +1

"Were you ever in England, sir? Come, now, sir, tell
the truth, and no lying."

"Seems as though I was."

"Seems so? What makes it seem so?"

"Why, I suppose it is because Mr. ----" (the lawyer),
"has told me so so often."

"Has he told you about one Frederic Hague, a man by
the same name you sometimes have borne?"

"Yes, sir."

"A great deal?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you have come to think that you are that Frederic
Hague? Now, sir, tell me if you dare assert that you are
the veritable Frederic Hague, the heir to the estate of one
Oliver Hague, about which he has told you? Don't let us
have anything but the truth now, sir."

"No, sir; I don't say that I dare assert it."

"Did you ever have any notice that you were entitled
to any property at all in England, till Mr. ---- told you
so?"

"No, sir."

"Well, do you now think you are entitled?"

"I don't know anything about it--"

"O, the fool," here broke in the lawyer; "he's stultified,
or he's lied to me. Here, 'John,' show this man the scars
on your shoulder, and tell him the story you told me
about it."

"What story?"

"Why the story about the fall in the carriage house."

"Why, I never told you any such story--did I? I told
you I had a dream once; I suppose that is what you
mean," said John, stripping himself meanwhile.

"There!" exclaimed the lawyer, "there are unmistakable
marks; and they tell, of themselves, how they got
there--cut with hatchel teeth."

And John, alias Frederic, roared out, with a well-feigned
//488.png
.pn +1
//489.png
.pn +1
//490.png
.pn +1
laugh, "Yes, hatchel teeth, in Bill Currier's coach-dog's
mouth, down to Mobile!"

.pm illo i_488 i_488.jpg 700px "THE MISSOURI LAWYER OUTWITTED."

The lawyer looked confounded--and he put "John"
through a severe re-examination; all to no avail, except to
force John into some rather <i>bold</i> species of story-telling.

The landlord decided the case in my favor, according to
the contract between the lawyer and me, and gave me the
five hundred dollars on our return to his hotel. I got
Frederic Hague to St. Louis as soon as I could, and we
proceeded to New York. I let my friend there into the
joke by letter, and told him to make the most of the story
for a month, when I would return the lawyer all his
money, except what it had cost me--the matter of forty-five
dollars--to play the joke on him, saying that he
ought to be willing to pay for his fun; and at the end of a
month, after the story had gone far and near, how the
lawyer had set his bait to fish out an estate for a client,
and had lost five hundred dollars himself, the money was
duly returned to him through draft on a St. Louis bank;
and that was not the last I heard of him. But I cannot
stop to tell the full story here.

Mr. Frederic Hague, neatly dressed, and apparently in
excellent health, though by no means strong,--his nervous
system having been shattered by his rough western life,--and
Mr. Rogers, after a trip to Montreal and Boston,
took steamer from New York for Liverpool.

Mr. Rogers was one of the most victorious, haughty-looking
men I ever saw, as he stepped on to the steamer's
deck, with Frederic Hague by his side. Up to within one
or two of my last interviews with him, he always vaunted
himself as struggling in the cause of justice only; but at
last he allowed some remarks to escape him about Mr.
Edward Hague, and how chopfallen he would feel when
Frederic should appear on the tapis. And my curiosity
being awakened, I sounded him considerably, the rest I
learned in England afterwards.

Mr. Rogers was very liberal with me, paid me very handsomely,
//491.png
.pn +1
and treated me most hospitably when I visited him
at home. But the poor man was destined to lose his almost
won, but foolish, triumph. Four days out, Frederic, meeting
on board a couple of men whom he had known, the one
in New Orleans, and the other at Louisville, Kentucky,
he had served in the care of horses,--these men were
cousins, it appeared,--must needs tell them of his vast
estates in prospect, which he was just going over to claim.
These men were high livers, and took along their own
wines and liquors, and of these, with them, Mr. Hague
partook very liberally, got ravingly intoxicated, and howling
about the deck one night, while something of a breeze was
blowing; and the ship ploughing a little, he was toppled
over the rail, as she suddenly lurched, into the unquiet
waters. Every effort was made to save him. The steam
was shut off, the life-boats lowered, and search made for a
whole hour, without avail. The darkness was too great
to permit him to be easily found, if he had not drowned at
once.

Of course, Mr. Rogers went home a wiser, and perhaps
better man. He had, unfortunately for his pride, written
a triumphant letter home, stating that he had found the
veritable Frederic, and that he should bring him by the
next, or the second steamer thereafter, and would then
teach Edward Hague good manners. But it was difficult
to learn anything from him, I was told, after he arrived at
home.

The terms of the will were such, that the property went
to Mr. Edward Hague; and when I met him, he was living
in most comfortable style, but without any attempt at vain
show. He was satisfied with his possessions, and was not
a little amused when I told him of Mr. Rogers's personal
exertions in America "in the cause of justice and truth;"
but said he was sorry Frederic had not lived to enjoy
something of life, and that he had no doubt Frederic would
have been kind to him. In fact, I found Mr. Edward
Hague one of the most lovable of men, and I confess that
//492.png
.pn +1
I think the property in his hands was made more useful
to a larger number than it probably would have been in
Frederic's hands, for he had learned some bad habits in
America, among which was the inveterate one of gambling.

I never think of Mr. Rogers without laughing; and so,
with a laugh, I leave him now, and the fortune, and the
"private mark."
//493.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=williamroberts
WILLIAM ROBERTS AND HIS FORGERIES.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
A MAN OF THE OLDEN TYPE--HIS SAD STORY ABOUT HIS WIFE AND
HIMSELF--THEY ADOPT A BRIGHT BOY--THE WIFE'S PROPHET SPECULATIONS
ABOUT THE BOY--THE BOY GROWS UP, AND GOES TO COLLEGE--A
PLEASANT YEAR--HE LEARNS CERTAIN MYSTERIES OF LIFE--STUDENTS'
PITCHED BATTLE WITH THE FACULTY OF THE COLLEGE--OF
THE "WHITE HORSE"--A WHILE IN A LAWYER'S OFFICE--BECOMES
A MERCHANT--MAKING MONEY TOO FAST--A FATAL HOUR--THE
VORTEX OF WALL STREET--SUNDRY FORGERIES--A STRANGE
CAREER--AN IMPORTANT WITNESS LOST, AND FOUND IN THE INSANE
RETREAT, HARTFORD, CONN.--A TERRIBLE COMPLICATION OF AFFAIRS;
LAWYERS AND ALL BAFFLED--I AM CALLED IN TO WORK UP THE CASE--DIFFICULTIES
ENCOUNTERED--FATE INTERPOSES--WENTWORTH, THE
INSANE WITNESS, RECOVERS--A VAST DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BLACK
INK AND BLUE INK--DYING OF GRIEF--AN UNHAPPY HOUSEHOLD.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>I was</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
I was
.if-
sitting one day in my office, about noon, in July,
1858, with windows up, coat off, my legs sprawled upon
the table, and fanning myself for a breath of living air out
of the sweltering atmosphere. I had tried to enjoy my
position (but there was no joy for me on that day) only a
few minutes, when I heard a strong tap at the open door,
and without looking around, I called out, "Come in!" with
what I suspect was a peculiar emphasis, for presently an
old man stood before me aghast, as if he knew not what to
think.

"You are Mr. ----?"

"Yes, sir, the same."

"Mr. ----, the detective officer?"

"Yes, sir, the detective officer. But pray, sir, take a
seat," said I, seeing that the man meant business, doubtless;
and I pointed him to a seat near the window.
//494.png
.pn +1

"What can I do for you, sir?" I asked.

"That's just what I've come to see," said he.

I scanned the man. He was evidently from the country.
His manner and dress showed this; but there was something
remarkably intelligent about his well-cut, smoothly-shaven
face, which was square at the base, with those wide
cheeks, which distinguished so many of the rare men of
revolutionary days. Jefferson's face will give one a good
notion of what I mean. This style of face has gone almost
"out of fashion" in these days, only one here and there
having been transmitted by the sires of the republic. I
am always attracted to these faces, and although they denote
firmness, amounting to obstinacy sometimes, I have
never found one not belonging to a man of unquestioned
respectability and probity.

"It's a warm day, sir," said I, as he took his seat; "and
you must pardon me for my being in undress, sir; but,
really, I can't endure a coat to-day. Wouldn't you like to
pull off your own? Make yourself perfectly at home,
sir."

"O, no, sir; thank you. <i>I</i> am not warm; on the other
hand, I am cold," and the old man buttoned his coat about
him.

I was surprised, for I saw that he was evidently healthy,
and then I conjectured that his frigidity on that hot day
must proceed from intense mental suffering, and I asked
him,--

"Did you call to see me professionally?"

"Yes, sir; I have been recommended by my attorney,
Judge Hoffman, to call upon you and lay a case before you,
which he says you may possibly be able to work out; and
if <i>you</i> can't, he tells me to give up trying further. He
has exhausted his powers upon it, and my all depends upon
it," and the old man's voice discovered a slight tremor as
he uttered the last words, and excited my interest intensely.

"Tell me your story in detail, leaving out nothing that
//495.png
.pn +1
you can remember, however trivial, and I will listen patiently;
take your time."

The old gentleman, taking me at my word, and beginning
with a "You must know," recited his own early history,
which had no bearing on the case in issue, as I soon saw;
but I let him go on; so much had his real trouble weighed
upon his mind that he seemed to think the line which led
to it ran through his whole life.

He was a farmer and a country merchant, who had, at
the age of twenty-two, succeeded to the estate of his father,
who was also a farmer and a merchant; that is, he "kept
store" in a respectable country farming town, and "carried
on farming" besides, with the aid of "hired men," whom
he supervised. He was a man--that is, my visitor--of
more than ordinary information, probably a great reader,
and at one time the leading "Whig" of his place--the
village oracle, in fact, at whose "store" the country people
gathered of nights to hear him talk politics, and doubtless
to debate among themselves the issues of those days when
Clay was the idol of the great, respectable Whig party of
the land. The old man was able to narrate a story with
great fidelity, and showed a mind well disciplined. I had
but few questions to ask him, as he went on in his narrative,
and when he had concluded, I had already conceived
a theory of the case, which in due time I proceeded to
verify in practice.

He was then seventy-eight years old, he said; was married
at thirty-four, his wife still living. They had had one
child, a son, born in his father's thirty-seventh year, but
who died at the age of four years, just when he had begun
to be most interesting, the delight, of course, of his
parents. The old man descanted, in pathetic terms, upon
his desolation over the loss of that dear child, and said it
came near bringing his mother to her grave; that she had
never since been the same woman as before; that she never
laughed aloud now, as she used to when they were first
married, being then a woman of very jocular habits, and
//496.png
.pn +1
full of boisterous fun. "Since then," said he, "she has
only faintly smiled, now and then, over something which
pleased her fancy or met her hearty approval. No ordinary
occurrence can bring a smile or a tear to her eye. But
she is a dear, dear woman; and now that a great grief is
upon us, I suffer more for her sake than my own."

The old man's voice grew husky as he proceeded, and I
confess that, accustomed though I was to tales of horror,
and feeling always that nothing of a wretched nature could
ever surprise or move me to deep emotions, I felt for him
nevertheless, and entered into the spirit of his soul before
I knew what were its griefs.

The old gentleman continued his tale.

"For some years after the death of our child my wife
was disconsolate beyond my power to give her any relief.
She used to keep to the house constantly; never went
abroad among the neighbors, but treated them all kindly
when they called at the house, and with no diversion except
her household duties, led almost a hermit's life, avoiding
seeing whomsoever she decently could. I fitted up a
little private room for her, and beguiling her time with
reading and with her devotions she spent most of her days.
I sought every means to comfort her; called children to
the house to play. She was very fond of children, and
would chat and chaffer with them to make them happy, as
if she too enjoyed it; but there was always a sadness
mingled with her smiles upon them even. But I must not
stop to tell you too much of this. And now, sir, in our
old age has come a grief which weighs her down as did
the loss of our blessed, only child.

"I must tell you that, after years had passed, I finally
induced my wife to consent to my adopting a bright boy--a
cheerful, handsome lad of eight years of age, whose
father was a good, honest laborer on my farm, but had been
killed some months before by the falling upon him of a tree
which he had cut. He having lost his life in my employ,
I felt a particular interest in his family, and having aided
//497.png
.pn +1
the mother to get situations for her five other children,
had defrayed her expenses back (with an infant in arms)
to her native place in Rhode Island, according to her
desire, and took the boy, of whom I spoke, to bring up,
educate, and establish in business.

"At first my wife, though she admired the boy's beauty
and his manners, which were very gentle, did not open all
her heart to him, and had misgivings that in her state of
mind she should be able to do by the boy as she ought.
And one day, after he had been with us a few weeks, she
said to me, 'What if William should not grow up a good
man? Sometimes I feel, I know not why, that he will not.
He is very "deep," and if his talents, as he grows up, should
chance to take a wrong course, he might be a very bad
man, and it would break my heart to think that we had
brought him up in the place of our angel who is in
heaven,' and she burst into tears, and I consoled her; but,
sir, the terrible day which she seemed to then anticipate,
has come, and her heart <i>is</i> broken indeed.

"I know, sir, you must lose your patience to hear me
talk of these things, but though I am old in years in comparison
with you, yet it is not years that makes me so weak
to-day. I feel as if I were a hundred years old, and you
must pardon my imbecilities."

I assured the old man that I was far from being impatient
with his story, for I knew full well that he could never
make me an intelligent narrative of the facts I should need
to know, if his business proved of real importance, until
he had delivered his mind of these special burdens; and
so I waited patiently to the end of his story, which it
took far more time to reach than I can afford in this
narrative.

The young, adopted lad, William, it seems, enjoyed all
the advantages of the village school, and of the preparatory
academy in the shire town of the county in which the old
man resided, and whither, at a distance of some twelve
miles from his own home, the old man (taking his wife
//498.png
.pn +1
often) visited the lad at least once a week, and sometimes
twice, especially if by any means the old gentleman
could contrive to have a "business" excuse for going there,
during the boy's whole course at the preparatory school,
so great was his affection for him; and, finally, being well
prepared, and giving high promise of becoming a great
scholar, and a great man, the lad, or now well-grown young
man, was sent off to college. During his first collegiate
year he bore himself faultlessly, and achieved a high position
in his class, in some branches of study being at the
head. The old gentleman said that his own pride was never
so flattered in all his life as when the boy came home at the
end of the year and all the village was talking of the
honors he had won. He said he felt a relief then, as if he
had a staff well grown, and to grow still stronger and
stronger in the coming years, upon which to lean in his
own declining years--a young counsellor, whose judgment
already good, would grow better and better.

The boy had always been good, courteous, and obliging
to the old man and his wife; but now, at the end of his first
collegiate year, he seemed to have grown still better, if
possible. Vacation being passed in perfect happiness for
that household, the old gentleman accompanied William
back to college, the wife bidding them God-speed on their
journey, with copious tears flooding her face. "Come back,
William, just as good a boy as you now are, and I will try
to be better to you than I have ever been," said she; and
William bade her dry her tears (while his own blinded his
eyes), told her that she had always been more than a mother
to him, and assured her that he thought of her and his
happy home a hundred times a day, and could not, he
hoped, but grow better himself every time he thought
of home.

"We thought," said the old man, "then, that that was the
happiest day of our lives; and when I returned home, after
seeing William back again in the college, we talked over,
day after day, the happiness of the parting hour, and every
//499.png
.pn +1
letter we got from William, who always wrote once a week
at least, prompted us to remember that 'holy day,' as we
called it, and we talked it over and over.

"But the next collegiate year brought William home, with
a different report about him. He was still forward in his
classes, but during the winter term had begun to grow a
little wild; had attended a dancing-school privately, against
the rules of the college, and had begun to feel himself
'man enough to control his own conduct,' etc. Indeed, on
account of the expression of a great degree of obstinacy
and self-will, with not a little defiance of the professors
on a certain occasion, when they had thought best to
gently hint a sort of reproval of some act of his, William
had come near being 'suspended,' as the phrase is, for a
while; that is, dismissed from the college for a season, to
return on conditions. But he was not suspended finally,
and had come home still a member of the college. But he
had had a taste of certain liberties, had learned to look
upon some things, such as 'card-playing for fun,' and
which he had been used to look upon with horror, as a foolish,
sinful way of spending time, as not, after all, so very
bad. But I need not recite these things; for his career
was from the good, gently at first, and by slow steps to
the bad--much like that of everybody else who has followed
the like path. William did not finish his junior
years, finding it convenient to withdraw from the college
during the spring term (as he was, by the grace of the
faculty, permitted to do, instead of being expelled, in
consideration of the entreaties of his adopted father, the
good old man, who had been sent for to confer with the
faculty). William had been engaged, with a score of other
students, in some mischief, which, though not seriously bad
at first, led to a terrible fight between these students and
the authorities of the college-town, or city, rather, in
which William had drawn a pistol, and attempted to make
use of it (as he always claimed, however, in strict defence
of his life), against some of the opposing party. But the
//500.png
.pn +1
pistol, being fortunately snatched from his hands, no blood
was shed. William would not acknowledge to the faculty
that he had been wrong in drawing his pistol with the
purpose of making bloody use of it, but, on the other hand,
insisted that, under like circumstances, he would do the
same again, in self-defence, as he claimed. The faculty
would not yield, and permitted him, in conclusion, to
withdraw. And William went home, a somewhat altered
young man, but beloved by all the villagers about him,
some of whom, however, sometimes said, there was 'a great
deal of the "wild-horse" in him which has got to come out
in some way, some time;' but they little thought what lay
in the line of William's career."

Having thus left college, the question arose, what William
should do, what profession or business he should
pursue? First, he was inclined to take up the study of
the law, and entered the office of Mr. Mills, the only lawyer
of the village; but Mr. Mills was far from being a
profound or scholarly man, had but a meagre practice, and,
on the whole, William, who had read over Blackstone,
Chitty's Contracts, and some other works whose names the
old man had forgot, and of which I know as little, came to
the conclusion, that though he liked to read law, he should
not like to practise it, and that course was abandoned;
and William, thinking he would become a business man,
entered the old man's little store. After a while he was
intrusted to go to the city and make the little periodical
replenishing purchases, and developed great taste and
sagacity in his purchases. In fact, he had rare talents as
a merchant, and it was not long before a place was found
for him in New York, with a then ruling firm, where he
speedily advanced, so as to be offered an interest in the
concern. He had managed to lay up a little money for
himself, but the old gentleman furnished him ten thousand
dollars more,--a large sum, it was then thought,--the
villagers thinking that the old gentleman was almost
wild to part with that sum, which would then have bought
//501.png
.pn +1
two or three good farms in the vicinity of the village.
Thus provided, William went into the partnership, and his
business went on flourishing till, at the end of five years,
he became the second member in importance in the concern;
and though not married, had built a very fine summer
residence in the outskirts of the old village, and filled
and surrounded it with every comfort.

"I fear William Roberts is living too fast," some old
villager would say. "He'll make money easy and spend
it as easy. Easy comes, easy goes, you know."

"O, no, he won't. He knows the value of money,"
another would say. "The old man's taught him that. He
knows how to hold on to a dollar."

"You see," said the old man, with a curious look in his
eye, as he related what he used to hear (and sometimes
overhear), that his neighbors said, "that they always
thought me, up there, a little <i>too</i> economical."

But William Roberts had made money too fast, as the
sequel showed; he lived too high, contracted expensive
habits, and, eventually, it got to be rumored that he indulged
sometimes "in cards for fun;" but now the "fun"
meant, the excitement of gambling for money. His business
house knew nothing of this, and were unsuspicious
of it for a long while, though William made large drafts
upon it; but these not being more than he was entitled to,
nothing was said about it. But finally he insisted on drawing
at one time--when the house really needed the money
to help carry on its business--the sum of five thousand
dollars, and was rather curt and severe upon his partners
on their remonstrating; and they began to look about them,
and came to learn of Mr. Roberts's gambling habits; and,
fearful of him, arranged, after a long while, to buy him
out, accepting his figures on demand. This was the most
fatal hour in his life.

With some fifty thousand dollars, cash in hand, Mr.
Roberts could not control himself, and, with the spirit of
gambling upon him, rushed deeper into dissipation--more
//502.png
.pn +1
deeply than ever. Together with his gambling pursuits
at night, Mr. Roberts went into Wall Street by day, drawn
there by the allurements of certain acquaintances, who
presented to him visions of stupendous wealth to be early
won. Mr. Roberts was, withal, a self-reliant man, and believed
he could take his part among the bold and fiery
contestants of the street; and went into that vortex, where
so many brave souls have been wrecked, with greatest
confidence, only to find himself, at the end of six months,
penniless and poor, save in the country residence, which
has been before alluded to. He applied to his adopted
father now; told him the whole story; and evidently penitent
over his wanderings and rashness, was again aided
into business in a comparatively small way. But his talents
were good, and for a while he pursued a line of success.
But the old gambling mania came over him again,
and he fell; and this time deeper than before.

In his extremity, he had forged certain drafts on the
bank in which his firm did business, intending to keep all
dark, and make these good in time. Though they were
not large, he found he could not meet them at the proper
time by the fitting deposits without further steps in crime.
So he resorted to the country bank, in which his adopted
father kept his funds, with drafts in the name of his father,
from time to time, which were borrowed and paid; but
these came so frequently as to excite the suspicions of the
president of the bank, that Mr. Roberts was getting an
undue influence over my client, his father; and so one day
meeting the old gentleman (whose real name I have no
right to disclose, but whom we will call Mr. Brown, for
convenience), the president said,--

"Mr. Brown, Mr. Roberts seems to have occasion to use
a great deal of money."

"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Brown, "he is doing a fine, large
business since he's got on his feet again, after his 'failure'"
(for it was by the modest word 'failure' that Mr. Brown
//503.png
.pn +1
always referred to the disastrous career of Roberts among
his country friends).

The president, believing from Mr. Brown's reply that all
was correct with Roberts, since he, if anybody, must know
all about his business, he thought, said no more, and moved
on. However, something suggested to him, when Roberts
came to present the next check, to make matters more
satisfactory to the bank, and to avoid any complaint on the
part of Mr. Brown, against whom the debit side of his account
was getting fearfully large, that when the day of
settlement should come, he, Roberts, should obtain Mr.
Brown's power of attorney to draw when and in what
amounts he should like.

The president, on future reflection, thought Roberts acted
a little "nervous" over this suggestion; but Roberts's
ready acceptance of the advice caused him to forget it
on the instant, and he had no suspicion whatever that Mr.
Brown's name was counterfeited on the checks. In proper
time Roberts appeared with a power of attorney, duly
made, and purporting to be Mr. Brown's, which was securely
lodged in the bank.

By and by Mr. Brown, who used his bank mostly as one
of deposit, being then retired from business, and having
money enough for his current wants accruing from the
rent of some two or three farms, and his store-house, and
interest on money lent to surrounding farmers, and having
no business occasion to often visit the bank, going one
time to the shire town on business, thought he would make
a friendly call at the bank for a moment on his friend the
president.

On his calling, the usual hand-shaking and salutations
took place, and were followed by the usual gossip about
a little of everything and nothing; and Mr. Brown, who
had been invited to a seat in the directors' room, rose to
retire, bidding the president good day. As he was passing
out, he spoke jocularly to the president,--

"The banks' breaking, I suppose, does not disturb <i>you</i>?
//504.png
.pn +1
Bank's sound, I take it. You've got my deposits all safe
as the rest, I dare say, eh?" with a little chuckle, as if he
thought he had expended a little salutary wit.

"Yes, perfectly safe, what there's left of 'em. Can't tell
you exactly, without looking, how the account stands; but
some balance yet to your credit."

Brown thought the president was joking, laughed a little,
and went out. He had not gone far on his way, however,
when, recalling the president's manner when speaking, he
began to think he wasn't joking. But Mr. Brown drove
on and on. At last he got to be uneasy, and determined
to go back to ask the president what he meant by that
word "balance." The president was surprised by the
query, and answered,--

"Why, I mean that Roberts has not yet drawn out all
your funds on that power of attorney."

"Power of attorney? What do you mean?"

The president was confounded. He saw that old Mr.
Brown was either forgetful, or that there was some wrong
somewhere. He caused the cashier to look up Mr. Brown's
account, and draw the balance, and presented the same to
Mr. Brown; who, in turn, was confounded, said he had
given Roberts no drafts, or any power of attorney. The
latter was produced. Mr. Brown could not believe his own
eyes. So perfectly like his own signature was that of the
power of attorney, that he clasped his hand to his head,
and after deep thought for a few moments, said to the
president,--

"Well, I would not believe it. It seems like a dream
to me. I cannot remember when I signed that power of
attorney; but I must have done it in some hour of weakness
for there's John Wentworth's name to it as witness,
and I know his handwriting well. He has borrowed money
of me often, and given his notes. But, see here, if my
name is forged, so may John's be. I don't know anything
about this power of attorney."

The checks drawn before the power of attorney was
//505.png
.pn +1
presented by Roberts to the bank were new to Mr.
Brown. He was surprised by his exact signature to these,
and the filling out of some of them as well, in his own
handwriting apparently. But sure he could not remember
ever giving one of them.

"Do you think," said the bank president, who understood
the situation of things if these should all prove
forgeries, and wishing to save the bank from loss,--"do
you think sometimes, Mr. Brown, that your memory fails
you at all as you grow older?"

"O, yes," said the honest old man, "I do. I find I
forget a good many things. Well, well; have I come to
this?"

What occurred thereafter, would be wearisome to recite
in detail. Suffice it that search was made for Wentworth,
the witness, by both Mr. Brown and the bank; but he was
not to be found immediately. His signature was shown to
several persons who knew his handwriting, and all declared
it his. Roberts, in some way, got wind of the old man's
having visited the bank, and he, too, was not to be found,
and so matters stood for a while.

At last it was found out that Wentworth, who had a
pretty good farm, which he worked only a part of the year,
and occupied himself as a pedler, with a wagon, through
quite a large circuit of country the rest of the time, had
been taken to the Insane Retreat, at Hartford, Conn. His
"team" having been run into and capsized one night on the
road by another "team" furiously driven by some drunken
men, Wentworth being violently thrown against a
large rock, head foremost, and receiving such injuries as
quite severely damaged his mind. He, therefore, could
not be "improved" to determine whether his signature
was veritable or not.

Mr. Brown had, meanwhile, persuaded himself that the
"power of attorney" was a forgery; that he had <i>not</i> suffered
any such mental weakness at any time as would
have allowed him to give such an instrument to Roberts.
//506.png
.pn +1
In fact, he knew that it was a forgery. Great though
his grief was over the heartless conduct of Roberts, Mr.
Brown could not make up his mind to tell his wife the
facts. She noticed his sorrow, which he, upon her frequent
inquiry, attributed to bodily ills, and time went on.
Eventually Mr. Brown made up his mind that perhaps he
ought to be willing to bear a part of the loss; and after
consulting his lawyer about it, went to the bank, and generously
offered to compromise; to lose half his deposit, if
the bank would pay him the other half, or sixteen thousand
five hundred dollars. But the directors seeing the
advantage they had of him, refused to entertain his offer
for a moment, affecting to believe the drafts and power of
attorney genuine.

At last Mr. Brown broke the matter to his wife. She
was struck with horror; but in the end counselled him to
let it all go, inasmuch as they had enough left to "scrub
along on the rest of their lives," as she expressed it, with
economy. But the manner of his old friend, the president,
when announcing to him the course taken by the directors,
had greatly piqued Mr. Brown, and he was determined
to have all his money at last. The great legal difficulties
in the way were, however, insurmountable in the
opinion of his attorney, who had exhausted his own resources
in trying to get the proper testimony to set aside
the power of attorney, and finally Mr. Brown had applied
to me.

I had heard his long story with greatest patience, seeing
nothing tangible up to this point to take hold of. Wentworth
might not recover in years, if ever; Roberts was
out of the way, and would, perhaps, never be found. All
his neighbors would identify Mr. Brown's signatures as
veritable, and he himself had admitted to the bank president,
on the day of the disclosure of his claimed indebtedness,
that he found himself frequently forgetful; and had
half admitted that he might have been led to sign the
power of attorney in some hour of weakness. The case
//507.png
.pn +1
was desperate. I pondered it over a while, and finally
asked Mr. Brown if he could give me the <i>date</i> of the power
of attorney. He could not. I asked him then to go to the
bank with some friend, and ask to see it, and note the date;
telling him that this was the first essential thing for me to
know. Before Mr. B. left my office, I had planned a course
of operations, all of which I did not develop to him, however.
In the course of a few days Mr. Brown sent me
a letter, saying that the date of the instrument was the
26th of June, 185-. I turned to my diary for that year,
and found where I was on that day,--at Coney Island, with
quite a large party, who went down on the excursion
steamer Belle, early in the day, and were gone all day;
and, as I knew Roberts very well by sight, I was sure
that I remembered his being there that day. Light began
to gather in my mind. Perhaps Mr. Brown, too, could remember
where he was that day; and I sent for him, told
him what I wanted to know; and he was sure, on reflection
(as was afterwards found certain), that he was visiting,
during a week which covered the 26th of June, with his
wife, some old friends at Danbury, Connecticut. So much
being learned, I lost no time in hunting up parties who
were at Coney Island that day, and established the fact,
beyond doubt, that Roberts was there.

Next I turned my attention to Wentworth's case, and
found that he was at Philadelphia that day, and the day before,
making some purchases; and also found a letter from
him to a brother, dated at Pittsburgh, Pa., on the 29th of
June, in which we found a statement to the effect that he
had left home on the 24th of June; had been in Philadelphia
for a day or two; had gone from there to Pittsburgh, and
should be "back about the 4th of July." We also found
a man who had come on from Pittsburgh to New York
with Wentworth on the 3d of July, and who had met him
there several times a day, and for several days before.
Armed with these facts, we went to the bank, and presented
//508.png
.pn +1
our evidence frankly, and were surprised at the officers'
then refusing to pay over the money.

Suit was brought by Mr. Brown for the recovery of his
money, and the bank undertook to keep it in court, thinking
to weary out old Mr. Brown, and effect a compromise,
perhaps.

But the old man grew more vigorous and confident as
court after court sat, and the case was put over upon
one pretence or another. But this, after all, was no disparagement
to Mr. Brown's cause, for, before he could
force the suit on to trial, Wentworth recovered his mind
and health; and being apprised of what was going on,
declared that he had not seen Roberts for several months
before the 26th of June, and had not seen him since; and
knew that he had never witnessed such an instrument for
Mr. Brown. Wentworth also kept an accurate business
diary, which covered all the time, and corroborated the
testimony that we had secured of his being on that day,
and before and after, in Pittsburgh, etc. Wentworth accompanied
Mr. Brown and his attorney to the bank to see
the power of attorney, and they were informed that it
was at their attorney's; but the officers would give no
order that he might see it. But Mr. Brown's attorney,
conceiving that the bank's attorney would not refuse him
a professional courtesy, took Mr. Brown and Wentworth
to his brother lawyer's office, and they were at once shown
the document. Looking at it for a moment in astonishment,
Wentworth exclaimed,--

"No; that signature is not mine. The 'e' in the name
ain't just as I make it; besides, I haven't signed my name,
or written a letter, or made an entry in black ink, in
many years (the signature was in black). I always use
blue."

"But," interposed the bank's attorney, "you may not
have had blue ink at hand when you witnessed that instrument."

"I tell you," said Wentworth, in a manner which could
//509.png
.pn +1
not be mistaken for its firm honesty, "I never witnessed
that instrument. I never can use anybody's else pen,
and I always go prepared," said he, taking out from his
side coat pocket an old, long, portable inkstand, with a
pen held in its leathern case. "There, I've carried that,
now, for over eight years, and I have never written a
word from any other inkstand, with any other pen but my
own, or any kind of ink but blue, in all that time."

His manner convinced the lawyer of the bank that it
was of no use to go to trial with such testimony against the
bank, and he very frankly said so; and that he should
advise immediate settlement, which he did; and old Mr.
Brown recovered his whole <target id='tn509'>deposit, with interest from
the time he brought suit, and with sundry "costs."

But both he and Mrs. Brown declared that they felt no
better after the recovery of the money, for, after the
struggle to obtain it was passed, and the excitement was
over, the heartless conduct of Roberts seemed to oppress
them only the more, and Mr. Brown, after a year or two,
pined away and died. Mrs. Brown is still living at this
writing, an unhappy woman, when I last saw her.

As for Roberts, it is believed that he is leading a miserable
life in the mining districts of California, under the
name of William Simpson; but this is a conjecture, founded
on testimony hardly sufficient to be relied on.

Thus were wrecked Roberts's bright hopes, and the happiness
of his faithful old adopted parents. Playing cards
"for fun," at first, not unfrequently leads to disastrous,
deplorable, ends--to unalterable wretchedness.
//510.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=oldmr
OLD MR. ALVORD'S LAST WILL.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
THE DESTRUCTIVE GREED OF GAIN--A WEIRD, WONDROUS TALE--"WHAT
IF THEY BUT KNEW"--TELLING STORIES AWAY FROM HOME--REVELATIONS--AN
OLD MAN OF THE HIGH MORAL TYPE--CURIOUS NOTION
ABOUT THE SIZE OF A FAMILY; THE MYSTIC NUMBER THREE--PORTRAITS
OF A FAMILY; A PERFECT WOMAN--DEATHS AND INTRIGUES--A
"FAITHFUL SERVANT"--OLD WILLS AND NEW--LEGAL COMPLICATIONS--THE
LAST WILL MISSING--A CRAFTY LAWYER--A THOROUGH
SEARCH--A DIABOLICAL COURTSHIP, AND FIERCE STRUGGLE DURING
THREE YEARS--A DETECTIVE AT LAST CALLED INTO THE MATTER--A
PLOT LAID TO FOIL OLD BOYD, AN UNSCRUPULOUS LAWYER--DID IT
SUCCEED?--THE READER PERMITTED TO ANSWER THE QUESTION FOR
HIMSELF--A VITAL DISCOVERY--MORE PLOTTING--A BEAUTIFUL
YOUNG LADY MAKES A DIVERSION IN THE PLANS--OLD ANDREW WILCOX'S
FUNNY LETTERS SEARCHED, AND A TREASURE "FOUND" AMONG
THEM--OLD BOYD'S CONSTERNATION--THE LAST WILL FINALLY CARRIED
OUT--"NOTHING IMPOSSIBLE"--A FORTUNE TOO LARGE TO BE
LAUGHED AT--A CUNNING WIFE LEADS HER SIMPLE HUSBAND A CURIOUS
LIFE--A BIT OF COMFORT, PERHAPS.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2
.if h
<sc><b>That</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
That
.if-
"the love of money is the root of all evil," hardly
needed for its proper declaration a divine voice. The
records of man's life and struggles in all ages, in peace
and in war, through the fictitious "honesties" of business
enterprises, or in the eccentric ways called crimes, declare
most emphatically that the "great good" <i>is</i> "goods" or
their equivalent in the "representatives of value" which
we call money, in almost everybody's heart; and the sickening
details of the struggles for it, with which the detective
becomes familiar, are so multiplied, that one might
almost write the history of current times, as well as of
that of the past, in one phrase--"Money-getting!" "money-getting!"
And the modes by which money is sought are
almost as multiplied as the persons seeking.
//511.png
.pn +1

The fierce quarrels between members of the same family,--an
instance of which I have marked in my memorandum,
to be presented in these pages if space permits,--and
the devilish "greed of gain" which pursues a father,
perhaps on his dying bed, and disturbs his last hour
through the contentions of his loving children, quarrelling
there, may be, with a step-mother, or somebody else equally
"loved" by them, over the "goods and chattels" which the
expiring man is expected to leave behind, have furnished
matter for the satirist in all times; and most fit subjects
are these for the satirist's and reformer's pen. They cannot
be held up to too great execration.

The story which I am about to relate might, in its interesting
details and phases, be readily made to fill a duodecimo
volume of several hundred pages instead of the
short article into which it is compressed, so peculiar were
the characters, and so beautiful as well as painful the
varied life of the chief person whom it regards. I find
myself lingering over it, as now I turn over my diary and
note-books, and recall it so vividly to mind, with the wish
that I might, and with a half-formed resolve that I <i>will</i> at
some time, put it in the form of an extended narrative, so
thorough a portrayal of human nature in some of its best
as well as worst aspects, would it prove.

I am frequently vexed that I may not use the actual
names of the individuals who figure in these tales. How
many a neighborhood, or how large an acquaintanceship
with this or that character would be astonished, if they but
knew as they read that the subjects of this or some other
articles are still beings lingering in the flesh, and residing,
perhaps, next door!

I was telling a story one night in a stage-coach which
was full of passengers. I was more than two hundred
miles away from my own home, and over eight hundred
from the place of the chief scene in my story. The passengers
had, most of them, been favoring each other with
"yarns," of more or less truthfulness, but usually untrue,
//512.png
.pn +1
in some respects, to the actual experiences of life, and my
turn came then. I chanced to call to mind an experience
of mine more than ten years before. My story, I fancy,
was of a more interesting kind than my fellow-travellers
were wont to hear, for there was the profoundest silence
on their part. As now and then the clouds which threatened
a rain broke away, and revealed the moon, I noticed
that an old man, sitting opposite me on the back seat, was
all ears, all intent.

To make my story comprehensible in some parts, I had,
in the early portion of it, entered into a minute personal,
rather, physical description of the chief character of it, and
a bad one. It proved that the old gentleman recognized
the very man, though he himself, when at home, lived
some fifty miles from him, and it further proved that what
that tale revealed led on to a course of affairs in which
several families were more or less involved, to their displeasure.

When we alighted, the old man took me aside, and whispered
in my ear, "That was a fearful story you told us,
but I knew it was all true, because I know the man that
you called 'Jones.' His name is ----, and he resides in
----, and I am greatly obliged to you for unearthing one
of his villanies. I can see now <i>how</i> he has accomplished
others just as bad."

I tried to laugh the old man out of his notion, but he
said it was of no use, that he knew Mr. ---- only too well.
I have ever since observed a greater care in my general
descriptions, and never forget that distance of space or
time may be no surety of secrecy.

In the town of ----, in the State of New York, for fifty
years before the time I was called to take part in the affair
which is the chief part of the subject-matter of this, there
had lived a quaint old man of wealth, whom his neighbors
but little understood. He had had, in the course of his
life, three wives, two of whom had borne him children, none
of which lived but a few years, and the third had died
//513.png
.pn +1
childless. But the old man, in his grief over the want of
"natural heirs of his own body," had adopted several children,
one after the other, whenever he lost one of his, "to
keep the number good," as he said. The old gentleman,
whom we will call James Alvord, was born in Vermont,
reared in the strictest Puritan ways, and was bred to work.
At about sixteen years of age, I believe, he was apprenticed
to learn the harness-maker's trade, from which time
he left off going to school; but he was of studious disposition,
and I was told (for I never saw him myself) that he
had aggregated to himself a large amount of information
upon almost all subjects, and that had he been an aspirant
for public honors and distinctions, his fund of knowledge
would have enabled him to cope successfully with almost
any man in the State. But he had no vain aspirations.
To accumulate knowledge and money was his chief desire,
not to make display with either, but simply to enjoy the
consciousness of having,--possessing, it would seem.

The old man had not far wandered from the moral notions
and feelings which were inculcated or aroused in
him by his Vermont education, but he entertained some
peculiar notions of his own. In fact, he was all his own--all
character, all strong individuality in everything.

Among his notions--perhaps I should call them his
fixed opinions--was, that it was every married couples'
duty, if possible, to bring into the world six children, and
if they could not have them themselves, to adopt as many
from families that had more; for in his early days, when
he first imbibed this notion, it was no rare thing for families
in Vermont to count around the hearthstone ten and
twelve children apiece. Six is the product of two multiplied
by three. Three, of course, comprehends a "trinity,"
and upon the mystic trinity, so frequently discovered
in Nature, the old man built many theories. Three was a
mystic number with him.

"There are but three primitive colors," he used to say.
"All other colors are the results of the intermixture of
//514.png
.pn +1
two or all of these," and so on, the old gentleman was accustomed
to elucidate his "philosophy;" and somehow he
had so applied the mystic three to the matter of parentage,
that he had arrived at the doctrine noticed above, and he
was a man who most strictly observed himself what he
was pleased to teach others as a duty; and so, from time
to time, in the lack of children who continued to live, he
adopted others. He did not seem, however, in his "adoptions"
to have observed much "philosophy" (the word
that was most often upon his tongue, and which, in fact,
did signify not a little of the character it intimates, in his
brain) in selecting the children.

He overlooked the matter of stock and blood, and seemed
only anxious to make sure of healthy children; which is
not so much to be wondered at in his case, perhaps. So
that when these six grew up to maturity they developed
characters about as diverse as could possibly be found,
notwithstanding the course of their education, or rather
teachings (mental and moral) had been about the same.

Some of them gave the old man much uneasiness; and
notwithstanding that he had placed each in business when
he had arrived at age, or had given the girls each of them
a good outfit on her marriage, yet some of them were discontented,
and thought the old man ought to have the
grace to die in good season, in order that they might obtain
their expected shares of property; for it was presumed
by them that Mr. Alvord would treat them all alike, and
leave no will in fact. I should not forget to say here, that
there were of these children three males and three females.
Mr. Alvord had first adopted a boy, next a girl, and so on,
alternating.

Time went on, and the three boys had grown to manhood,
and married, and two of the girls had filled out into
mature womanhood in good time, and had married. Mr.
Alvord, as I have said before, had been generous to them
all, and impartial in the bestowal of his pecuniary favors;
but it would have been impossible, under the circumstances,
//515.png
.pn +1
to have been equally respectful of them all in his heart,
so diverse were they in character. The oldest boy grew
up to be a very respectful, but sluggish and somewhat
stupid man.

The second one became a tricky, crafty fellow, full of
cunning wiles, and was what the world calls a "smart
man"--ignorant of everything but business, and more
willing to succeed at that through scheming and dishonorable
practices (safely dishonorable, I mean, for he was too
"smart" to do anything in which he was likely to be
trapped; but dishonorable, still, in the strict interpretation
of that word; only dishonorable so far as the laws of
business would allow him to be--which is latitude enough
for most wickedly-inclined men). He left the farm, for
which Mr. Alvord tried to induce him to cultivate a love,
and had gone into merchandizing on a moderate scale, a
year or two after his marriage, and it was said at once of
him that he could drive "as sharp a bargain as the best
of them;" a phrase in which "worst" is substituted for
"best" in the experienced hearer's mind.

His name was a peculiar one--"Floramond;" a name
which his mother had selected from an old novel, which
she read while bearing him, and which she made Mr.
Alvord agree to not change when he adopted him. "Flor"
was his nickname, which he always bore in manhood as
well as in childhood, and it became a name in his neighborhood
at last, which was a synonym of craft and business
meanness. "That's Flor all over," was said when
anybody, no matter who, was found guilty of some extortion,
or cheating, or grasping meanness.

While Mr. Alvord lived, Floramond took better care of
his reputation than afterwards. He was ever very attentive
to Mr. Alvord, and never lost an opportunity of demonstrating
to him his industry and attention to business,
which were, indeed, very pleasing to Mr. Alvord, who,
though he sometimes wished Floramond could not be quite
so sharp and grasping, nevertheless knew the world well
//516.png
.pn +1
enough to know that most other men in business were like
him to the extent of their ability; and so soothed himself
into the belief that Floramond was "as good as they'll average."
Besides, Floramond was a bit of a wag,--could
tell a story well, made a good many hits at people, which
pleased the majority,--and, withal, was a member of the
Congregational church in his place of residence, and "in
good and regular standing."

Mr. Alvord did not care for this last fact much. He was
not a church-member, and lived and died a very good old
man, without the church. But he reflected that the church-membership
did not hurt Floramond in the people's eyes,
even if it did him no especial good; and I suspect it operated
to blind the old gentleman's eyes a little to Floramond's
real character.

The third son took a literary turn, after he had made
considerable progress in some mechanical pursuit,--I
forget what,--and was sent to college, and at last graduated
as a minister of the Dutch Reform order, I believe.
He had no business capacity, and on a fair salary could
never exactly make ends meet from year to year, and
was considerable of a pensioner on the old gentleman's
bounty.

The girls married pretty well, all of them. Of these,
one was a shrewd witch, almost as keen as Floramond.
Her name was Eliza, but she always bore the nickname
"Lise," which would not always have been <i>mal apropos</i>
if it had been spelled "Lies;" for she had great skill in
dissimulation and its kindred arts, even to the matter of
pilfering, so the neighbors generally believed. But she
had wit, and was quite handsome withal, and got a good,
thorough-going business man for a husband. The second
"daughter" in order proved a very nice, good-hearted
woman, with moderate abilities, and the kindest of dispositions;
and she, too, married a very worthy man.

The third "daughter" was one of those curious, undefinable
creatures, perfect in almost every respect, and
//517.png
.pn +1
gifted in several directions. Mr. Alvord had adopted her
in her tenth year, and had selected her in preference to
any of several other children whose parents were anxious
to "get the old man to 'dopt the gals," because she was
so robust, so stoutly formed, and withal so hardy and
agile. He thought she would surely make a large, queenly
woman. But she changed greatly as she approached the
age of puberty,--shot up into a tall, wiry, lithe form,
and her rounded face lengthened to a peculiarly spiritual
shape, developing intellect, in short,--whereas she indicated,
at ten years of age, only strength and solidity--as her
chief characteristics in womanhood. She was a brilliant
scholar at the "high school," and not only that, very vivacious,
and withal just as gentle in heart as she was almost
rudely playful, when play was the real work to be done--for
she did everything earnestly; and there was a peculiar
earnestness in her very gentleness. It was a positive gentleness,
a gentleness springing out of high principles, and
not merely a passive inertness. Her name was Margaret,
and she made the name beloved by all who knew <i>her</i>. She
married a splendid man; but he died in four or five years
after their marriage, and left her with two beautiful children,
who inherited much of his good qualities--more
physical beauty than their mother bore, with not a little of
her great goodness; and it was thought he had left her
"comfortably off," too; but somehow his partner in business
managed to show that the firm was considerably involved,
and she got but a small estate after all. Shrewd people
suspected that her husband's partner knew how to "turn
an honest penny" in a business way; especially when,
three years after the husband's death, the partner built a
very costly house, and added another horse to his old team,
so that he drove a "spanking pair," before a carriage
which was considered a "leetle" too expensive in that
quarter of the world. But, however, 'twas no matter; she
was poor, and old Mr. Alvord insisted that she should
//518.png
.pn +1
return to his home, with her children, and take charge of
it for him.

These things I was told at the time of my becoming acquainted
with the remaining family, long after Mr. Alvord's
death. With him Margaret staid, a faithful, good woman,
charitable to everybody, and beloved by all; by the poor,
especially, who came to Mr. Alvord's house for aid, where
they were sure to go first, before going anywhere else.
With none of his children except Margaret, was Mr. Alvord
on so intimate terms as with Floramond. They all lived
some miles from him; but Floramond managed to see
the old man often, and not unfrequently took him to his
own home, and kept him there for a week or two weeks
at a time, especially when he could take one of Margaret's
children along with him; for the old man, though he
had several grandchildren, did not seem to be very fond of
any except Margaret's son and daughter.

Margaret continued to take charge of the house, and
watched over old Mr. Alvord, like a dutiful loving daughter
as she was; and the old man and his wife grew every
year more and more fond of her. The wife being, in the
latter years of her life, mostly an invalid, was very grateful
for the tender care of Margaret, and when she came to die
entreated Mr. Alvord that he should make his will, and
make it particularly favorable to Margaret, whom she loved
best of all, and who, being a widow with children, needed
more than the rest. Mr. Alvord, of course, promised to do
so, out of affection for both wife and daughter, and the old
lady died blessing him; and though she had long been
expected by her friends to die any day, suddenly, so suddenly
did she die that only Mr. Alvord and Margaret were
with her. There was no time to send for a neighbor, after
she swooned away, one day, in her chair, before she was
dead--reviving from the swoon but for a moment, before
she took her last breath; in which moment, grasping
the hands of Margaret and Mr. Alvord in her own, she
blessed them both, and reminded Mr. Alvord of the will.
//519.png
.pn +1

After her death, Floramond increased his attentions to
Mr. Alvord; and finally, his own wife dying, he, a few
months after her death, became more than usually interested
in Margaret, and was found at Mr. Alvord's so often,
that everybody was talking of his wonderful devotion to the
old man. It is true that some people said he was "after
the biggest slice in the old man's will," and hinted that he
was mercenary rather than affectionate; but he was such
a jolly fellow, that it was difficult to fix upon him the stigma
of bad motives. Mr. Alvord was very devoted to Margaret,
and Floramond must have felt that she would share
as largely in Mr. Alvord's will (and he did not know then
but he had already made one) as he, and perhaps more
largely. Finally he proposed marriage to his adopted
sister; as the best means, probably, of making sure of a
large portion of Mr. Alvord's estate.

There was no blood relation between him and Margaret,
and no reason in the law why they might not marry;
still, Margaret was not a little shocked at the proposal
from Floramond, with whom, as a "brother," she had enjoyed
a very pleasant intimacy--one which she would
not have allowed on any other consideration than that
of brother-and-sisterhood. But Floramond was evidently
greatly taken aback at her delicate refusal of his offer.
But he persisted in his suit, not willing to suffer defeat so
easily; and for a long while annoyed Margaret with his
repeated offers, which annoyance she gently concealed,
though persisting ever in the firmness of her resolve to
"not marry anybody."

But Floramond did not believe her in this resolution to
remain unmarried, believing that she would marry somebody
else,--"take up with the first good chance,"--and
so he laid her refusal to heart, as a personal affront to himself,
and ridiculed the objection which she sometimes
made, in that they were brother and sister in spirit, if not
in blood; which objection was really a serious one in her
feelings, although her reason told her that it need not prevail,
//520.png
.pn +1
//521.png
.pn +1
//522.png
.pn +1
because they were really no kin to each other. Besides,
there was something, which she could not well define
to herself, about Floramond, which, while it did not forbid
her loving him as a brother, made her shudder when she
thought of him in the light of a possible husband. Floramond
renewed his suit from time to time, constantly with
increased tenderness and delicacy, and finally resolved
himself, after her repeated refusals, into the very best-behaving
of brothers.

.pm illo i_520 i_520.jpg 700px "A RASH COURTSHIP."

Finally, old Mr. Alvord, very perceptibly approaching
his end, one day rode out with Margaret behind his span
of fine horses, with which, and a nice double wagon, he had,
among other luxuries, provided himself in his dotage, and
regarding which the neighbors said he was becoming foolishly
extravagant. But they little understood how much
the quiet, saving old man was worth. He had been accustomed
to drive his own horses, but of late was getting
weak, and so transformed his "hired man" into a driver
that day.

John Holt was a faithful, honest man, who had lived with
Mr. Alvord for nearly twenty years, and was intrusted
with everything. Mr. Alvord considered him one of the
family; and although he always paid John for his services
quite liberally, so that John had considerable money out
at interest, yet he intended to remember him in his will to
the extent of a thousand dollars, and on that day was,
therefore, not at all private in what he said to Margaret.
John heard most of it, and particularly remembered what
Mr. Alvord said in regard to the legacy to him. He told
Margaret how much he was worth,--a sum which quite
astonished her,--and consulted with her in regard to what
he should leave each of the children, to some of whom he
proposed to leave but comparatively a small amount; but
in each case Margaret urged him to leave more. He had
done much for them all, but she was willing, in her generous
nature, that he should make such legacies, and leave
the remainder of his property to her and her children. To
//523.png
.pn +1
Floramond he had determined, he said, to leave one fourth;
to divide another fourth between the other four; and to
give to Margaret and her children half, imposing upon her
the payment of a thousand dollars to John, and the distribution
of certain matters of personal property to a few
friends he named; five hundred dollars to be kept at interest,
and that given annually to an old, decrepid widow in
the place, who had been a schoolmate with him in Vermont,
and whose husband had died in Mr. Alvord's employ, after
many years of service. This she was to have as long as
she lived, and he told Margaret that day that he had for
several years contributed a like sum to her support, and that
he had told the widow that if she outlived him, he would
provide as much for her in his will. These with other
things John had heard Mr. Alvord say to Margaret, and
also that he had once made another will in different terms,
which was lodged with Floramond, and had been drawn by
Squire Emerson, a crafty old lawyer, when Mr. Alvord was
once stopping at Floramond's for a week or two. "But
the last will always revokes a former one," he told Margaret;
so that he guessed that he would leave that where it
was. It was thought afterwards that Mr. Alvord had some
fear that if he called on Floramond to deliver up the will
it might lead to trouble. Floramond might fear that he
was not to fare so well.

The next day Mr. Alvord and John drove off to an old
friend of Mr. A.'s,--a sort of universal genius, who held
multiplied petty offices, and withal was considerable of a
lawyer. He drew a will after Mr. Alvord's dictation, and
Mr. A. signed it; but there was nobody at home but the
old scribe, save a very young girl in the kitchen; and as
John was a legatee, the man advised Mr. A. that he could
not properly be a witness,--so Mr. Alvord said he would
find others to witness it; and on his way home stopped at a
neighbor's, went in, and declared the document to be his
last will, etc., in the presence of two persons, who subscribed
it as witnesses. But John did not <i>know</i> this of a
//524.png
.pn +1
surety. He suspected the document had been properly
declared. Mr. Alvord went home and showed the will to
Margaret, and deposited it in a secret place among his
drawers, telling her where. "Now," said he, "if the house
should catch a-fire, you run for this will the first thing, for
I can't bear the bother of making another."

Mr. Alvord lived on a year more. Meanwhile the people
who had signed the will as witnesses had "sold out," and
followed a son to California; but neither old Mr. Alvord
nor Margaret thought of them then in connection with
the will.

By and by Mr. A.'s "time" came, and with all his adopted
children about him, he, after giving them his parting blessing,
dropped away quietly into the arms of death. Floramond
took upon himself the management of the funeral,
which for that place was made somewhat extraordinary,
and the plain old Mr. Alvord went to his grave with a
pomp and show which he certainly would not have approved
could he have foreseen it. After the funeral the
children gathered at the house, and Floramond told them
that he had, somewhere among his papers, a document
which Mr. Alvord had given him, sealed up, and which he
said was his will. He did not know its contents, he said,
but would like to have a time appointed when they could
all be there and hear it read. Margaret said nothing, for
she hardly comprehended matters, so great and real was
her grief over the death of Mr. Alvord; and a time was
appointed, one week from that day, for them all to convene
and hear the will read.

After they had all left, Margaret bethought her of what
Mr. Alvord had said a year before about a former will, and
went to look for the will which Mr. Alvord had given into
her keeping, but it was not to be found! Where was it
gone? She remembered to have seen it several times
since its deposit in the drawer, when looking there for
other things; but she could not convince herself whether
or not she had seen it within some months. She talked
//525.png
.pn +1
with John about it, and John told her of what Mr. Alvord
had done that day he rode to the old clerk's with him; and
she rode over to the clerk's to consult him, but he said he
knew nothing about the witnessing,--that the will must
have been properly witnessed to be valid; and he said,
too, that perhaps Mr. Alvord had altered his mind,--had
destroyed the will without letting her know it; that the
will, as drawn, revoked all former wills, and that if the existence
of this latter will could be proved, it would set
aside whatever will Floramond had had, but that it would
be impossible, in the present state of things, to prove the
existence of the lost will,--that if anybody had stolen it
away, that fact could never probably be discovered. The
conclusion of Margaret, after talking with this man, was
to await and see what Floramond would bring.

The day came, and with it Floramond, with the will done
up in a once white paper, but which time had turned
brown, and strongly sealed. The seals Floramond broke
before them all, drew forth the document, and handed it to
one of his brothers, saying, "You read it out for us. You
can read the old man's writing better than I."

The brother took it, opened it, and said,--

"This is not his writing--somebody's else. It looks
like a lawyer's 'quail tracks,' but" (turning it over), "the
signature is father's."

He tried to read it, but found himself puzzled; and one
of the sisters tried to read it also, with like result. At last
it was declared by them all that Floramond understood how
to decipher poor writing better than the rest, and he read
at it, making bungling work, however (pretendedly, of
course, for well he knew every word of it). By this will
Mr. Alvord had left all his estate to his "beloved son Floramond,"
subject to the payment of certain annuities to some
of the children, among whom was Margaret, who was to
have six hundred dollars a year until her children should
arrive at age, and then three hundred during her life. The
rest all had less. Indeed, the minister, for whom Mr. Alvord
//526.png
.pn +1
had done most in the way of giving him money, was
allowed an annuity of but one hundred dollars (which was
to provide him a rental, the will said), for three years, and
was then cut off entirely.

Mr. Alvord's will was quite elaborate, and stated where
his property was situated,--some in this and that farm,
stock in manufacturing companies, money in banks and on
interest; and they were all astonished at the large amount
of it. The will had been written five years and more before,
and there was one peculiar clause in it,--the suggestion
of the crafty lawyer, probably,--which was to the
effect that Mr. Alvord had never before made a will, and
that he should never make another; that he might destroy
this, and leave all his children to share alike if he did so.

Margaret was confounded. She saw that she was left,
as it were, in the hands of Floramond, her often-rejected
suitor, and she thought she saw a smile of triumph on his
face. She was greatly confused as to whether she should
say anything about the other will or not; but she thought,
finally, that if she was to ever say anything about it, now
was the time, when all were there. So she told them all
about it, and where it was kept; how Mr. Alvord had
brought it home, and how it left a great deal more to them
all, and only one fourth to Floramond, and who witnessed
it. This made the rest jealous of Floramond. With the
old will they were in his hands: they were left comparatively
poor. He had all, and the estate was far larger than
any of them had thought, and it was probable that it had
increased much in the five years, too.

Floramond professed to be astonished at what Margaret
told, and said he was willing to abide, of course, as he
would be compelled to do, by any subsequent will; but
why, if father had made another will, did he not call for
this one and tear it up? His not calling for it made
him think, he said, that Margaret was probably mistaken.
But Margaret was firm in her statement, and declared that
her father had made her read it all over to him, and she
//527.png
.pn +1
told them about the thousand dollars left to John, and what
John said about Mr. Alvord's calling, on the way home, to
get the will witnessed. Then they sent out for John, who
was at work on the farm, and he came in and told his story
before them all. He could not say that Mr. Alvord had
left him a thousand dollars in the will, but that the day before
he had it drawn he said he was going to do so, and
he supposed he did.

At this point Floramond, in a mild way, exhibiting no
uneasiness, blandly suggested that 'before taking the will
left with him to the surrogate's office, the house ought to
be searched thoroughly. Perhaps Mr. Alvord, who had
become quite childish and fickle in the last few weeks of his
life, and was always an over-cautious man, had, some time
when Margaret was away, put the document into a safer
place, intending to tell her where, but forgetting it;' and
so it was resolved by all of them that such a search should
be made at once, before they parted; and for an hour that
house was searched in every nook, drawer, and possible
hiding-place. Old linen, which had not been for twenty
years drawn forth from trunks and chests which held it,
was tumbled over,--in short, the search was complete as it
could be,--but no will could be found; and there seemed
but one way to do--for all to acquiesce, and accept their
fate upon the terms of the will which Floramond produced,
and which was all correct in form.

But there was no little feeling among the children, some
of whom declared it impossible that Mr. Alvord intended
to make such disposition of his property; that Floramond
must have in some way used improper influence with old
Mr. Alvord; and all the public, when they came to hear of
the will, were somehow impressed with the same opinion:
nevertheless they all said that Floramond was a jovial fellow,
and very thrifty; that Mr. Alvord liked thrifty people,
and as he had provided Margaret with a sum sufficient in
those days to live on, and had given her the rent of the
house for life, perhaps it was, on the whole, just the thing
//528.png
.pn +1
he should have done. As for the lost will, that got noised
about, and although everybody believed what Margaret
said, yet the majority thought that probably Mr. Alvord
had destroyed it. The will which Floramond had was duly
presented and proved at the surrogate's office, and the
estate settled under it.

Time went on, and it brought Floramond frequently to
see Margaret,--to look after her affairs, and occasionally
to bring her money. Now that she was in these straitened
circumstances he pressed his suit quite violently and
provokingly at times; and although her patience was oftentimes
sorely tried, she bore her vexation quite philosophically.
It was evident that he did not want her for her
money, for she had none; but she could not believe, after
all, that he loved her, and she was sure that she did not
love him. Floramond was a good business man, and aside
from the property he got under the will, he had accumulated
a handsome sum for himself, and in the course of a
year or two from Mr. Alvord's death he began to assume
the airs and ways of a rich man;--enlarged his house and
adorned his grounds quite expensively; built a row of
houses in the village to rent, and possessed himself of
"the best team in the county," as he was pleased to declare
his noble span of black coach horses.

All this while he was trying to court Margaret up to the
accepting point, but he failed signally, and every time he
visited her he grew less and less courteous; finally, in the
third year, she could not get her annuity as she wanted it.
He promised, but did not fulfil at the time as before, and
he was "short" in his words with her, and spiteful at times.
At last, as if determined to force her into compliance, he
visited her one day, and having failed, though using as
much severity as he could command to win her consent, he
got quite angry, and wished to know of her if she intended
to always spurn him; asked her if she had made up her
mind to that, at any rate. She objected to the word
"spurn," for she wished, she said, to receive and treat him
//529.png
.pn +1
as a brother, but she had always declined his offers of
marriage, as she thought, in a clear, frank way, and she
considered that he ought to know, after all, that she could
never consent to marry him.

"Then you shall suffer," said he, bringing his teeth together
with greater firmness, as if he would like to put an
end to her existence with one bite; and he manifested himself
with such a degree of anger that she was frightened,
and arose from her chair to leave the room, when he rushed
and caught her firmly by the hand, and telling her to look
straight at him, exclaimed,--

"You proud thing! I tell you now that if you had consented
to have me at first you should now have half of
all father Alvord's property as well as mine; but I have
outwitted you. I got him to make his will as he did, and
thanks to John's blundering, I knew when he made the
other; and now, as there's no witness here, I'll leave you
to guess what became of it; and you may groan in poverty
for all me, for you'll have to sue me every time you
get any more money out of the estate."

He had hardly ejaculated these words, in anger, before
he seemed to see his error, and as Margaret, now understanding
his villany, tore herself from his grasp, and rushed
into another room, he followed her, and tried to laugh away
the effect of what he had said.

"Ho! ho! Margaret, haven't I told you a pretty story
though? I wish it had been true, I declare; but I must
tell you that I never believed a word about the second
will. You must have been mistaken, and as to the first,
father and Emerson, the old lawyer, got it up without my
knowledge."

Margaret, who now began to see into his real character,
and who hated hypocrisy, turned upon him, and said,
"There's no occasion for you adding falsehood to your
rudeness, sir. Father made that will under your direction,
in my opinion, and as for the last will, you <i>do</i> believe
that it existed, and I see now that you probably abstracted
//530.png
.pn +1
it, and I wish I could never see your face again till you
can come prepared to prove that you did not. Good day,
sir," and she attempted to pass by him.

But he put himself in her way, and said she shouldn't
stir a step till she took back those words.

"I have spoken what I feel must be the truth, and I
will not retract a word," said she; "and you must let me
pass, or I will call in John. There he is," said she, pointing
through the window at John, but a short distance off.
The mild, quiet face of Margaret must have assumed great
firmness then, for Floramond looked but once into her eyes,
and stepped aside; and as she passed, exclaimed,--

"You shall live to rue this, to your full satisfaction."

And she did suffer. Floramond managed to vex her in
many ways,--sold off a portion of her garden, on which she
depended for her vegetables, contending that it was only
the rent of the house that was left her by the will; and
sending her ten dollars on her annuity when she wanted
perhaps thirty or forty; and getting up stories about her
extravagance, etc. But, fortunately, she had a character
and reputation formed, and he could only vex her in money
matters to any great extent.

Weary months passed, and Margaret frequently thought
of the wills, and what Floramond had said; and when the
ministerial brother called to see her one day, about the
time his hundred-dollar annuity "for a rental" was running
out, Margaret told him something of her troubles,
and her conviction that Floramond had stolen the will.
The minister was not very astute in law matters, but he
could see that it would only be by a "sort of miracle," as
he told her, that they could ever learn anything of what
had become of the will; but Margaret was more hopeful,
and continued to plan ways of getting at the truth.

'There was that old lawyer who had drawn the first will.
May be he could find out something,--lawyers work for
the side that employs them;' but the minister dampened
her ardor in that direction, by telling her that Floramond
//531.png
.pn +1
probably held him under a general retainer, and he could
not be reached; but finally Margaret was so anxious to
have something done, that the minister consented to aid
her to the extent of his little ability, as he was modestly
pleased to say, and at last it came into his head that when
he was once supplying for a few weeks a classmate's pulpit
in Brooklyn, he had one evening heard one of the congregation
telling some marvelous stories about the adroitness
and sagacity of detective officers, and he spoke to
Margaret of this.

This was something novel to Margaret. She knew there
were police officers, and so forth, but was not aware that
there were organized forces of private officers, detectives.
The minister told her one of the strange stories he had
heard, and Margaret was quite astonished by it, and believed
that if detectives could find out "such a thing as
that they could really serve us," and it was resolved by
them that a detective should be obtained, and he might
work out something.

All the rest of the children, except Floramond, were
consulted, and agreed to contribute towards procuring the
detective; and Margaret, who had got wrought up about
the matter, and was a very capable woman to perform
whatever she undertook, declared that she would procure
the detective. Her cousin had long wished her to visit
her at Jamaica (I think it was), Long Island, and in going
through New York she would get some advice, and hunt
up a detective; and thus it came that I chanced to be
called in the case, and I obtained from her about what information
I have thus far embodied in my narrative.

I told her it was apparently a hopeless case; that probably
Floramond (who, I said, had doubtless abstracted
the will) destroyed it at once, as any prudent man would
have done, and that I saw no possible clew to the matter.
But she was so urgent, and so willing to pay me for my
time to go and see the rest of the family, and talk with
them, and to look the matter over on the spot, that I consented
//532.png
.pn +1
to go, which I did duly. I learned but little more
than I have recited, in the place where Margaret lived,
but I thought I would like to visit Floramond's lawyer,
and found myself duly at his office.

I am very fond of the members of the profession generally.
They are apt to be more "men of the world" than
most other people. The practice of their profession brings
them into contact with all classes of men, and they learn
more or less of charity, and are, in fact, among the most
reliable of citizens everywhere. But there was something
in this lawyer's face (old Boyd, we will call him, and
but for a son of his, an honorable man in an important position,
I would call the old villain's name fully) which revealed
to me that I had a curious customer to deal with;
that he lacked moral principle, and was capable of any
sort of dark deed, murder included, perhaps.

I said to myself, instinctively, this old Boyd is at the
bottom of this matter of the wills, and he has not let an
opportunity pass to get Floramond Alvord in his clutches,
and keep him there. That second will was taken by Floramond,
I said to myself, and the chances are that he
showed it to Boyd, and if he did, the old man was cunning
enough to keep it. At this point I changed the plan
of operations which I had in theory when I entered his
office, and talked with him about things in general; told
him I was a stranger from New York, stopping a day or
two in the village; that when I was younger I had read
law a little, and always felt more at home in a lawyer's
office than I did in a country bar-room or hotel parlor, and
seeing his office, had wandered into it.

The old man had considerably many books, but they
did not look very inviting; however, I complimented him
on the size of his library, and at last asked him about his
practice, and found that he had a good deal of patronage,
considerable of which his age prevented him from attending
to, such as that in justices' courts; and finally I suggested
that I had a brother who had studied law a few months in
//533.png
.pn +1
the city, and I thought it would be better for him to study
with somebody in the country; there were a good many
temptations for a young man to waste his time, in the city.
He seemed pleased, brightened up a little, threw off the
sombre shadows from his face, and went to bidding for my
brother, by telling me of this and that man who had studied
law with him, and who were now eminent in the profession,--which
was a fact, as I afterwards learned.

So I contracted with him to have my brother come and
study with him; and before I left the town I had secured
good board at a moderate price for him, and went away.
I lost no time in conferring with Margaret as to her ability
to furnish me about such a given sum of money a month
for three months, not over six at most, and I found she
could do it. I told her that she must ask me no questions,
and in fact must not know of any such man as I, or
speak my name; and that if my plans succeeded, she would,
of course, know the facts, and that would be enough; and
if they failed, after proper trial, I would tell them to her,
so that she should see what use her money had been
put to. She was perfectly reasonable, and consented
to all.

I found myself in New York city in two days from that
time, and procured a young man, on whom I bestowed my
last name, and sent him on with a proper letter of introduction
to Mr. Boyd.

I told him he had better tell Mr. Boyd that he had forgotten
all the law he had read, and that he guessed he had
better read over Blackstone again at first. I had given
the young man the points of the entire case as I understood
it, and told him what I wanted him to do--to take
his time, to study well, and to watch Floramond Alvord's
movements in connection with Mr. Boyd for the first two or
three weeks, and to write me from time to time what he
thought of Floramond. But the first thing he was to do,
after being there three or four days, was to "slick up" the
dusty office a little, sometime when Boyd was out, and
//534.png
.pn +1
surprise him by its neatness on his return, and thus beginning
to win upon the old man's respect as much as
possible; to then take down and rearrange the books
and the old papers, and so get himself familiarized to
everything in the office; and to do these things, finally, in
Boyd's presence.

He was as shrewd a young man as I could possibly have
found, and he was a handsome fellow, very. Old Boyd
told him, when he presented the note of introduction, that
he did not much resemble his older brother! (me),--which
was a sad but absolute truth. But the young man was
ready for him:--

"No," said he; "brother takes after father's family. I'm
said to be mother's boy."

"Yes, yes," said old Boyd, "I'd have known that if you
hadn't told me."

My "brother" was not long in becoming popular in that
village, and old Boyd was quite proud of him; but he did
keep him studying, was "faithful" to him, as he promised
me he would be. I frequently heard from my "brother,"
and at last I got a letter, saying, "Come on; I will meet
you at No. 1" (which meant Mrs. Margaret's) "at such a
time as you may appoint."

I knew by this that my game had worked well, and that
there was probably no time to lose; so I hastened on, and
sending a letter before me, appointing the time, met my
"brother" at Margaret's. There was the document--the
lost will! He had it with him. But what was to be
done?

In the first place, the witnesses had long been away in
California, as was supposed, and nobody knew where.
Efforts had been made by Margaret to institute a correspondence
with them. If they could not be found, however,
we could prove their signatures by others, if we
could find the experts; but Margaret had never been
able to find anybody who ever saw their writing, except
the old man's, with chalk on his barn door, noting number
//535.png
.pn +1
of bushels of wheat, or when his cows would "come in,"
and that would hardly do.

But I bethought me that they had sold out their farm
when they went away, and must have signed the deed,
the wife to convey her right of dower, and I felt easy. I
instructed my brother to return to the office next morning
as usual, and go on with his studies, and I would go to
the county seat next day, hunt up the records, and possibly
find the deed still on file there, as well as the record,
and then, if it was not there, I would go to the grantees,
and ask for the deed; but these people were indebted to
Floramond largely, Margaret said, and would have to be
approached carefully. She was still in ignorance of the
will being found, but knew, of course, that I had some
good reason for what I was about, and she was equally
ignorant that my "brother" was studying with old Boyd.

I took the will and went next day to the county seat,
and though I could not find on file there the deed which I
expected to, I found the record of it, and the record and
the deed, too, of another conveyance made by the same
grantors, and, as luck had it, made on the very day after
the will was signed; and the signatures to the two instruments
were wondrously similar. I was satisfied on this
point.

But there was another point to be gotten over; and this
troubled my "brother" a good deal. Although he had
been but two months with Mr. Boyd, he had fallen in love
with a beautiful girl (who was the daughter of the richest
man in the town, except Floramond Alvord, and was on
intimate terms with Floramond's daughters), and they
were already "engaged," and he wanted the matter
worked so that he need not be found out in it, for the girl,
he feared, would "sack him," as the village phrase was, if
he was known as having searched for and delivered up the
will. So I managed to stop in disguise at the same hotel
where I had been before, and to find my brother in when
old Boyd was out, and learned precisely where he found
//536.png
.pn +1
the will, and the character of the documents which were
in the same drawer with it; a drawer which had evidently
not been opened for many years, save to hide away the
will in. Among the other documents were some curious
letters to old Boyd, from a man by the name of Andrew
Wilcox, who had gone away years before to the west, and
died, and who was a waggish fellow, and wrote funny letters,
in a very peculiar style of penmanship.

I was put to my wits' end how to work matters; but my
brother told me that in two days old Boyd was going to
start on a journey, to be gone a week; that the stage
would leave the hotel at ten o'clock in the morning, and
after that I could come in again, and may be could arrange
something. But he had told me enough. I had formed my
plan before his words were cold. That night I found
myself at one of the adopted brother's, about ten miles off;
told him he must ask me no questions why, but that I
wanted him to appear in the village at the time the stage
was going off, and to ask old Boyd if he didn't use to correspond
with old Andrew Wilcox,--to which he would, of
course, say "Yes;" and then Mr. Alvord was to say, "I
thought so, and I'd like, for a certain reason, to get hold
of some of his letters to read. He wrote such a curious
hand, didn't he?" that probably old Boyd would say he
was going to be back in a week, and then he'd hunt them
up; but Mr. Alvord should evince a desire to see them as
soon as possible, and ask him if his clerk couldn't hunt them
for him; this to be done just as the stage was loading up
to start; all of which was done, and resulted better than
we expected, for old Boyd was in pretty good spirits that
morning, very accommodating; and told Mr. Alvord that
his clerk might hunt up the papers; though he didn't call
him his clerk but said, "Tell the handsome rascal in my
office to hunt and get you all of Wilcox's letters to read
he can find; and I don't mind if you take one or two along
with you, so that you leave me some. Good morning!"
and away the stage rolled.
//537.png
.pn +1

I told Mr. Alvord that I would go over to the office, and
he might drop in and ask the clerk for the letters, in
the course of ten minutes. I went and arranged things,
and he came and told my brother what Boyd had said.
My brother made unsuccessful search in three or four
places, and at last came upon the letters; hauled out a few
of them, which Mr. Alvord run over, laughing here and
there at the odd, eccentric expressions, which he said were
just like the stories he had heard about the old man, when
my brother asked if he would like to see more. As he
wished to, they were produced, and among them was reposing
the will where I had placed it.

Mr. Alvord was sitting by a little round table, and as
my brother placed the second batch on the table, I asked
him if he would not be kind enough to go over to the
hotel (but a few steps off,) and buy himself a cigar, and
bring some to me, handing him money. He went out; and
placing my hand among the letters, I drew out the will,
and placed it in Mr. Alvord's hands--"<i>You found that--do
you understand?</i> But I will take it, and be responsible
for its return, if, after we have examined it, you think
it better be returned." He had no notion of the will yet,
and acted with a sort of mechanical blindness, as I guided
him, throughout wondering what I could be up to. (I had
agreed to pay him very liberally for his time.) "When the
clerk comes in," said I, as I put the paper into my pocket,
"remind him that old Boyd said you might take off some
of the letters; the whole stage full heard him say so; and
do you select a few, and when you come out, come over to
the hotel, and find me. I'll be there."

The clerk came in, and brought me the cigars, and I
offered one to Mr. Alvord, who declined to smoke, but
kept on reading the letters; and I, bidding him good morning,
walked out after lighting my cigar. In the course of
a quarter of an hour he came out; said he found "Wilcox's
letters very interesting;" and now, said he, "I want
//538.png
.pn +1
to know what all this means." I got him aside as soon as
I could, and we went up to my room.

Locking the door, I said, "Mr. Alvord, on turning over
these letters of Wilcox's, you came across a paper which
you took possession of for a moment. Now I want it understood
that you <i>kept</i> possession of that; that the clerk
handed you a bundle in which you found it, (poor fellow,
what <i>would</i> he say, if he knew that he had unwittingly disclosed
the profoundest secret in all old Boyd's life and
practice? But no matter for that.) You took the paper,
and you handed it over to me, and I am going to keep
it for the general good, unless you prefer to keep it. Do
you understand?"

"Why, yes, and no, too," said he. "I understand the
language you use, but I don't know what it's all about.
Pray tell me at once, and end my suspense."

"Well, you promise me on your word, as a gentleman,
to be guided by me in the matter which is to follow, if you
think what I shall point out to be right and just?"

"Why, yes; any man could safely promise that."

"Are you under any special obligations to your brother
Floramond?"

"No, sir; only he has lent me little sums of money,
from time to time--which"--

"You have doubtless always paid up?"

"Yes, with interest."

"Ah, ha! then he was lending you money, and getting
interest on it, which really ought to have been your own--wasn't
he?"

"Well, yes, I've felt so sometimes; but there's doubt
about it, perhaps."

I had sounded the man deeply enough, and saw his temper
towards Floramond; and so, drawing a little nearer
him, I said,--

"You have heard of me before, but have never seen me
till night before last; but we must be intimate friends for
a while. Your sister Margaret has told you of me. I am
//539.png
.pn +1
the detective from New York; and this paper (pulling
it from my pocket) is old Mr. Alvord's last will and testament--the
last one, and you are here entitled to a
fortune."

Mr. Alvord's face turned pale with astonishment.

"Let me put my eyes on it!" said he; and I handed
it to him, opened. He ran it over hurriedly, looked at
the signature, saying, "There's no mistake about it; and
that's father's signature--just as Margaret always said it
was. I had feared father had destroyed it, and I had entirely
forgotten all about the matter for a good while. I
gave up all as lost the day that Floramond produced the
old will, and we searched the house, all of us, for this."

It was not long from that morning before we had everything
arranged for bringing Mr. Floramond Alvord to terms,
and I remained near the scene directing matters. I held
on to the will, while the brother wrote from his home to
Floramond, that his father's last will had been finally
found; that he felt it his duty to inform him of it at once,
and that legal steps would be taken directly; but this letter
was not sent till on the day before old Boyd was
expected back.

That day Mr. Floramond Alvord visited old Boyd's office,
very earnest to learn when he would be back, and asked
my "brother" to ask Mr. Boyd to call on him at his house
as soon as he should arrive. "Tell him I have a very important
matter for him to attend to," said he, "and want to
see him at once."

Old Boyd arrived, and the clerk gave him the word from
Mr. Alvord.

"Some devilish speculation on hand, I 'spose," said old
Boyd, gruffly, as he left his office, and proceeded to Alvord's
house. But he wasn't gone long, and soon came back
to the office, and went silently to rummaging his papers.
He looked here and there, as if his memory didn't serve
him exactly; finally he came to the drawer with the Wilcox
letters in them, and my brother watched his manner
//540.png
.pn +1
intently. The old man took up the letters, laid them out;
took up other packages, and laid them out, and then laid
them back, and looking at the Wilcox letters, said,--

"These look as if they had been disturbed lately. Have
you been arranging this box?"

"No, sir. I've not been re-arranging the papers; but
there's a man been here, the morning you went off,
and said you told him he might hunt for some letters of
one Wilcox; and, in fact, as the door happened to be open,
I overheard you tell him so, just as you got into the coach,
and I hunted them up, and he took some of 'em, as he
said you said he might; but he said he would return
them," said my brother, very seriously, "if you thought,
when you got home, that he had taken too many."

"Did you ask him his name?" inquired old Boyd, very
gravely.

"No, I didn't think of that. I supposed, by the way
you spoke to him, you were old friends, and I didn't wish
to question the gentleman," replied my brother, naively,
with a probable cock in his eye, which might have revealed
a great deal if old Boyd had seen it.

Old Boyd, with an assumed manner of great composure,
said, in response,--

"I wish you had asked his name. I do remember somebody
speaking to me, in my haste of getting off, about Wilcox's
letters. Wonder who it was?"

"I hope he hasn't taken off the most valuable ones,"
replied the clerk.

"Well, I can't tell; but I fear he has," said old Boyd.
"I must find out who he was. They'll remember over to
the hotel, perhaps," and off he went over there; but it
wasn't long before the clerk saw him on his way to Alvord's
house. What transpired there then is only known
to old Boyd and Floramond Alvord.

By the next day the matter was all in an able lawyer's
hands, and Mr. Frederic Alvord and he had a conference
with Floramond and old Boyd.
//541.png
.pn +1

Precisely all that happened between them I do not
know; but it would seem that Floramond had given the
latter will into Boyd's hands, and he had been cunning
enough to keep it as a terror over Floramond, who had
indorsed his paper, etc., etc., besides always paying him
enormous fees for legal business, which old Boyd managed
to make quite considerable. Indeed, old Boyd had increased
his property a great deal during the five or six
years, and it is probable that he used Floramond to advantage
in many ways.

Alvord thought best to settle with his brothers and sisters
according to the terms of the lost will, and to pay
them out of his fourth the income of which they had been
respectively deprived of for the five years and more. Old
Boyd, of course, settled his affairs with Floramond to suit
himself, and it is presumed that he did not lose money;
but it may be that he lost the former's confidence. It must
have been a bitter thing for old Boyd to consider how foolishly
he played into Frederic Alvord's hands through the
Wilcox letters. But old Boyd is dead now, and never, I
suppose, learned how Mr. Alvord was led to inquire for old
Andrew Wilcox's funny letters.

Margaret was overjoyed with the success of affairs, and
declared, as did all the rest of the family, that after this
she would consider nothing impossible, and never lose
hope, even in the darkest hour. She is living still, a beautiful
but older woman, with her children grown up about
her, and married, I believe.

My "brother," the clerk, took to the profession of the
law, and studied with old Boyd for a year or more, and
finished his studies in Judge ----'s office, in Albany,--eventually
marrying the young lady to whom I have alluded,
and who brought him a fortune quite too large to be
"laughed at;" but he did not continue at the profession
long, but went into mercantile business, and is now a member,
and has been for some years, of one of the most successful
firms in New York city. The firm name is favorably
//542.png
.pn +1
known in all parts of the land. I should say that he
was, through me, paid by Margaret a quite handsome sum
of money for his "good behavior" in the premises; enough
to enable him with economy to "pursue" his studies--and
his lady. I have had many substantial reasons in my
life for not forgetting the Alvord family, who believe that
but for me they would still be lacking comfortable, indeed,
large fortunes.

Floramond had enough with his one fourth; besides he
had a fortune of his own. He ceased to persecute Margaret
instantly on the development of his villany, and two
years afterwards married a woman, who, I am told, came
to learn of his conduct (which it was for sundry reasons
attempted to keep secret in the family), and being a woman
of spirit, and much extravagance, leads him a funny life--probably
using her knowledge of his conduct as a means
of controlling him.

Floramond, should this sketch ever meet his eye, is
welcome to reflect that he was once out-generalled by a
man, of whom, happening to see him (me) one day at the
hotel in his village, he asked of the landlord, "Who is that
simpleton?" The landlord was only able, of course, to give
him my assumed name, and say that I was from "Sandy
Hill, Washington County" (as I had registered myself), he
believed.

"Yes; well I should think he was dug out of the <i>sand</i>,
somewhere," was Floramond's response. I hope he still
thinks so, for it must be a comfort to him.
//543.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=confidential
THE CONFIDENTIAL CLERK.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
THE INNOCENT OFTEN SUFFER WITH THE GUILTY--THE DETECTIVES' "KEYS"--REGRETS--LEONARD
SAVAGE, A YOUNG MAN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, AND
HIS FAMILY STOCK--RICHARD BROOKS, A WEALTHY NEW YORK MERCHANT--HIS
VISIT TO YOUNG SAVAGE'S FATHER--RESULTS--PARTIAL
BIOGRAPHY OF MR. BROOKS, IN WALL STREET AND ELSEWHERE--A
SLAVE TO FORTUNE--A FATHER'S PRIDE--MR. BROOKS'S FEARFUL
DREAM--MR. BROOKS IN THE OLD HOME OF HIS CHILDHOOD--HOW A
TRUE MAN TREATS HIS WIFE--FAMILY ASPIRATIONS--THE LOVE OF
YOUNG MEN--COUNTRY AND CITY TEMPTATION--A "NEW SUIT," AND A
TRIP TO THE MOUNTAINS--A SURPRISING PRESENT--A HAPPY SEASON--A
FEARFUL CHANGE COMES--THE TERRIBLE RESULTS OF AN UNJUST
JUDGMENT--ONE OF THE STRANGEST THINGS EVER KNOWN--A CATHOLIC
PENITENT AN ACTOR IN THE SCENES--REMORSE--UNRAVELLINGS IN
AN UNEXPECTED WAY--A SPEEDY VOYAGE TO EUROPE TO RESTORE THE
WRONGED TO HIS RIGHT PLACE.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>It</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
It
.if-
is one of the misfortunes of a detective's life, that he
learns to be suspicious of the innocent as well as of the
guilty; and, like other men, detectives sometimes err in
their judgment, and the innocent suffer, not only under
unjust suspicions, but sometimes the penalty of offences of
which they are not guilty, through the force of "circumstantial
evidence" which is brought to bear upon them.
Indeed, in the eye of the law, circumstantial evidence is
frequently of more weight than the direct testimony of
alleged eye-witnesses, for the latter may falsify, but circumstances
do not create themselves, and do not often
occur simultaneously or in combination. There can be no
"conspiracy" among them, as between living witnesses.
They have no prejudices to express, no animosities to gratify,
and we usually attach to them the greatest importance.
Indeed, they are the keys usually, by which the detective
//544.png
.pn +1
unlocks the mysteries of the case which he may be called
on to work up.

But notwithstanding all this, they are not always to be
relied on; and when the innocent suffer from the misuse
of these keys, or the misinterpretation of their significance,
the officer who uses them must feel more keen regrets,
if not remorse, than if he had been misled by the statements
of living men, inasmuch as it is his duty to himself
and his calling, as well as to his fellow-men, to draw wise
and just conclusions from the circumstances of which he
gets possession; and in what I am about to tell, I would be
most gratified if I could make partial amends, publicly, of
the result of an error of mine and others, by using the
names of the party wronged. But the whole matter was
known only to a few, some of whom are dead, others of
whom are in business with the party wronged; and there
are one or two more whose sympathy for the innocent
wronged man, has, since the discovery of his innocence,
only added to the high esteem in which they held him.
And it were not wise for him that I give publicity to what
was known to so few, and is to-day practically forgotten
by them. As I may not give the proper names, I will, for
convenience, coin them, while I give the important facts
in the luckless and unhappy case.

Leonard Savage was a bright boy, brought up in a town
in Grafton County, New Hampshire, and born of one of the
best of the old stocks of that State--a stock which had
had its important representatives at the bar, on the bench,
in Congress, in the pulpit, in the profession of medicine, in
journalism (at Boston); in short, in every department of
life, not to overlook farming, in which its representatives
had always excelled. Leonard had been prepared for
Dartmouth College, whither he was expecting, on the
opening of the next scholastic year, to go, and with bright
prospects; for at the preparatory school he excelled all his
mates in some branches, and was their peer in the rest,
when, in the summer of 184--, a relative of his, an elderly
//545.png
.pn +1
gentleman, and a New York banker, visited the White
Mountains for recreation, with his family, and called on
Leonard's parents on his way.

This gentleman, whom we will call Richard Brooks, for
the sake of a name, was born in New Hampshire, and, indeed,
was raised there, at a place about twenty miles from Leonard's
father's, the two being about the same age. He had
visited his native spot, where he had not been before for
twenty-five years, the day or so before coming to Mr. Savage's
house. At his native place he found but few faces
he recognized, and all his relatives were either dead or
had "moved to the West, or the South." "Nothing left
there," said he, "of mine, save the sleepers in the graveyard,
and the mouldering monuments over them." He
became so mournful that he felt unlike proceeding at once
to the mountains; and calling to mind the joys of his early
days, when he and Mr. Savage, who were devoted friends
as well as relatives, used to interchange frequent visits,
even over that long distance of twenty miles,--longer in
New Hampshire, over hills and mountains, than fifty miles
would be in our western prairie States, or even along the
line of the Hudson River, in New York,--he set his heart
upon a visit to Mr. Savage, who, he learned, was still living
in the old spot, though for fifteen years he had not heard
from him, so absorbed had Mr. Brooks been by the exciting
life of a Wall Street dealer, and with some operations
which had called him more or less to Europe.

Early in life he had gone to Georgia (the southern
portion of it, Fort Gaines, I believe), in a small mercantile
business, which grew upon his hands into something quite
important, where he married a wealthy planter's daughter,
and was able, through this alliance, to enlarge his sphere
of business, which eventually became very great, and was
scattered over a large district.

Mr. Brooks's early New England training had well disciplined
natural capacities of no mean kind, and given him
advantages as a business man at the South, equalled but
//546.png
.pn +1
by very few if any. His rise was rapid. Visiting New
York on his bridal tour, his lady formed certain acquaintances
there, which led her, southern born though she was,
to desire New York as a home. She constantly urged Mr.
Brooks to dispose of his, or rather their scattered business
and interests in the South, preserving only her plantation
for a winter resort, when they liked (but which, by the
way, they never occupied after they came to New York;
for the glitter of fashionable life so inthralled Mrs. Brooks,
that she spent no winter farther south than Washington).
Year after year she persisted, and Mr. Brooks eventually
arranged his business and removed to New York, easily
managing to get an interest in a prosperous mercantile
house as silent partner.

In this he embarked a large share of his money; and
finding that he needed more active life, he put most of the
rest of his property into a manufacturing concern, of some
department of which he took charge. The latter prospered
moderately; but the "moral delinquencies," as they
were modestly called, of one of his mercantile partners,
who controlled the use of the funds, brought the house to
ruin, and Mr. Brooks saved only some fifteen per cent. of
his investment out of the wreck. Putting his manufacturing
business upon a good footing, he thought to be content
with that; but he must have more money. The associations
he and his family had made in New York must
be sustained, and it required more money than his manufacturing
business brought him to keep up the style he
desired.

He was dejected for a while; but having had more or
less experience in stocks and in Wall Street, through his
brokers, however, in other times, he turned his attention
to the study of matters in that street, and came to the
conclusion that he as well as another was entitled to succeed
there,--and in the end he was not mistaken. Taking
the funds saved from the mercantile ruin, though they
were small, he went into Wall Street and formed a partnership
//547.png
.pn +1
with an experienced broker, who saw that he could
make the large and influential acquaintanceship of Mr.
Brooks available. The latter's rise was steady, and somewhat
rapid. Everything he touched turned to gold, and
he became one of the most fortunate of brokers and speculators.
Eventually the establishment of the Bank of ----, the
most active of the projectors of which Mr. Brooks had
been, called him to the post of bank president, in which
post he displayed rare abilities. But his financial cares so
multiplied--he was called to engage in so many operations
all over the land, in fact,--that he became a slave to his
own fortune, and never left the city, save to go where
business called him,--sometimes West, but more frequently
South. His family went to Saratoga, or the White Sulphur
Springs of Virginia, or where else they pleased, to
pass a few weeks of the summers, but he could never "find
time." So it was that he had not visited his native hills
for so many years, and had almost forgotten the playmates
of his boyhood, and with them his dear old relative and
friend, Mr. Savage.

It can easily be conjectured that when he found himself
again with the most intimate friend of his childhood, in the
very house (though it had been much repaired and changed
since he had seen it) where he had spent so many days,
and even weeks, in each of several years of his early life,
the old affections came back to him, with emotions intensified
by the very fact that so much that was dear had so
long been buried from his sight, and memory almost, in the
mad whirl of business in which he had won his successes.
In short, the latter's brilliance only served to make more
bright and vivid the sweetness and riches of the old memories;
and to attempt to draw the picture hero which Mr.
Brooks made for me when I first formed his acquaintance,
of his sadness and his happiness at that meeting with Mr.
Savage, would be preposterous for me, for he painted it in
words which then brought tears to my eyes.

He spent a few days with Mr. Savage, and they rode
//548.png
.pn +1
//549.png
.pn +1
//550.png
.pn +1
about over the familiar hills; on cloudy days tried the
trout brooks, but without their early success; wandered
off to old farm-houses where they used to "attend parties,"
and to and from which they used to escort the girls; and,
in fact, lived over their young days together quite gleefully.
But it was not alone for old memories' sake that
Mr. Brooks lingered there. He had made an observation
the minute he arrived at Mr. Savage's which constantly
impressed him. Mr. Brooks had only a family of daughters
living. He had lost two sons,--one in the South and one
in New York,--the latter of whom having grown to nineteen
years of age he had set his heart upon, had educated
him at Columbia College, and was about to send him to
Germany to add to his education, intending him for the
bar, or for financial business, as the son might decide on
his return, when the young man, one day, was run over
by a horse, which, breaking away from his carriage, dashed
across the sidewalk unexpectedly to everybody near, and
injuring several persons slightly or severely, so crushed
and trampled upon young George, the son, that after
months of intense suffering, from internal wounds especially,
he died.

.pm illo i_548 i_548.jpg 400px "FEARFUL DREAM OF OLD MR. BROOKS."

Mr. Brooks had never been fully his old self after the
death of his son; and though some years had passed since
the mournful accident, Mrs. Brooks was frequently awaked
at night by her husband's talking in his dreams about, and
often as if with, George. So he, too, frequently fell asleep
in his chair after a weary day's work, and muttered in his
sleep about George; and on one occasion, after being
awakened from what was to Mrs. Brooks evidently a fearful
dream, in which she stood over him and witnessed his
agony for a moment before she aroused him, he, in response
to her importunity, related the dream, the substance of
which was, that while, when he first fell into a drowse
he was enjoying visions of rural life and domestic felicity,
in the midst of which George, sitting in an easy-chair, and
//551.png
.pn +1
caressed by a young maiden, or perhaps his youthful wife,
was revealed to him.

So blissful were these visions (which of course to him
were realities), that he had just resolved to abandon the
sickening struggle of business, go to the country and lead
a quiet life, when all at once the scene changed! and down
through the very centre of the beautiful panorama of bliss,
came, half-wrapped in clouds, a hideous-faced, naked demon,
bearing a great bag of gold in each hand, one marked
"100,000," the other "1,000,000," as if to tempt him to
longer continue in the money-getting service of Satan, and
to peril his soul the more! and what added to the horror
of all was, that just then George was represented as leaving
his seat of bliss, seizing his hat, and rushing down into the
lower plane, grasping at imaginary bags of gold which just
eluded his clutch, his face covered with the greed of
gain; and it gave him the greatest pangs to see his darling
boy fall from so high an estate to one so low. It was
while in the agony of these pangs in which he wildly threw
up his arms, as if struggling to get up and go forth to save
George, that Mrs. Brooks awakened him.

It was, as it will be seen, a terrible blow to Mr. Brooks,
the death of that son, who, he confidently hoped, would
take and fill, or more than fill, his place in business. He
doted upon him more, perhaps, than he otherwise would
have done had he not been the only son in a family of half
a dozen children. The daughters would need his aid and
counsel, and of this the father thought much. It was an
unspeakable and irremediable loss to Mr. Brooks. He had
frequently thought to adopt some young man, or dreamed
that some of his daughters might marry some man after his
own heart; but looking around, he never found a young
man for adoption who suited him.

He had relinquished the hope that he might yet encounter
somebody to his tastes when he came to Mr.
Savage's home; and when the fresh, fair, well-formed,
keen, but gentle-eyed, and firm of lip, Leonard, with his
//552.png
.pn +1
fine, bared brow, ran out with his father and family to greet
the just-arrived relations, who sent word of their coming
the day before, Mr. Brooks's eyes gathered new lustre to
themselves as he looked upon him, and discovered the
strong resemblance of Leonard to his favorite child George;
and the impression then made upon his mind was deepened
as Mrs. Brooks, taking her husband aside an hour after
their arrival, spoke to him in low words, and with tears in
her eyes:--

"Have you not noticed how like our dear George is
Leonard Savage? I noticed it the instant I met him, and
I can't keep my eyes off from him; and he acts just as
George used to, too," she added.

Mr. Brooks told her that he had remarked the resemblance;
"but," said he, "please do not tell him, or the
family, or our girls of it, for I have already resolved to
study the young man while I am here, and I shall not pay
him too much attention. I wish to see him as he usually
is. I wish you would watch him carefully, too, without
letting him know it."

Mrs. Brooks, of course, consented to her husband's sensible
wishes (and wives should never consent to unsensible
ones), and they watched Leonard with great care, only to
become more and more attracted to him day by day.
Sometimes Mr. Brooks and he took the old horse and carriage
and rode away long distances together. During
these journeys Mr. Brooks was sounding the mind and
character of Leonard, talking to him of the world and the
men in it; of what he had seen and learned in Europe; of
the modes of doing business in New York; of his old acquaintances,
some of whom had achieved honors and fortune,
and how they had lived; others of whom had made
shipwreck of themselves, earlier or later in life, and so on,
only to find that Leonard had a wondrously appreciative
and grasping mind, and seemed to be perfectly well-grounded
morally. The personal beauty, too, of Leonard,
and his excellent colloquial powers, charmed Mr. Brooks.
//553.png
.pn +1

He found himself, after a few days, wholly in love with
Leonard, and as his wife's judgment of the young man corresponded
with his own, he felt increased confidence in
Leonard; for Mr. Brooks was one of those men who, fortunate
in the possession of noble and sensible wives, know
how to appreciate them. Mr. Brooks always told his wife
his important business, and never took any great step,
when there was time enough to do so, without consulting
her. But men who do business in Wall Street are sometimes
called on to act on the instant, in matters which involve
hundreds of thousands of dollars.

The Brooks family remained several days at Mr. Savage's,
and not only convinced themselves of Leonard's perfect
goodness and great capacities, but of the worthiness
of the whole of Mr. Savage's family; and it can readily be
conjectured that, at this early time even, Mr. and Mrs.
Brooks, who had a daughter of the same age as Leonard,
and other daughters a little younger, might have looked
forward to an alliance for one of them with a young man
so good and of so much promise in the world. The children,
too, of Mr. Brooks became fond of "cousin Leonard,"
as, in their caprices, they called him, and attached to the
whole family, especially to old Mr. Savage, their father's
time-old friend, who was one of those straightforward, severely
honest, intelligent, but at the same time fun-loving,
jocular persons, whose magnetism is contagious, and makes
everybody around them "feel better."

A day or two before his departure from Mr. Savage's
for the mountains, Mr. Brooks took a long ride with Leonard,
in which he talked much with him about life, its cares,
toils, and struggles, its successes and disappointments;
the value of the education of the schools, and that of the
arena of business, etc., and finally told him how he had been
considering him, and what projects he had been forming in
his mind for him business-wise. Mr. Brooks shed many
tears as he told Leonard of his resemblance to his own
//554.png
.pn +1
dear George, and Leonard, too, was greatly affected, and
could hardly utter a word.

Leonard was unwilling to give up his proposed collegiate
course; but Mr. Brooks assured him that he was already
superior in scholarship to the great majority of the
country's most successful business men, and pointed out
to him how many brilliant young men of real merit there
are in the legal profession (to which Leonard inclined), as
well as in the medical and clerical, who can make but poor
shift in the world; who do not succeed; and he pointed out
to him the advantage of stepping at once into an established
business, where the course of his life would be free from
the heart-racking trials and tortures through which these
men are compelled to pass.

Mr. Brooks told Leonard that he would place him in
business, where an honest course would be sure to win
him great fortune in the end; that he had profound confidence,
from what he had seen of him, in his moral nature,
and that he would, in short, take him at once into business
with him, give him a small interest and a salary besides,
till he arrived at age, and then, if all things proved, as he
believed they would, would give him a large interest in
his business. "Besides," he said, "meanwhile my house
shall be your home, and as much yours as if you were
really my boy."

Leonard was overwhelmed with Mr. Brooks's kind offers,
and expressed his fears that he had not the capacity to
fill the place Mr. Brooks wished him to occupy. But Mr.
Brooks would not hear to this at all; and finally Leonard
said he could take no such important step without consulting
his father and mother, which only seemed to increase
Mr. Brooks's respect for him; and it was arranged that that
night Mr. and Mrs. B. and Mr. and Mrs. S. and Leonard
should have a conference, either sending the "girls"
and "children" off to bed early, or managing to take
a walk by themselves. Night came, and it was very
beautiful. Mr. Brooks proposed that Mr. S. and wife, and
//555.png
.pn +1
himself and wife, should take an evening stroll over to an
old farm-house, where lived some goodly neighbors, and
make them a parting call, and told Leonard to "come
over" at such a time.

On their way home they stopped under some grand old
trees, where there were rude seats for the accommodation
of travellers, and there, in the moonlight, talked over the
matter. Mr. Savage was surprised at Mr. Brooks's generous
offers. He hardly knew what to do. He had hoped
that Leonard would go to college, and finally determine to
enter the ministry. This was his highest ambition for
him. His own brother Leonard, after whom the young
man was named, was a minister of much promise, but who
became ill early in his ministry, and died after a long
period of sickness and infirmity, at the age of twenty-nine.

Mr. Savage had looked to his son fondly to "do his unaccomplished
work," as he expressed it (his brother's), for
Mr. Savage was of that class of men who feel that their
families--their "name"--must do about so much "work
for the Lord in His vineyard," at any rate, and he was loath
to have Leonard relinquish collegiate education. He said
he was not rich, but could provide comfortably enough for
Leonard; and besides, he had a great dread to have Leonard
go so far from home, especially to New York, so young.
He had never been in New York, but he had often visited
Boston, and felt that a city was not the place for young
men. But Mr. Brooks told him that New York contained
the best, as well as the worst people in the world; that
idleness was the bane of young men, either in town or
city, and referred him to many young men whom they
knew in their boyhood, and of whom Mr. Savage had told
him on that visit, that they had made wreck of themselves
in the country, some having gone down to drunkards'
graves, etc.; that Leonard would, at once, have all he
could do, and perhaps more; that he would directly enter
upon a stern, and not a little laborious life, but that his
//556.png
.pn +1
great success would be sure; that he would watch over
Leonard with a father's care, etc.

Mrs. Savage cried, and Mr. S. persisted in his objections.
Finally, Mr. Brooks told him that if he would give
his consent, he would watch Leonard carefully, and that
if he discovered the least thing to excite his suspicions
that Leonard was in any way unfitted for the course of
life in which he wished to place him, he would send him
back to his father, and that, in the meanwhile, Leonard
would have earned some money for himself, and that then
he would not be too old to go to college; "for," said he,
"a year's trial will decide all."

This was a new suggestion to Leonard, and he caught
at it, and added his importunities to Mr. Brooks's; for he
saw the brilliant prospect before him if he proved himself
capable, and it was Mr. Brooks's own proposal that he go
on trial. So, after much further conversation, Mr. and
Mrs. Savage consented, and the parties returned to the
house.

Mr. Brooks was so delighted that he could hardly contain
himself, and insisted that Leonard should go with him
and his family next day to the mountains. To this Leonard
demurred, for he knew that fashionable people resorted
there, and he had not, he said, a proper suit of clothes.
He was having some made preparatory to going to college,
but they were not done. Mr. Brooks gently laughed
at this; told him he was well enough dressed now; that
it was not his clothes, but him, that he wanted with him.

But it was finally arranged that Leonard should visit
Boston, and provide himself with a ready-made suit, and
follow the family in two or three days. Mr. Brooks, knowing
a certain clothing-house in Boston, told Leonard to go
there, and nowhere else; and after Leonard had selected
his suit, judge of his surprise, when the clerk, asking his
name, in order to make out the bill, presented it to Leonard,
subscribed, "Payment received in full," as Leonard was
drawing his wallet to pay for the goods.
//557.png
.pn +1

"But what does this mean?" said Leonard, as, taking
the bill, he handed the clerk the money, which was refused.

"I am not able to tell you more than that I had orders
to hand you the bill receipted, and to refuse any money you
might offer," said the clerk, as he started to go to do something
needing then to be done.

"But stop, sir," said Leonard; "I cannot receive this
compliment from your house. I must know what it
means."

At this point one of the proprietors, seeing that Leonard
was confounded, stepped up, motioned the clerk away to
his duties, and said,--

"Allow me to ask what is the trouble?"

"No 'trouble' indeed," said Leonard, "but this: I've
bought a suit of clothes, for which I wish to pay, and the
clerk won't let me, and has given me the receipted bill."

The proprietor reached out his hand for it, looked at it
for an instant, and said,--

"Is this your name?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then the bill seems to be correctly made out."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I am one of the proprietors of this house,--would
you prefer <i>me</i> to receipt the bill, rather than that
it be done in our name by a clerk--is that it?"

Of course Leonard was astonished at the query.

"Why, no, sir," said he; "I suppose this is as correct
as it can be, as far as the signature is concerned, but I am
astonished that you won't take my money."

"Well, we do refuse to, and shall be greatly obliged to
you if you will take the suit along with you. You will
have no trouble in the future about it, and I am not at liberty
to explain the matter to you. All I can say is, it is
all right; we are satisfied, and should be glad of your custom
when you wish anything in our line."

Leonard left the store confused, unable to conjecture
//558.png
.pn +1
what it meant, for he had no suspicion of the fact, afterwards
disclosed to him, a year from then, that Mr. Brooks
had written a private letter to the house, enclosing a draft
on a New York bank, telling the house to let such a young
man, whom he accurately described, and who would be
there in a day or two, have the goods, and they could
settle the difference between amount of draft and cost of
goods thereafter. Of course he enjoined entire secrecy;
hence it was that the proprietor was "not at liberty to
explain."

Mr. Brooks intended this as a pleasant surprise upon
Leonard, but it didn't prove so. He was more or less
harassed by it till he came to know the facts. He was
one of those independent, self-reliant souls, who rather go
without this or that than receive it from patronizing hands;
and as he did not even suspect this as Mr. Brooks's work,
and as old Mr. Savage, when Leonard came to tell him of
the occurrence, was equally unsuspecting, Leonard was a
little vexed.

Mr. Brooks had been so long away they did not conceive
that he had acquaintances in Boston; and moreover
they knew that he had not been near the post office of the
village while he was there, or had they suspected him
they would have thought of that, and been puzzled. But
Mr. Brooks had been wary, and without going to the post
office himself, sent his daughter out to walk, and deposit
the letter, and told her to say nothing about it, and to
show its superscription to no one.

Leonard followed the family in his new but plain suit,
for he had not been extravagant. His fine form needed
no adornment, and the visitors at the mountains that season
hardly knew which to admire the most, his frank,
handsome face, his Apollo-like form, or his gentle, kindly
manners. Of course Mr. Brooks was very proud of
him, and was never so happy as when talking to the people
he met of the prize he had found "up among the
granite hills." He spoke of Leonard as his "clerk," and
//559.png
.pn +1
was, in short, a particle silly in the expression of his pride
over Leonard; and Mrs. Brooks was not far behind him.
So that the gossiping portion of the visitors to the mountains,
when they met, began to whisper it about that it
was "easy enough to be seen" that Mr. Brooks was arranging
an alliance for his daughter, and they were very sure
it was the next to the oldest; and before the Brookses left
the mountains, these gossipers were certain of it; and,
as they observed the quiet, modest, and reserved appearance
of the beautiful Isabella, they construed her silence
into her non-concurrence with the supposed plan, and
Mrs. Brooks overheard some of them bewailing the condition
of her daughter, declaring it was "too bad to compel
a girl to marry against her will;" that although Leonard
was so beautiful, and all that, yet it was not right to
compel the girl to marry him, and the Brookses "ought
to be ashamed of it." Little did they know what at the
same time was going on in Isabella's heart, and as little
foresaw what the future, not years distant, was to develop
in the happiness and joy of the Brooks and Savage
families. Ah, and much less could they then have conjectured
of the terrible reverses--the inexpressible sufferings,
which were to come to some, indeed all, of those then
happy households.

The season over, Mr. Brooks and family returned to New
York, making but a day or two's call at Mr. Savage's,
where it was arranged that Leonard should follow them in
a month, and then set out for Boston, where Mr. Brooks
called on the clothing-house, and received the balance due
on his draft.

"That young man," said the proprietor, who had had the
conversation with Leonard, "is a splendid fellow to look
upon, and I liked his manners. I've thought ever since
he was here I would like to get his services in our store--if
I could. Do you think he could be induced to come to
Boston? We'd do well by him--give him a fair trial--he
would have nothing to complain of."
//560.png
.pn +1

"Then you like him? What struck you most in his appearance?"

"Well, he's intelligent and handsome, that everybody
can see; but what I liked most, was his honest, open face.
I think he's perfectly reliable--a thing I can say of but
few of the clerks our house ever had."

Mr. Brooks was delighted with this estimation of Leonard
by a shrewd, keen-sighted business man, and replied,--

"You've judged the young man rightly, I think; but
you cannot secure his services. A business is already
provided for him. Were it not for that, I might try to get
him into your employ."

Soon after Mr. Brooks left the store; and, of course, the
first thing he told Mrs. Brooks on entering the Revere
House, where they were stopping, was what the merchant
had said about Leonard, and the daughters all heard it too.

But I must cut this part of the story short, for I find my
personal regard for Leonard is leading me to dilate upon
those points which are not so exactly connected with the
detective's business; and I have gone over the substance
of Mr. Brooks's narrative to me of the past, in such detail,
in order to give the reader some adequate notion of
the intensity of the grief which came upon the Brooks
family, and to show how the extremest innocence and the
most lofty honor may sometimes suffer under false charges,--the
designs of the base and vile for their own mean ends;
or, as in this case, through the conspiracy of circumstances,
the solution of which necessarily involves the innocent
sometimes.

Leonard went to New York in due time, and was taken
into Mr. B.'s family as a member, and duly installed in Mr.
B.'s business, first as clerk, Mr. Brooks advancing him
little by little, as he saw fit.

A year rolled round, and Leonard visited his country
home, and Mr. Brooks had no occasion to "release" him
in that he loved him; and all the family loved him; and
//561.png
.pn +1
there was one of them who more than loved him, Isabella;
but so gentle and undemonstrative had she been, that
Leonard did not know it; and he regarded all the girls
as his sisters, and was kind, and gentle, and cheerful to
them all alike. Still, sometimes he thought he "liked"
(for he never thought of "love" towards any of them, save
in the kindly, friendly sense), Isabella, in particular, the
best.

When he returned there was rejoicing in the Brooks'
house, and all went on smoothly. These things proceeded
till Leonard became of age, and Mr. Brooks at once took
him into full partnership, giving him outright an interest
sufficient to make him wealthy. Leonard had not forgotten
his love of books, and occupied most of his leisure
hours at his happy home, reading to the family. Thus he
was storing his mind, and fitting himself for greater usefulness.

So fashionable a family as the Brookses, had necessarily
been called into society much, and had given many parties
themselves, but they gradually lost their interest in those
things after Leonard came; and as Mr. Brooks saw the advantage
of which his reading and studential habits would
be to his daughters, he encouraged their more quiet life.
In short, Leonard became indispensable to that household,
and lived there as a brother and a son, to whom they all
had come to look up, till his twenty-fourth year, when,
going a little into society, and meeting various ladies,
whom he admired, he began to conceive the thought of
marriage; but he found none who, in comparison with the
young ladies at home, he thought equal to them, especially
to one of them, the gentle Isabella, who was also a very
good scholar, and had studied a great deal since Leonard
became a member of the family. He dwelt upon the matter
very much. Isabella was almost a sister, indeed. He
felt a delicacy about revealing his affections; but at last he
did, and the tears of Isabella revealed her only too great
joy.
//562.png
.pn +1

They made their story known to Mr. and Mrs. Brooks,
who, in their gladness, would have had them marry the very
next day. Mr. Brooks said that any delay under the <target id='tn562'>circumstances
was absurd; that he did not care for formalities,
and wanted to make no show. But Mrs. Brooks's pride
took another direction. She wanted time to make a great
wedding, and Mr. Brooks yielded. The wedding came,
and passed all happily, and Leonard Savage and Isabella
Brooks were united for a happy life, to be checkered, however,
by great misery to them both. They remained with
Mr. Brooks's family for a year, when they moved into a
new house which Mr. Brooks had erected meanwhile, and
given to Isabella, and time went on; children were born
to them, and happy grandparents lived over their lives
again in the smiles of their loving grandchildren.

Meanwhile Mr. Brooks changed his business somewhat,
and founding a bank, he became president of it, and along
with him went Leonard, as chief clerk, his property, now
sufficient for his support in style, being invested in various
paying stocks. He went more as a companion for old
Mr. Brooks, than to fill a position for the sake of its salary;
and as Mr. Brooks had a dear friend, who, in his old age
had become ruined in Wall Street, it was arranged that he
should be cashier so long as he might desire, or might
live, and that Mr. Savage should succeed him, if he so
desired. But Mr. Savage was Mr. Brooks's confidential
clerk in all respects, and was intrusted with everything.

All things went on happily and smoothly for a year and
a half, till a certain fatal day arrived. The day before,
Mr. Savage, who, in all the long time he had been with
Mr. Brooks, never drew out at any time from the concern
but a portion of his dues, told Mr. Brooks that he had become
embarrassed a little through the decline of a certain
stock, which was sure, however, to come up again, and that
he wanted a thousand dollars for current expenses; and
unwilling to sell any stock he held, and not willing to ask
//563.png
.pn +1
anybody else to loan him, was obliged to ask of him a favor.
Mr. Brooks smiled at the matter, gave him the money at
once, and in a manner of half reproof, and half joke, said,
"Leonard, what made you think I'd lend you money? I
won't, never. Take that as a birthday present <i>from</i> me,
to reverse the order of things, for to-morrow is my birthday."
Leonard took the money, considering it a loan,
which he should make up in a week.

The next day was a fatal one to the happiness of that
house, and the one to which all I have written here has
been pointing. It was noon. Mr. Brooks was out of town,
the cashier had gone to his dinner, and so the clerks, and
all but an old negro messenger, who had been with the
house since its establishment, and he was dozing away in
his accustomed seat, when a man entered the bank with a
draft for two thousand dollars, and something over (I forget
the exact sum); was in haste, or such was Mr. Savage's
story; got it cashed by Mr. Savage, who acted as
teller in the teller's absence, and cashier too, and made an
entry in the books, and slipped the draft, as he declared,
into the proper drawer, preparatory to its being duly filed,
according to the custom of the bank. That night the
entry was found in the books, but no draft to correspond
was found. Mr. Savage was confounded; the old cashier
said an unkind word to him about carelessness, and the
bank closed without the matter being settled.

Next day the cashier brought the thing to Mr. Brooks's
notice before Mr. Savage came in; and the old cashier presumed,
on his intimacy with Mr. Brooks, to say that the
affair "looked bad." The illness of one of Mr. Savage's children
delayed him an hour or two beyond the usual time
of arriving at the bank, and this added to Mr. Brooks's
uneasiness, not knowing the cause. Moreover, there
flashed into his mind, what had been forgotten for nearly
thirty years, the mournful history of the latter life of a
man in the South, whom he once knew, and who, in the
midst of happiest surroundings, and after having enjoyed
//564.png
.pn +1
everybody's confidence for a period of over forty years,
proved at last a villain.

Mr. Brooks deemed this man's name coming back, as it
did,--he knew not how,--to memory, as a sort of providential
presentation of light upon the matter in question;
and, by the deep degree of his affection for his <target id='tn564'>son-in-law,
his suspicions became intense, as he afterwards
explained it. By the time Leonard Savage got to the
bank, Mr. Brooks was in the mood to believe almost anything
of him. He remembered, too, that he was embarrassed
the day before, and he had given him a thousand
dollars. How did he know but he wanted more thousands?
What had he done with his money?

When Mr. Savage arrived, Mr. Brooks, with a frown on
his face, invited him into the directors' room, shut the
door, and asked him to explain about that draft. Mr. Savage
told him the whole simple story, quietly; expressed
his great regret at his stupidity; said he knew he must have--in
fact, he knew as well as he knew anything--put
the draft in such a place; that it was drawn by such a
bank in the country (a familiar one, often doing business
with them); was all right, etc., and that he and the clerks
had hunted high and low, and it was not to be found the
day before. Mr. Savage was secretly annoyed at Mr.
Brooks's pertinacity in the matter, and he finally said,--

"Father Brooks, of course I propose that the bank shall
not lose the money. The other bank will, of course, recognize
the fact of having given the draft; and now, as the
draft is paid it is all the same to us if it is lost."

"Yes, yes," said Mr. Brooks; "that's all well enough.
I wonder why I've not thought to send word to the other
bank, and find if they have issued such a draft on us." This
very suggestion piqued Mr. Savage's pride awfully, but he
suffered the affront silently; and as the conversation
closed, Mr. Savage said, "And, father, even if it were a
forged draft, I should tell you to have it charged to me,
//565.png
.pn +1
against my stock and dividends. The bank shall not lose
for my laches."

This suggestion about a forged draft struck Mr. Brooks
unpleasantly. "What if it should prove that the bank has
made no such draft on us that day?" asked Mr. B. of himself,
as he and Mr. Savage parted; and he immediately despatched
a messenger to the country to find out the facts,
who, returning, said the bank had issued no such draft.
Mr. Brooks's suspicions became strong that Mr. Savage, for
some inscrutable reason, had done wrong. He did not care
for the money, but his confidence was shaken in him. He
would pay the sum withdrawn, and get rid of Mr. Savage
as easily as he could. This was his purpose; but he
bethought him, that perhaps somebody could unravel the
mystery; <i>perhaps</i>--but he did not believe it--somebody
had deceived Mr. Savage with a forged check; but, ah!
where had that gone. "Perhaps," Mr. Savage had thought--well,
he could not solve it for himself, knew not what to
think; and after pondering over it, came to our office (for I
then had a partner). He revealed his case to me,--told
me the whole history which I have related, and far more,
and said he had grown ten years older within the past two
weeks. He had said nothing yet to his wife about it, and
thought he never should.

I told him it looked to me that Mr. Savage was an honest
man, and had been imposed upon with a forged check;
that possibly, by some connivance with the old negro messenger,
the forger had repossessed himself of that check;
but that that was the most unlikely thing in the world. I
tried to conceive various ways to account for it, even to
supposing that Mr. S. was mistaken as to having put the
draft in the drawer, but had tucked it, unthinkingly, into
his vest pocket, and had lost it. But to all I could suggest,
he had a ready reply; and I told him that I thought I'd
better examine the premises, the drawers, and so forth;
and we arranged a private examination,--he and I being
alone in the bank,--which was made.
//566.png
.pn +1

I saw that if the drawers were full,--and it appeared
that on that fatal day much business had been done, and the
drawer was probably full,--a paper might get out over the
back end and fall on the floor, and so get lost; but this
suggestion was answered to my satisfaction,--the greatest
search had been made for the paper on the afternoon of
the day it was said to have been presented, etc., and my
theory was thus precluded. After a few conferences, I
finally yielded to Mr. Brooks's opinion, that Mr. Savage was
guilty of having taken the money, and trumped up the
silly story for his defence; and yet it was all so absurd an
act in one situated as was he.

A while after, Mr. Brooks had a serious talk with Mr.
Savage, who was allowed to pay the bank the loss, and
matters were so arranged that the clerks thought that the
check had indeed been found, though they did not see it;
but Mr. Brooks's confidence in and respect for Mr. Savage
was gone, and the poor old man's grief was terrible. "Not
one honest man in the world," he used to mutter; "even
if you educate him yourself, and nurture him in your own
bosom, and give to his keeping your dearest child, and
your wealth and all, he'll deceive you."

Mr. Brooks caused Mr. Savage to give up his place; and
told him that he wanted his daughter and their children to
visit him as before, but hoped he should never see <i>him</i>
at his house, and if he did visit there, he trusted he would
take care not to meet him. And Mr. Savage, whose feelings,
under the circumstances, can perhaps be better conceived
than described, seeing the old man's wretchedness,
withdrew from his sight quietly, simply saying, "It is
awful--I am innocent--perhaps something will convince
you, some day, that I am."

"No, no," said old Mr. Brooks; "I have no such hope;
there is no room for hope; you have deceived me in your
character, and I am fast breaking down."

Mr. Savage went to his home an almost broken-down
man himself. For a long time he kept all from his wife;
//567.png
.pn +1
finally, he told her; and she, against his advice, went to
implore her father, now inexorable in his opinion. He
cried over his daughter, but would not yield his opinion.

Mr. Savage became quite low in health, and it was finally
thought best, by his physician, that he should take a sea
voyage,--go to Europe to spend a year or two; which
he did, leaving his wife and children at home. He made
his will, and arranged everything as if he might never return.
The physicians could not determine exactly what
was his malady, but thought change of conditions and travel
would do him good. They did not know that it was wounded
affection--affection for his dear old father-in-law, whom he
really loved and adored--that was secretly undermining
his health; for he could not tell them his story.

Two years had passed since that unhappy day, of the
presentation of the draft, when there came a letter to Mr.
Brooks, purporting to be from a Catholic clergyman, who
gave his name, saying that a dying penitent had confessed
a presentation of a forged draft on his bank for two thousand
dollars at about such a time--day of the month he
could not recollect,--and that he was ready to make restoration,
to the extent of his ability, with funds left in his
hands for the purpose. He could restore twelve hundred
dollars, and asked Mr. B. if such a check had been drawn
on his bank at such a time, as the penitent was not in the
most vivid state of memory at the time of confession, and
talked of two or three banks at the same time.

Here is light! thought Mr. Brooks; and he lost no time
in seeking out the priest, and getting from him all he
could disclose; and when the priest,--who would not
give him the man's name, on account of certain relatives
of the forger's, who were respectable people,--Mr. Brooks
remembered that Mr. Savage's meagre description of the
man, who he alleged presented the check, was like the
priest's, Mr. Brooks began to suffer remorse. "Yet, where
is the check?" he constantly asked himself; and with
this he settled his conscience as frequently as it was disturbed;
//568.png
.pn +1
and saying nothing to his wife about this,--to
whom not till months after the fatal day he had told his
story,--thought over the matter by himself. He did not
receive the money from the priest, but caused him to put
it in the bank, told him to act as its trustee, and that by and
by he could come to some conclusion. He told the priest
that there was alleged to have been a draft for two thousand
dollars drawn at that time; and he learned from the
priest that the man who confessed to drawing a forged
order was skilful with his pen, and capable, probably, of
forging successfully. And with this all, Mr. Brooks was
constantly in trouble of mind.

Finally, it had been resolved by the bank to get a heavy
safe, in addition to the one in the vault, for its increasing
business; and when the position it was to occupy was selected,
it was seen that the old desk must be removed. In
placing the safe in its position, the old floor broke down on
the part nearest the wall,--for the banking rooms were in
an old building,--and it became necessary to repair the
floor. The safe was rolled out in the middle of the room,
and the floor, or a portion of it, taken up. It was found that
for nearly nine inches from the side of the room the floorboards
had nothing to rest on, and consequently broke
down with the weight of the safe. They were not thick
and stout enough, and the reckless joiners, in laying the
floor, had saved themselves labor in slighting their work.
But the floor had served its purpose well enough till that
day. On tearing off the broken ends of the floor, several
papers were found between them and the ceiling of the
room below,--the basement offices,--and small bits of
sealing-wax, short strings, a few cents, and such things.

The bank men and clerks looked at the papers, and one
of them, taking up a paper of peculiar color, and folded,
said, "What's this?" and carelessly opened it. "Why, this
is a draft on our bank by the Bank of ----; cashed, too, I
reckon; how came it here?"

Fortunately Mr. Brooks was looking on the scene. The
//569.png
.pn +1
old cashier was sick at home, the person in his place occupied,
and the clerk who found the paper a new comer.
"Let me see that," said Mr. Brooks, and reached his trembling
hand for it, took it, and turned away; looked at it; put
it in his pocket, and went into the directors' room; cried till
he was weak; and finally, coming out, said he was sick,
and must go home; had a carriage ordered, and was soon
at home, revealing to his wife what, together with the confession
of the dying penitent, he considered the full proof
of Mr. Savage's innocence.

The color of the draft, which had proven a little dark in
the mean while, however, was like that before and then
still used by the country bank in its check blanks, and was
all right. It flashed upon him that the forger had gotten
possession of one of these, done his work, deceived Mr.
Savage,--and all was clear but as to <i>how</i> the check got
there,--a mystery in some part never to be solved. But
next day Mr. Brooks observed, what had never occurred to
him before as remarkable, yet which he remembered to have
carelessly noted every day of his life, that the base-board
above the floor had shrunken away from the latter for
the space of nearly a quarter of an inch; and he found that
the broken ends of the floor boards revealed that they but
barely reached under the base board, so short were they.
The draft, found folded, had somehow slipped out of the
drawer, and got on to the floor; and perhaps, in somebody's
haste that fatal day, had chanced to be hit with the
toe of a boot severely enough to be cast under the base
board, into the receptacle where it was found.

Mr. Brooks's remorse was great. He would have hurried
to Europe, to see his son-in-law, and bring him back, if he
could possibly have then left New York, but he could not;
and he did the next good thing. He would not trust to the
slow process of the mail,--for where his son-in-law was at
the time his daughter, who had been made acquainted
with the facts, could not tell. He was last heard from at
Rome, but was about to depart for some other place--Vienna,
//570.png
.pn +1
I believe. So Mr. Brooks wrote the most tender
letter, imploring forgiveness, and together with one from
Mr. Savage's wife, sealed it up very securely, selected a
messenger, who was no other than the old cashier's, his
friend's, son, and fitting him out, bade him make haste to
find Mr. Savage, give him the letters, and bring him home.

The messenger left for Europe by the next steamer from
Boston, and going directly to Rome, traced out Mr. Savage
from there, and found him at last in Athens, Greece, an
enfeebled, prematurely old man. He had suddenly changed
his purpose to go to Austria, and set out with a party from
Rome to Greece.

Mr. Savage was so overcome with joy that he was
thrown into a fit of sickness, which lasted for some three
weeks; but he recovered to his old status of late, and
before he arrived in New York--his anxiety having gone,
and his happiness at the prospect of soon being restored to
the arms of the old man, whom he so loved, with all suspicions
removed from his character, and his innocence proclaimed--he
had grown to be quite like his old self in
appearance, though yet unusually thin.

I will not attempt to describe the meeting between
him, his father and mother-in-law, and his wife, for these
were all at his own house, in a private room, when he
arrived from the steamer,--Mr. Brooks feeling that he
could not meet him there, as he wished to in his heart,
for he would be overcome, had written him a note by
the coachman, telling him where he would find him. Mr.
Brooks's recital of that scene, which he told me more than
once, was the most touching story I ever listened to;
would that I had the power of pen to reproduce it; but I
have not, and I will not depreciate it by the attempt.

During the messenger's absence Mr. Brooks had sought
me, told me the story of the confession and the finding of
the note, and would have scolded me a little I felt, because
I did not think of the shrunken base board,--which I now
think I noticed,--if he too had not overlooked that in
//571.png
.pn +1
the examination, although he had in fact noticed it nearly
every day that the rooms had been occupied by his bank.

The still unravelled mystery of how the check got out
of the drawer and under the base board, sometimes puzzles
me; but it is no stranger, after all, than many things I have
known. There can be no doubt of Mr. Savage's innocence
in the matter. The twelve hundred dollars, with some
interest thereon, was finally paid over by the priest; but
Mr. Brooks took care that Father ---- received, in a way
mysterious to him, and for his own use, a much larger
sum; so grateful was he for the restoration to his home of
his innocent son-in-law, whom he had so deeply, yet naturally
enough under the circumstances, wronged.

This case, I hardly need add, served to increase my
caution in the examination of my future "work," though
I thought I was as wary and careful as a man could well
be before.
//572.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=peculiar
THE PECULIAR ADVERTISEMENTS.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
THE DOCTRINE OF CHANCE--A NIGHT AT THE GIRARD HOUSE, PHILADELPHIA--AN
INOFFENSIVE GENTLEMAN, MY ROOM-MATE--I DISTURB HIS
SLEEP--A QUEER TALE--NELLIE WILSON AND HER UNCLE--WILLIAM
WILSON, NELLIE'S DISSOLUTE COUSIN--FEARFUL LOVE-MAKING--A
RESCUE--A CALL TO DUTY--A DEAD MAN'S WILL MISSING--STUDYING
UP THE CASE WITH THE GREAT CRIMINAL LAWYER, JUDGE S.--FATE
INTERPOSES--A MYSTERIOUS AND PECULIAR ADVERTISEMENT--AT THE
CONTINENTAL HOTEL, WAITING AND WATCHING--AN "APPEARANCE"--WILLIAM
WILSON AGAIN--AN UPPER ROOM, AND THE VILLAINS THEREIN--A
PRIVATE CONFERENCE NOT ALL SECRET--A FLASH OF VICTORY
BEFORE UTTER DEFEAT--NOTES AND DOCUMENTS EXCHANGED--BASE
REJOICINGS--A FATAL NEGLECT--THE SURPRISE--COMPLETE DISCOMFITURE--THE
END ACCOMPLISHED--"COALS OF FIRE,"--BUT THEY
DO NO GOOD--A VIOLENT DEATH--HAPPY CONSEQUENCES--THE PECULIAR
ADVERTISEMENTS UNRAVELLED.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>Coincidence</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
Coincidences
.if-
in life and its various pursuits are perhaps
governed by some mysterious law, and are not always
resolvable by the doctrine of chance. The detective is
not only brought into contact with all sorts of people without
the profession, but frequently finds himself in the company
of his mysterious fellow-craftsmen, to some purpose.
An advertisement among the "Personals" in the New
York Herald had directed me to Philadelphia, in the spring
of 1857; or, rather, following the thread of one by which
I thought I might possibly unravel a mystery of great importance
to a client of mine, I had gone to Philadelphia;
and putting up at the Girard House, was compelled,
on account of the crowded state of the hotel, to take room
for the night with a quiet, inoffensive looking gentleman,
whose appearance at times, however, betokened to me
that something was pressing upon his mind.
//573.png
.pn +1

Not a little harassed by the mission I was on, I found
myself unable to sleep, and while pondering over this and
that device for the next day's proceedings in my mazy
work, I was conscious that I constantly changed position,
rolling over in bed, etc., but as softly as possible, in
order to not awaken my fellow-lodger, whom I supposed to
be sweetly enjoying his dreams. The night had worn
well on, when my companion addressed me:--

"Friend, are you ill?"

"O, no,--why?"

"I have observed that you have not slept any yet to-night."

"Then you, too, have been awake the whole time?"

"Yes, fully."

"Let me ask, then, if you are unwell?"

"O, no; but business cares press upon me, of a somewhat
serious nature."

And thus beginning, after a long period of cautious
colloquy the fact became developed to each that the other
belonged to the fraternity of detectives. My new friend
had come from Cincinnati upon an errand which he disclosed
to me in part, and I had the happiness of making
him, what he was pleased to call, valuable suggestions, and
which so proved in the sequel, I believe. I had aided him,
and he was ready to serve me if possible. In so far as I
properly might, I made him acquainted with my business,
and the end which I sought; told him of the advertisement
in the Herald, and how I interpreted it, and why I believed
that I was on the right track. He had an illustrative case
in point, very like, in many respects, the affair I had in
hand; and inasmuch as a change in the programme of my
investigations took place in a day or two after, so that my
affair was dropped, and never pressed to its full development,
I will recall my friend's story here, as perhaps not
less interesting than mine might have been, had I carried
out things to their possible issue.

My friend's story was, in substance this: "Some years
//574.png
.pn +1
ago I formed the acquaintance of a wealthy gentleman,
residing in this city. His name we will call Wilson, and
his home was one of the most comfortable and luxurious
in the city. His wife had died some years before, and his
home was presided over by his very beautiful niece, Nellie
Wilson, a girl of about twenty years of age, who, with his
only son, constituted his 'family.' Miss Nellie was a most
attractive person, tall, symmetrically formed, with a wealth
of beautiful hair. Her eyes of that peculiar blue which is
seldom seen in such richness as in hers, were among the most
beautiful; in fact, to not be too sentimental, and yet to
speak truth, I must say they were the most beautiful eyes I
ever looked into. Her complexion was faultless, and her
manners, especially in their quiet majesty, were more than
faultless,--imposing and elegant. A great prize, you see.
Well, I must say, and so I will say, friend, that if, when I
first saw this Miss Nellie, I had not had at home one of the
best wives in all my State, or in this whole country, I
should have been obliged, I fear, to let myself go distracted
over that embodiment of female perfections, Miss Nellie;
and as 'twas, I confess I didn't forget her soon; and 'pears
to me, if this is really I that's talking, I haven't quite forgot
her yet!--how is that, friend?"

"Well," said I, in reply, "it would seem so to me, if I'd
let it, but I won't trouble you with that. Go on with your
story, for I am all interest."

Resuming, he went on to say that it wasn't strange that
such a girl as Nellie, whose disposition was as sweet as
her beauty was great, had captivated the kindliest affections
of her uncle, to the disparagement of the son, who
was an eyesore to his father, being exceedingly dissipated.
His dissolute life had deeply tried his father, whose blasted
hopes of his son's ever becoming reformed had only tended
to deepen his regard and tenderness towards Miss Nellie.
In fact, the son and father lived, if not in a sort of perpetual
petty warfare, in very uncongenial relations.

Charles Wilson, the father, was a sort of <i>bon vivant</i>
//575.png
.pn +1
(bating the use of liquors), and took great pleasure in inviting
to his table such persons as pleased his fancy. Inviting
me one day, I went, and enjoyed a most capital
dinner, and with it an hour or more of very pleasing
sociality. Mr. Wilson had the habit of retiring to rest for
an hour after his dinner, and bowed himself out of the
room with due explanations. I occupied myself in conning
over some books in the studio, which was divided from the
adjoining apartment by sliding doors. Miss Nellie had
withdrawn soon after dinner to see, I suppose, after sundry
household duties. A little weary of my solitude, I fell
into a sort of doze in the capacious and inviting arms of a
luxurious "study-chair," out of which I was awakened
by voices which evidently proceeded from the adjoining
room.

Our dinner had been partaken of at a late hour, and by
this time the evening had advanced well on, so that the
uproar of the street had ceased, leaving that quiet silence
which one can almost feel by the touch, and rending audible
almost the least sound. I was not obliged to listen, but
was rather forced to hear all that was going on in the next
room. It must have been, I saw, the voice of William
Wilson, the son, that had broken my reverie, and as I discovered
something husky and gross in it, I concluded he
was intoxicated, muttering,--

"Hear me <i>now</i>, Nellie! Curse you! You--<i>know</i>--I--love--you,"--drawing
out his words with the peculiar
utterance of a drunken, but a very earnest man. "Yes, I
worship the very dust under your feet. Your beauty
makes me crazy. It transports me in imagination into fairy
regions. Yes, it's the fairy regions themselves, in its complete
self!"

"Away with your ridiculous praises; I will have none
of your compliments now. Why do you continue to persecute
me? Have I not made my decision plain to you?
I cannot recall it. I will not change," she replied.

"Dear Nellie, do have mercy!--don't say so! If you
//576.png
.pn +1
//577.png
.pn +1
//578.png
.pn +1
but knew how utterly I worship you! I have no thoughts
but of you! Every pulse of my being beats for you! O,
I beg you, sweet, blessed idol!--do, do smile once upon
me!" the intoxicated brute responded.

.pm illo i_576 i_576.jpg 700px "RESCUE OF NELLIE WILSON."

"William, you are grossly intoxicated. How dare you
come to me thus?"

"My own cousin Nellie, drunk or sober, I will be yours;
and by all the gods, you <i>shall</i> be mine!"

"I pity you, William, but I beg you to leave me now, or
I must and will leave your presence."

"Never! my beautiful cousin, until you own that you
love me. I would barter all the hopes I ever had of future
happiness for one moment of your love. I could stand a
whole year gazing in rapture into your sweet face. O,
darling one! blessed Nellie! swear that you <i>will</i> be
mine!"

Thus the young fellow went on, working himself into a
great passion.

"Mister--Wilson!" here broke in Miss Nellie, "unless
you leave the room, or let me, I'll call for help."

"No, you shall not! I know that my father loves you
better than he ever did me, and I know that in his will he
has left you nearly all his property, and left me with next
to nothing. So much you have won upon him, and to add
to my misery you scorn my love; but there's no power on
earth to forbid you being mine, and you shall be!"

There was a movement in the room, as if Miss Nellie
was proceeding to some action.

"Nellie, you shall not avoid me so. I tell you, you shall
be mine. O, dearest! own that you love me! Come, let
me fold you to my breast!"

There was a slight, fitful scream, and I heard the delirious
fellow rushing towards her; and feeling her peril, I
jumped to the sliding doors, pushed them apart just as
the drunken wretch had wrapped his arms about the girl.
But when he saw me he let go his grasp, and with a maddened
expression on his face, hastened from the room. I
//579.png
.pn +1
caught the frightened girl in my arms, and bore her to the
sofa; but it was some time before she recovered from her
swoon.

Fearing that this might not be the last wrong which the
drunken son would inflict upon that beautiful girl, I felt
it nothing less than my duty to inform his father of the
son's outrageous course; and William was banished from
the house.

Not long after I left for the West, and was absent a week
or so. The night of my return I received a call from
Judge S----, the great criminal advocate, who told me
that he had been hunting me all day, exclaiming, "And
thank a blessed Providence I have found you at last."

"You are a little excited, judge; what's the matter?"

"I am in a great perplexity, and I want your aid to get
out of it, for I know that you knew George Wilson--didn't
you?"

"<i>Knew</i> him? Yes, and know him perfectly well. He's
a great friend of mine, I'm glad to believe."

"Hadn't you heard that he is dead?"

"Dead! It isn't possible--is it?"

"Yes; died night before last."

"How sudden! Is there any suspicion of something
wrong about his death?"

"No; for he had been unwell for quite a while. He
died of heart disease. You, perhaps, don't know that I was
his attorney; but you do know how wretchedly he lived
with that infamous son, William. A few months ago I
drew Mr. Wilson's will. He had been so long complaining
that he began to fear that he could not last long, and wanted
to make all things secure for his niece, Nellie, who, by the
will, was made legatee of nearly all his property, he leaving
but a small annuity to his son--and--"

"But, here let me ask you if William knows about the
provisions of the will?"

"Not that I know, for a surety; but let's see. I do
remember that when the will was witnessed, we were disturbed
//580.png
.pn +1
by a slight noise, as of one disposed to obtrude;
but I saw no one."

"You may be sure that it was William whom you heard,
for I chance to know that he understood the chief contents
of the will;" and then I recited to him what I had overheard
William say to Miss Nellie.

"This may be a thing in point," said the attorney, when
I had concluded; "but let me finish what I have to tell
you. The will was placed in my care, and I enveloped it
and placed it in my private drawer. When I heard of Mr.
Wilson's death, I reverted to my drawer, took out the envelope,
but found no will within it--only a blank piece
of paper there! You can hardly judge of my thrilling
surprise."

"Ah! some scamp, or interested person then, had played
you a trick?"

"Precisely. I was so taken aback that I was quite
nonplussed--more than 'thunder struck.' But after a
while I recovered my self-possession, and began to revolve
in my mind the proper course to pursue under the circumstances.
As good luck had it, I was alone, and nobody
knew my discomfiture."

"Do you entertain any special suspicions of anybody?"

"I am at a loss whom to suspect; but you give me a
valuable hint, perhaps, in what you have related. It
seems very probable that William Wilson could give me
light upon the matter, if so disposed. Nevertheless, I feel
certain that it was impossible for him to get access to my
drawer."

"But you have several clerks?"

"Yes, five; but I have full confidence in each of them.
None of these knew what the envelope contained, for I
never confide to anybody more than I think he has need
to know; and of the existence of the will none of my
clerks had any occasion to be apprised. I made the loss
known to no one; but locked up my drawer, and plunged
into my business in my usual manner."
//581.png
.pn +1

"You were wise in so doing. Did you notice anything
at all disturbed in your desk?"

"Nothing. It must have been carefully manipulated,
and opened by a skilful hand."

"And on reflection, you have no just reason to entertain
suspicion of any of the clerks?"

"No. I have studied them closely, but can see nothing
unusual, nothing guilt-like in the manner of any of them.
But thus outwitted, as soon as I heard of your re-appearance
in the city, the thought flashed upon me that perhaps
you could unravel the mystery."

"Well, now I have your story, I'll see what I can do.
Something tells me that that will can be found. Do you
believe in Fate? Sometimes I have premonitions which
come as suddenly as lightning, and prove in the end of
worth. I guess I shall be able to serve you."

After the usual leave-taking, the attorney departed, and
I leaned back in my chair, and threw my feet listlessly
upon the table in the room, and set about conjuring up
schemes. A score of plans flitted through my mind; but
the case was a perplexing one, and I knew not which plan
to adopt for action. But here Fate again; for in the
midst of my greatest distraction, I chanced to note on the
table a copy of the New York Mercury, of date a day or
two before, which I picked up for diversion, and running
almost unwittingly over a column of advertisements, my
eye lighted upon this:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"<sc>Let the Seeker after Knowledge take heed.</sc> <i>Will
will be pleased to know the</i> <sc>WILL</sc> <i>of the unwilling, at nine
o'clock, Monday night, next? for success and joy, perhaps,
await him.</i>


.ll -2
.rj
<sc>His Continental Friend.</sc>"
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

Looking back upon it now, I don't see why I was
startled at this. But I was. Perhaps it was because of
the frequent repetition of the word "will;" but so it was
//582.png
.pn +1
at any rate; and I thought I had a clew at last. "His
Continental Friend"?----

"O, I have it! The Continental Hotel is a place of
rendezvous. I'll watch and wait."

This much decided, I turned in reverie upon the beautiful
Nellie, and felt more than usual joy in the prospect
of being of avail to her, and, I confess, not a little ugly
towards William, whom, what I had seen of him had led
me to despise. But he was a fellow of some ability, and
must have been the prompter of the work of abstraction;
and, having money at times, might have corrupted one of
the clerks into his interest. Thus I reflected, till I became,
indeed, convinced. At the Continental I resolved
to be, at the time appointed in the advertisement, or before.

I was on hand at an early hour, watching all that passed.
The time went on very sluggishly, and I was getting nervous.
A quiet <target id='tn582'>stealthy-looking person came in at last, and
ordered a room for the night. I watched the number on
the register; and posting myself on the street, being partially
disguised, I waited till William should come, which
he did, in a half-intoxicated mood. He scanned the register
in a maudlin way, and sent up his card to the room,
which, as good luck would have it, was on the topmost
floor, so crowded was the hotel that night.

The servant who bore the card returned, saying,--

"He says, 'Send the gentleman up.'"

I waited till the clumsy steps of William sounded as
from on the second flight, when I quietly followed, increasing
my pace as I neared him; so that I was near upon
him when the door opened.

"Halloo, Wilson! Here all right! Well, I'm more than
glad to see you!" exclaimed the inmate, as Wilson entered,
and the door closed.

Tripping to the door, I listened, and heard William quite
distinctly, his cups having added emphasis to his somewhat
gruff voice.
//583.png
.pn +1

"Well, Mr. Roberts, my very legs tremble, for I feared it
might not be you here after all. I'd most forgot the name
we'd agreed on for the register, but I knew your handwriting.
<i>Was</i> it Hyde? I thought it was Hood we'd
fixed on. But no matter now. Here you are, and that's
enough."

Instantly that I heard the name Roberts, I knew it must
be the attorney's chief clerk, for he had spoken of this
clerk as having been longest in his employ, and you can
well understand how I became at once all ears.

"But you have that important paper all secure?"

"Of course I have, or I wouldn't have advertised. I
feared you might have left New York, and wouldn't get
the notice in time."

"But how did you get it--and when? Tell me the
story, my brave boy," said William, with the patronizing
voice of a new-made millionnaire.

"Never mind now--tell you some other time. It's
enough, isn't it, that it's here?"

"All right, then. Let's take up the 'business in order,'
as they say in Congress. How much shall I give you for
that precious will?"

"It <i>is</i> a 'precious' document, I assure you, Mr. Wilson,"
said the scheming Roberts. <target id='tn583'>"Do you know its provisions?"

"Yes, I know all about it; or all that's important; for
luckily I overheard most of it read. My blessed father
left everything of consequence to my cousin Nellie; but,
ah! ha! that will's got to be probated, and who's to do it?
That fireplace" (pointing to the grate in the room) "will
tell no tale, and here's matches. But fix your terms--what
shall I give you for the document?"

"One hundred dollars down, for I am about visiting my
old home in Canada, and want a little more ready cash;
and say, if you don't think it's too much, your promissory
note, made negotiable, but with a private agreement back
from me that you shall not be pressed to pay it till you get
in full possession of your estate, for ten thousand dollars."
//584.png
.pn +1
//585.png
.pn +1

.pm illo i_584 i_584.jpg 700px "RESCUE OF THE WILL."

//586.png
.pn +1

"A <i>little</i> 'steep'--aren't you, Roberts? But you are a
brave fellow, and it shall be done! Here's ink, I see, and
here's paper," said William, fumbling his pocket evidently
for an old scrap, for he seemed to meet delays. "There,
there's the note--now your agreement."

Papers rustled lightly on the table, and "All right," said
Roberts; "there's the document, read it at your leisure,
and do what you like with it."

At this point, in my eagerness, I had bent lower down
by the door, and discovered a small, old keyhole, for the
door had been evidently newly trimmed with locks, through
which I could see with some distinctness.

William read over the will; and with many oaths, and in
his delirium of success, losing sense of caution, half shouted,
as he swung the document in the air at the tip of his
fingers, and half danced about the room:--

"There, now! my blessed, sweet little child, cousin Nellie,
you're outwitted--and--you--are--in--my power!
Love me, and tell me so, or you shall beg. No! I vow I'll
buy your graces. I'll bring you to my feet, but I will
never marry you! Confound you! Roberts, give me a
match."

Roberts plunged his hand into his vest pocket, and
drew out a portable safe, took a match therefrom, and
struck it, handing it to William, whose hand trembled in
the flush of victory, as he touched it to the paper.

The unwise fellows had neglected to bolt the door,--probably
from the fact of being on the highest flight,--so
I had not the obstacle of a lock to overcome, as I quickly
turned the knob, and rushed in upon the astonished pair,
and snatched the paper from William's hand while only a
corner of it was burned.

"Ah, you scamps!" I exclaimed, "I am in the nick of
time, it seems. You are caught in the last and important
act. Do you think there's no God in heaven to watch
over innocents like your cousin Nellie?"

The look of stupid horror which the countenances of
//587.png
.pn +1
Roberts and William Wilson revealed, remains as fresh on
my mind as if it were only yesterday that I surprised
them.

I lost no time in getting the will safely into my pocket,
and bade them defiance. Roberts rushed out of the room,
as if he had been shot, and from that hour the strictest
search in Philadelphia couldn't discover him. Nobody
knows where he went. As for William, he was too much
overcome to stir, and I left the room with him in it; and I
didn't sleep that night till I had relieved myself of the possession
of the will, placing it in the attorney's hands.

Of course Miss Nellie had no trouble in getting possession
of her property, but she would not allow her now penitent
and subdued cousin to be pursued at the law for his
nefarious conspiracy. Indeed, she gave him nearly double
the amount his father had provided in annuity. However,
it didn't serve him long; for in less than six months from
that time, while partially intoxicated, and driving a fractious
horse, he was thrown from the carriage, and so injured
on the head that his broken constitution could not recover
from the shock, and he died in a few days.

And now comes what to me is the most cheerful part
of the story. One day, a couple of years after that eventful
night, being here, and meeting by chance a handsome
cousin of mine, Dr. Charles R., of St. Louis, who had just
returned from Europe, where he had pursued his medical
studies, in Vienna, and having only a short time to spend
with him, for I was obliged to be off early next morning,
I ventured to ask him to accompany me to the home of
Nellie, for she had bidden me to always call on her when
in Philadelphia. We went. She <i>is</i> very handsome, and
so is cousin Charles, and I reckon both discovered this
fact of the other instantly, and appreciated it, for Nellie,
though very kind and courteous to me, managed to occupy
herself mostly in entertaining "the stranger."

To cut the story short, we left the house duly.

"Why, John,"--for that is my name,--"why didn't
//588.png
.pn +1
you tell me beforehand what a glorious creature you were
going to see? I'd been a little more particular about my
dress, or probably refused to accompany you," said cousin
Charles, half complainingly, as we got well out of doors.

"Ah! ah! Charley,--aren't you glad, on the whole,
though?" said I, touching him under the chin, "that I
<i>didn't</i> tell you, my boy?"

"Indeed--no--yes--well, I don't know as I care,
after all; but <i>isn't</i> she elegant. And if I'm any reader of
human nature she's as good as she is beautiful."

I saw that he was <target id='tn588'>thoroughly "smitten;" and as we went
on to my hotel, narrated to him the story of the will. The
romance of the thing served to engage him the more.
Well, I needn't repeat all. They loved, and were married,
and are the happiest couple out of heaven, I reckon.

Such was my room-mate's tale, for which I thanked him,
and we both then managed to sleep thereafter. But perhaps
the reader will have curiosity to know what was the
peculiar advertisement which had drawn me to Philadelphia
at that time.

It was this:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"<i>Astor discounts, Wednesday, the 9th. So does
Independence Hall.</i>

.ll -2
.rj
<sc>Rudolph</sc>, Cashier."
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

"Astor" I had read by contrary. It meant "Girard,"
I thought,--Girard Bank. "Independence Hall" I construed
as signifying a place of meeting in front of that
building; and "Rudolph"--for this was the point--was
a notorious bank robber, on whose track I wished to get, by
the name of Ralph Seeker, among his "aliases," but Ralph
was his real name--"Rudolph" being the German for the
same; and doubtless I was right in my translation; but as
nothing came of that, as I have said before, I here leave
"peculiar advertisements" in general, to the unravelling
of the curious. But it is a science of itself, which, in its
subtleties, sometimes baffles the keenest wits. I am
//589.png
.pn +1
prompted, as I write, to add hereto, for the pleasure of
the curious reader, sundry of the "blind methods" (in
advertisements usually) by which one scoundrel intimates
to another his whereabouts, and what he has accomplished,
or where he would meet another to aid in some crime, etc.,
under circumstances which forbid their communicating
through the mail or by telegraph. But I have hardly
room in this article, already too long.
//590.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=colonelnovena
COLONEL NOVENA, THE PRINCE OF CONFIDENCE MEN.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
THE CONFIDENCE MAN, PAR EXCELLENCE; A REAL "ARTIST"--"COLONEL
NOVENA," "COUNT ANTONELLI," "GENERAL ALVEROSA," "SIR RICHARD
MURRAY" MAKES A VISIT--A MAN OF GREAT NATURAL ABILITY, WITH
"A SCREW LOOSE"--A BIT OF "PHILOSOPHY" (?)--THE MAN DESCRIBED,
VERSATILE, AGILE, BRAVE, DARING--THE COLONEL AS A
GALLANT--CURIOUS TALE ABOUT TWO SISTERS AND COLONEL NOVENA--PRESIDENT
BUCHANAN, PROFESSOR HENRY, GENERAL FREMONT, AND MR.
SEWARD OF THE NUMBER OF HIS FRIENDS--DISHONEST WAYS OF DOING
"LEGITIMATE BUSINESS"--A SHOCKING BAD MEMORY--THE COLONEL
AS A PHILANTHROPIST--COMES TO GRIEF--AT WASHINGTON, D. C.--SARATOGA
TEMPTS THE COLONEL--HIS SUCCESSES THERE--A CHANGE
OF CIRCUMSTANCES--A VALUABLE DIAMOND NECKLACE LOST--THE
GREAT MYSTERY--THE HISTORIC CHARACTER OF THE NECKLACE--THOROUGH
SEARCHING--THE SHREWDEST SCAMPS GENERALLY HAVE BETTER
<target id='tn590'>REPUTATIONS THAN MOST PEOPLE--TOO GOOD A "CHARACTER" A MATTER
OF SUSPICION--"MR. HENRY INMAN, ARTIST," IS CREATED--HEADWAY
MADE--THE NECKLACE COMES TO LIGHT, IN THE POSSESSION OF
A MOST REMARKABLE WOMAN--GOODNESS IN BAD PLACES--A LIVING
MORAL PARADOX--AN "UNFORTUNATE" GOOD SAMARITAN--THE GENERAL'S
SENSE OF HONOR WOUNDED--TO CANADA--DOWN THE RAPIDS
OF THE ST. LAWRENCE--A TOMB IN GREENWOOD--RENDERING TO WOMAN
HER DUE--A BLESSED CHARITY--WALL STREET CORRUPTS THE
MORALS OF THE NATION.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>"Confidence</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
"Confidence
.if-
men," in the usual way, are so common,--such
as the fellows who drop pocket-books, stuffed with
counterfeit money, in the streets of cities, in order that
innocent countrymen or uninitiated foreigners may pick
them up, and divide the spoils with an up-coming witness,
and give him all their good money in order to have a large
share in the poor or counterfeit money,--that I have hesitated
a moment over the caption I should give this narrative,
lest the reader should think I am about to introduce to him
//591.png
.pn +1
one of those common, every-day affairs. But, on reflection,
I cannot think of a more appropriate title than I have
chosen, for Colonel Novena <i>was</i>, of all the rogues and
scoundrels I have encountered in my professional life, the
confidence man, <i>par excellence</i>, as the French would say,
not by the "excellence" of his high character, to be sure,
or his moral worth, but by his artistic superiority.

The public will recollect, or such of them as enjoy
retentive memories of names will do so, how much was
said some years ago, by the public press, for a few days,
about a certain Cuban, a "Colonel Novena," "Count
Antonelli," "General Alverosa," and "Sir Richard Murray,"--for
by these names, as well as sundry others, was this
gentleman in his career known. His true name, as definitely
as I could ever learn, was Julian Cinquez; but even
that is doubtful, and it matters not. He was a man of
brilliant talents, indeed, great native ability; and the wonder
is that he did not attach himself to some honorable
profession, or follow some pursuit in life recognized as
legitimate; for he could not only have adorned any profession
which he might have adopted, but he might have
made an extensive fortune as well--or so we are apt to say
of like characters. Yet, to confess the truth, I am not so
certain that our moral reflections upon these matters are
correct. The fact that the man did not lead the life which
his talents apparently indicated that he might, is perhaps
evidence in itself that the world might misjudge him. He
might not have been able to "adorn any profession" after
all, for in such men's characters, there is obviously always
"a screw loose;" and for want of fixedness or tightness of
that same "screw," is it, perhaps, that the general machine
will not work. That may be the philosophy of the matter.

Colonel Novena was no small man in his way. He was a
handsome man, too, possessing a finely-shaped face, with
large, dark, not quite black eyes, and eyelashes such as
would arouse the enthusiasm of the master painters, and
which gave to those eyes that sweet, alluring expression
//592.png
.pn +1
so irresistible to women; or when reflecting the light of
anger from them, added a twofold horror to their expression,
enough to make the strongest men quail, for the man
then seemed a very demon. The colonel was about five
feet ten inches in height, elegantly proportioned, his form
being, perhaps, as nearly perfect, in every respect, as any
man on the wide globe could boast of. Grace, dignity, and
strength combined in it, and when at all aroused or excited,
Colonel Novena was as lithe and flexible as a cat, or better,
perhaps, a tiger. Notwithstanding the classic outlines of
his face, it possessed great mobility,--and having a comical
vein in his nature, Colonel Novena could imitate anything,
from the grimace of a pretty, simpering girl, to the
Falstaffian stolidity of a Dutch judge, and was one of the
most excellent of story-tellers, in consequence. In short,
Colonel Novena possessed all the talents and natural
"gifts" necessary to make a man the most acceptable
companion under any circumstances. He won his way
easily into everybody's heart, whom he considered worth
his notice, either socially or business-wise; by which I
mean, whom he regarded as of consequence enough to be
exploited upon or victimized; and he had a way of exciting
the sympathy of even officers of the law, when they felt
conscious of his guilt; and I dare say that there has seldom
ever existed a man so competent to play the <i>rôle</i> of
"Injured Innocence," as was Colonel Novena. It is not
surprising then that he ran so long a career of forgery and
false pretence of all kinds.

Colonel Novena knew the art of dressing well. He was
never over-dressed,--a fault of villains of his kind generally.
He was never too poorly dressed for the special
business he had in hand. His <i>rôle</i> of the gentleman of leisure
and wealth was incomparably well taken; and being
thoroughly educated, he acted the part of the literary
<i>savant</i> to perfection. On the prairies or frontier, he was
the most daring and hardy of backwoodsmen, and compelled
the admiration of his fellow-travellers or hunters for
//593.png
.pn +1
his daring and prowess. He was a genius, in fine, socially.
He seemed to need no "credentials" anywhere, save his
fine manners and honest-looking face. Yet he always took
care to secure the best letters of introduction everywhere,
and had his trunks full of such things, given him by the
great men of the land, such as President Buchanan, General
Fremont, Professor Henry, Chief Justice Taney, Corcoran
the banker, Mr. Seward, Andrew Johnson, etc.; for
he obtained them from leading statesmen of all sorts of
political faiths, from men of science, and from leading financiers,
and did not hesitate to demand the like of the most
notable ladies of the land.

Why Colonel Novena never condescended to marry some
one (or more, perhaps), of the ladies of great wealth whom
he numbered among his admirers, is a mystery to me,
for there was not one of them who would not have been
proud to own him as her husband. But perhaps the colonel
had some valid reason for remaining a bachelor, or for
assuming to be one; for there is no certainty, of course,
that he had not a wife somewhere, or that in several parts
of the world (for he had travelled all over it) there might
not have been found many ladies, each one of whom might
have claimed him. However, it is probable that such was
not the case, for "murder" of that kind "will out" in
time, as well as the real article of homicide, and I was
never able to learn that the colonel was married.

As an example of the wonderful fascinations of the colonel,
it may not be improper to relate here a tale, told me
by one who was once on terms of intimacy with the schemer
when he figured in Fifth Avenue society, and who vouched
for the truth of it, as largely based on his own observations
of the colonel's course with the ladies in question.

There were two sisters, the one a middle-aged widow,
very rich, and quite good-looking; the other, much younger,
very beautiful, but without money--poor, in fact. The
latter was very gifted as a colloquist, and was a charming
woman of society. The former was also a lady of many
//594.png
.pn +1
//595.png
.pn +1
//596.png
.pn +1
accomplishments. The parents of these ladies were dead,
and the elder and rich one had assumed the guardianship
of the younger, who lived with her, for she kept up her
house after her husband's death, and lived in great style.
The colonel made the acquaintance of the elder at a fashionable
party in Madison Avenue one night; and learning
that she was very rich, was, of course, sufficiently charmed
with her to seek admittance to her house, which he duly
effected. Calling upon the widow, he met her dazzlingly
beautiful young sister. The colonel was in a dilemma; and
it appears that he thought his only way out of it was to
make love to both.

.pm illo i_594 i_594.jpg 700px "THE TWO SISTERS COURTING COL. NOVENA, IN HIS \"LIBRARY.\""

The sequel of the story is, that Colonel Novena so
adroitly managed his addresses to these ladies, and gained
such power over them, that neither dared disclose to the
other the colonel's engagement to her, each sister enjoying,
in her strictly secret heart, the sense of a sweet victory
over the other; and in order to not expose her secret
by receiving the colonel alone too frequently, often asking
the other's presence on the colonel's calls.

Indeed, so fascinated did they become with the colonel,
that they often visited his bachelor's quarters together,
and there, in his library, spent hours at a time with him,
reading, chatting, partaking of wine, and so forth.

They were almost without restriction in their affectionate
caressing of the "dear colonel" in each other's presence;
for what of jealousy should either feel towards her
sister, when she held in her heart the sacred truth that
<i>she</i> herself was dearer to the colonel than her sister? This
complication of affairs continued for several months, the
parties meeting daily. The colonel had, of course, persuaded
each that the usual announcement of an engagement
should be foregone in <i>this</i> instance, for some wily,
but apparently good reason, which he gave; and the gossips
were at a loss to discover which of the two ladies he
loved the more, so they "married" him to neither for a
certainty.
//597.png
.pn +1

But finally an end came to the duplex affair, and the sisters
told the "secret" to each other; and the colonel was
upbraided by them both one evening when he called on
them. It is said, however, that notwithstanding the colonel's
dishonorable course, either of the sisters would have been
glad to secure him. But the colonel was now in a dilemma
again, out of which there was no such sweet escape as before.
The beautiful lady he did not want as an "incumbrance,"
and the "other charmer" could not fully command
him, with all her riches, without the society of the more
brilliant one too, which he knew he could not have if married
to the former; for the colonel well knew what tyrants
most women are to their husbands when they have them
in their power, and he preferred his freedom to the slavery
of a "boughten" husband's position.

The colonel was a bit of a social philosopher, and often
"put things" in novel and clever ways. It was a saying
of his, I was told, that "the condition of the average husband
is the most comical and pitiable to be conceived--a
slave to his wife or his family; a creature subject to all
sorts of indignities at home, and not allowed to go abroad."
"A model husband," said he, "is in these days little more,
at best, than the gentlemanly butler or purveyor for his
own house; has the privilege of paying all the bills, bearing
all the burdens, etc., while his wife and family feel as
'grateful' as pigs at their dinner." Of course the colonel
had in mind only the wives and families of fashionable
circles.

The colonel's weakness was for "trading," in all sorts
of ways, but especially in matters of considerable importance,
such as in real estate, rich merchandise, ships, and
stocks, as far as he could in the last. He made a good
deal of money, in a manner which was legitimate enough,
too, on the outside, but which always proved tricky. For
example, going into a place like Milwaukie, Wis., he readily
got himself reputed as a man of great wealth; would
contract to purchase three or four adjacent building lots
//598.png
.pn +1
on some valuable site, at some future time,--say, three
months thereafter,--for he always was about to send home
(to Cuba) for his money. The owner would enter into a
written contract to convey the property to Colonel Novena,
or his assigns, at the time named, for a given sum for
each lot. It was immediately noised about that the colonel
was going to build a splendid mansion on one of these lots,
and keep the rest for a grand lawn. Everybody talked
about it, and the colonel, being an architect as well as
everything else, produced drawings of the intended stately
palace. The citizens were all very anxious to have so
wealthy and tasteful a man settle in their midst.

By and by it was announced that the colonel had changed
his mind. His mansion was to be put up at some other
point, but upon two of the building lots he was going to
erect an extensive block for stores, offices, and so forth,
and the other two lots were to be sold.

These he would manage to sell for a very considerable
advance above the price contracted for, as the new block
was going to make them vastly valuable. Of course the
purchaser must take them before the time ran out; otherwise
the colonel, as he did not then want them, and scorned
to be a mere real estate speculator, would relinquish his
claim to them to the owner, but since he had gotten control
of them, might as well ask something for their increased
value.

As a by-play in connection with his various swindling
operations, these speculations in real estate served to divert
the colonel, as well as help fill his pockets. The
building lots being well disposed of, the colonel could
afford to let the original owner take back the two on
which the famous block was to be built, and the purchasers
of the other had only to wait till somebody or other
should put up the desired block, and raise the value of
their sites up to the imaginary height to which the colonel's
elegant and magnificent pretences had elevated
them; but then the poor fellows might have to wait years,
//599.png
.pn +1
for the colonel's block outshone, by far, all other possible
blocks.

The colonel had a way of ingratiating himself with the
teachers of female seminaries, finding out who of the
pupils were the children of the wealthiest parents, getting
acquainted with the young girls, taking a fatherly interest
in them, getting introduced to their parents, and
flattering them upon the genius and beauty of their children,
and at last borrowing very considerable sums (just
for temporary accommodation, till he could get remittance
through his New York bankers, of course) from the delighted
fathers of the beautiful girls; and it was impossible
to not honor the colonel's request under such circumstances.
But the colonel had a shocking bad memory,
and always forgot these little accommodations, amounting
to from three hundred dollars to a thousand dollars, according
to how much he had thought best, in a given case,
to ask for.

In the town of Elmira, N. Y., I think it was, the colonel
managed to borrow some thirty thousand dollars, all in the
space of four months; and when one of the victims came
to speak of the swindle to one of his most intimate neighbors,
and a cousin at that, I believe, he was astonished to
learn that this person could practically "sympathize" with
him. The colonel had professed to each that he had higher
respect for him than anybody else in the village, and had,
therefore, in his extremity, sought him to confide in; for
of all things in the world, he thought it the greatest shame
for a man of means to borrow money, he said, but his properties
in Cuba were of such a nature that his agents there
could not always turn them into money instantly on command.

So each of twenty or more persons, perhaps, became
the special and only confidant of the colonel; the only man
whom he would not be ashamed to inform about his present
"little unpleasant strait." It must have been rather
an amusing disclosure for the other nineteen when the
//600.png
.pn +1
twentieth victim came to expose his special honors, joys
and "profits" to them. Nevertheless, so engaging a man
was the colonel that the most excited and threatening of
his victims usually cooled down presently, if he had the
boldness to give the colonel "a piece of his mind." This
illustrates but partially the consummate skill and address
of the colonel; and the number of his victims in many parts
of the land was astonishing. The colonel bought ships
even, or interests in them, and disposed of the same, and
was always far away from the scene of his last fraud very
speedily. There was no limit to his audacity.

Having gathered together a pretty large fortune here,
the colonel left the United States, and went to Canada to
reside, not as Colonel Novena to be sure, but as "Sir
Richard Murray." He might have taken more money with
him there than he did; but the colonel was almost as free
in the use of his money as he was adroit in getting
it. In fact, he was a philanthropist in his disposition,
and aided a great many poor people, particularly children,
many of whom he sent to school, leaving funds with some
worthy persons as trustees, to continue them at school.
There was no element of meanness, in the usual acceptation
of the term, in the colonel, for all his misdeeds partook
properly of the nature of crimes, to greater or less extent.
At the South the colonel, I am told, fought several duels,--never
on his own direct account, but for sundry "friends,"
ladies especially,--and at New Orleans, his financial
"speculations" amounted to "something handsome." I
have been promised by a friend a narrative of the colonel's
exploits in New Orleans to be incorporated in this
article, but it has not been forwarded to me, and I must
now do without it.

I remarked above that the colonel went to reside in
Canada as "Sir Richard Murray." His residence was in
Montreal, but he had a country-house about seven miles
out of the city, where, in fact, he spent the larger part of
his time, in both winter and summer, and where, for two
//601.png
.pn +1
or three years he dispensed an elegant hospitality. His
splendid manners forbade any inquiry into his right to
wear a title, and his knowledge of the English language
was so perfect, that no one would suspect from his accent
his Castilian descent.

I have not been able to learn that the colonel ever "exploited"
in Canada. The States were his theatre; and
during a residence of a couple of years in Europe, he practised
his skilful "profession" considerably, I am authentically
informed, especially in England and Ireland.

But the colonel came to grief at last. He had gotten a
little "short," and having left Canada for want of means
to longer sustain his princely mode of living, betook himself
to St. Louis. I have forgotten to say that the colonel
was an expert, and usually very successful, gambler, but he
had no real love for the life of a gambler. There was
hazard enough in it, but it was of the tame kind. He
longed to do bolder things, and he did them. But the
colonel had no reputation at St. Louis, and was obliged to
turn to gambling, and for a few days he was successful,
winning quite large sums of money, which aroused the
resident gamblers to conspiracy against the handsome
stranger, in that place known as Count Antonelli, an Italian.
The result was, that the gamblers robbed him of
nearly all he had won, and the colonel beat a retreat from
St. Louis, and made his way, by degrees, eastward. Although
he encountered several "old friends" on the way,
whom he had, in the years past, swindled out of various
sums, they let him pass unheeded, or at most only warning
their friends against him.

But the colonel's star had in good measure become
dimmed, he found, and he made his way to Washington,
D. C., where he revived some old acquaintanceships, and
created new ones, which served him quite well for a time.
But the colonel, finally playing a pretty severe swindle
upon a person in high authority, and who prided himself
too much on his sagacity and general good sense to be
//602.png
.pn +1
willing that his folly in this case be made public, the victim
let him off, on his agreeing to leave Washington, and
'never show his head there again.' As the colonel could
thus escape a long term of imprisonment, he gladly accepted
the condition, and made the promise, which he
strictly fulfilled, for he never returned to that city.

The colonel made his way from Washington to Saratoga,
in the summer of 1862, where he made the acquaintance
of sundry New Yorkers, of a class a little below the most
distinguished, the colonel stepping down a little from his
usual dignity and carefulness as to the selection of his
society. With this class he "profited" considerably, and
it is said that in the winter of '62 and '63 he managed to
do a good business in various "speculative" ways in New
York, through introductions which he obtained from his
new-made friends of '62. However, it is to be remarked
here, that at Saratoga he had a new alias, that of General
Alverosa, of Palermo, an intimate friend of Garibaldi, but
who had been educated in England, which accounted for
his excellent understanding of the English language.

In tracing the colonel, by facts of his own confession,
for which facts I was indebted, in some measure, to the
late Dr. Jeremiah Cummings, of St. Stephen's Church, and
through things stated by others, I find spaces of months,
which I have to skip over. How the colonel got on to his
last year of 1864, I hardly know; but in the summer of that
year the colonel, it seems, became hard pushed. He had
wearied out such few of his friends as he had not swindled,
and was living from hand to mouth, dressing well yet, and
making some show of means, but unsuccessful at the gambling-table,
and elsewhere.

Finally, there was one day found missing from a house
in West 19th Street, where the colonel (rather, general at
this time) boarded, a diamond necklace, belonging to a
distant relative of Alexander Hamilton, of revolutionary
fame. The necklace was very valuable intrinsically, but
a part of it was composed of diamonds, which had been
//603.png
.pn +1
presented to Mrs. Hamilton by some admirers of General
Hamilton, English residents of some one of the West India
Islands, I forget which, on which General Hamilton
was born. These had been presented to her out of respect
to the general's great statesmanship, etc., he from republican
scruples having refused to accept them while occupying
an official position under the government.

It was at this time that my special attention was called
to Colonel Novena. I had known of him through the
press, as I hear of other great men, some of whom one
chances to meet, perhaps, but the majority of whom he
knows "at a distance." There was great search made in
the house for the diamond necklace; and upon no one in
the place had a ray of suspicion fallen. It was such a
mystery, in short, as to where that necklace had gone,
under the circumstances of its loss, that no one there
conceived it possible that it would ever be found; and
after the search in which everybody in the house took
part (and everybody was glad to have his own rooms
searched), it was thought preposterous to do ought else
than to sit down quietly, and "give it up" forever.

But the mere fact that to a portion of the diamonds was
attached a sort of historic fame, heightened, too, by the
considerations of family affection and pride, induced the
owners--(for the necklace was the joint property of a
lady, and a gentleman who had succeeded to his deceased
mother's interest therein)--to make some little effort to
hunt out the necklace. They had thought that nobody
who might have taken it would offer it for sale to the important
jewellers of the city, and it was too valuable to be
purchased by the smaller establishments. So they had
conceived that the diamonds would be taken from their
mountings, and sold separately, so as not to be identified.
This thought had seized the owners at the time the loss
was discovered, and had become, not a mere opinion with
them, but a sort of conviction. So it was that they at
//604.png
.pn +1
once gave up in despair when the search at the house
failed of the hoped-for result.

I was visited by the gentleman partner in the necklace,
who placed the matter before me with all the facts he was
possessed of, and I told him that I felt very certain that
some resident of the house had taken the lost treasures;
but it would be best for me to call upon him there, and
study the situation of the rooms, etc. An hour of the next
day was fixed upon, and I called; had opportunity to examine
the various rooms, and their relative situations. I
found that no ordinary thief, however skilled, would be
apt to run the hazard of penetrating the rooms from which
the necklace was taken; and, besides that, it must have
been somebody conversant with the place in which the
necklace was deposited, or somebody who had been carefully
instructed by some knowing one, to be able to steal
the necklace at the time it was taken; for it was missed not
a half hour after it had been taken from its case and redeposited
there by the lady half-owner. I made careful
inquiry about each of the boarders, and could fix my suspicions
upon no one in particular; yet I came to the conclusion
that it must be one of two of whom I was told,
Colonel Novena being one, or, rather, General Alverosa,
his alias then.

The owners of the necklace would hear nothing against
the general; he was the last person in the world to be
suspected. Indeed, they were so much affronted, and expressed
themselves so emphatically, bordering on bad
manners, at my suggesting the general as the possible
thief, that I was obliged to say, very firmly, that unless
they allowed me to take my own way about the matter, I
would not go a step further. They allowed me to take my
own course; but it was with ill grace they did so, after all;
for the general had made himself a favorite of this couple,
especially. He spent much of his time in their rooms
when at home. Indeed, it was this fact, in a measure,
which gave me a suspicion of him. Besides, they represented
//605.png
.pn +1
him as so perfect a character, that I confess I had
fears of him from that fact too; for I have found the most
wily rogues among men (and particularly among women)
to be those who enjoyed the finest reputations.
These make a good reputation a part of their "stock in
trade." But this was not all that influenced me in my
suspicions of the general. These parties, who had known
him for quite a long period of time, knew nothing of his
business pursuits, or if the general had any business at all;
and only judged, at one time, that he might be a lawyer,
from something he happened to say; at another, that he
might be a broker in Wall Street, and so on.

But this was no occasion of suspicion to them, for they
would have scorned to seem to wish to know anything of
a gentleman's private life or business. But to me there
was ground of suspicion in all this; and I concluded to
take board at the house, and study the general, work myself
into his good graces, and learn his places of resort,
etc. The owners of the necklace were finally convinced
that this was the true way, and were ready to pay my expenses
for a given time. I provided myself with neater
wearing apparel than I usually wore, and took board at
the house as "Mr. Henry Inman, artist."

Fortunately, one of my old school-fellows was both an
excellent portrait and landscape painter, and had his office
on Broadway. I told him what I was up to; and a sign,
new, but made to look a little old, and bearing my assumed
name, was placed on his door; and a few of his sketches,
some finished, others in process of completion, were assigned
to me to talk about as my own, if I had occasion to
introduce a special friend there. So that when "Mr.
Henry Inman, artist," secured board at the house in West
19th Street, he also had a studio to boast of.

I had selected this disguise of artist, because, in earlier
days I had possessed a little talent at drawing, and could
paint indifferently well, and had, to considerable extent,
cultivated a knowledge of the great masters, and could
//606.png
.pn +1
talk, as I was pleased to believe, decently well upon artistic
subjects; and I had learned that General Alverosa assumed
to be a great connoisseur of art.

Being established at my boarding-house, I easily made
the general's acquaintance, and in less than a week had
entertained him at my studio; gotten so well "into his
good graces," that he had no hesitancy in taking me to
sundry of his places of resort, gambling rooms, etc., though
he did not gamble much; and had found out that the
general loved the fair sex, if not wisely, yet too well,
and at last begun to get a clew to his career. But how I
was to learn more of him directly through himself, was a
puzzle; and so I set about watching the general's course
nights, after leaving me. I found that he frequented a
house of a peculiar nature in 29th Street; that the colonel
went there every night, but that he usually got home
some time towards midnight, staying away all night only
seldom.

Putting together all I knew of the general, I came to
the conclusion that he was indebted to some fair lady for
a part, at least, of his support; and so I managed to get
myself introduced to the house in question (for it was one
of those select places of pleasure which boast of their
exclusiveness and "high respectability"); and on my first
visit there encountered the general, who, finding me "surprised"
at being caught there by him, and on my begging
him not to expose me at our boarding-house, relaxed what
little restraint existed on his part towards me, and took
me into his confidence. The keeper of the house, an elegant,
courtly-looking woman, was his especial friend--his
wife, practically speaking; and I now could better understand
what motive might have impelled the general, if he
were indeed the thief, to steal the necklace.

I need not, indeed I should not, at any rate, go into details
in regard to how I found that Madame Alverosa was
in possession of that necklace; but so I found, and I had
but little trouble in recovering it from her. The general
//607.png
.pn +1
had told her that it had belonged, for nearly a hundred
years, in his family; and although it was a brilliant affair,
and she was specially fond of displaying her jewelry, yet
she rarely wore this, regarding it as something sacred;
and it was only by a little strategy which could not be
excused in anybody but a detective, that I found out she
had the necklace; and it was not till it was safely in
my possession, beyond the possibility of her immediately
reclaiming it, that I let her know I had it. When she
came to know the facts, she affected great indignation at,
and disgust for the general; but the woman loved him,
and she implored me to let him have a chance to leave the
boarding-house in West 19th Street before I should restore
the necklace to the owners; and she said she would
teach the general a lesson of honesty; that he had no
need of resorting to crime; and that he had only been
tempted to steal the necklace out of his love for her; he
wanted to see her wear and enjoy it. Such was her generous,
and probably correct interpretation of the matter.
She offered, too, to pay all the expenses the owners had
been to in ferreting out the necklace, my board, fees, etc.,
which she insisted on paying just doubly for, and which
she did pay.

In view of what I had learned of this woman's charities,
and her general disposition, I consented to her request.
She maintained no less than five orphan children at different
schools, paying all their expenses; frequently gave excellent
marriage outfits to such of her girls as, desiring to
reform, had chances to marry (a not unfrequent thing in
New York); and would not encourage any girl to stay in
her house; indeed, constantly besought them all to reform,
and seek some other mode of livelihood; and not seldom
did she succeed. But there are some of those "unfortunates"
to whom any other mode of life would be tame
and intolerable. These the Madame disciplined into decency
of deportment, and even attended to their education in
books and music, etc., in order to render them as competent
//608.png
.pn +1
as possible to take care of themselves when the days
of their physical attractiveness should have passed. She
taught them economy, too, making each keep account with
some savings bank.

In view of Madame's good qualities, I was disposed to
respect her love for the general, and consented, as I have
said, to let him withdraw from the boarding-house in 19th
Street before I disclosed to the owners that I had the
necklace in my possession. When I returned the necklace,
and reported who had taken it, and gave the recital
of my interview with the general at last, when I advised
him to withdraw from the house, the reader may essay to,
but he can hardly imagine the astonishment which was
expressed by the owners of the necklace and the household
when they came to learn the facts.

The general, of course, "took things easy" when he
found that I had trapped him, so far as I was concerned; but
he was greatly mortified in spirit to think that Madame A.
had learned of the theft, especially in view of his romantic
story to her about the long possession of the necklace
in his family. He at first declared he would never go back
to her, and avowed to me that this was the only crime he
had ever committed; but when I told him that I could not
consent to his leaving me with the impression that he had
deceived me, and opened his eyes to many things which
had been disclosed to me of his career by my fellow-detectives,
with some of whom during the time of my special
study of him I was in concert, the general (whom at the
time, by the way of the better assuring him of my accurate
knowledge of his character I addressed as "Colonel
Novena"), became very passive, and declared to me that if
I would not further expose him, he would leave New York
altogether, as soon as he could go.

Eventually he did leave; but not before he was fully
reconciled to Madame A., who, as she told me, read him a
moral homily which would last him for his life. And went
to Canada, where she followed him, on a pleasure excursion.
//609.png
.pn +1
In about two weeks after their meeting in Canada,
a trip was planned with some friends through the
Thousand Isles, and down the rapids of the St. Lawrence.
Madame A. was taken suddenly ill, but not seriously,
and staid over at a farmer's house, insisting on the
"general's" going with the rest; and overcoming his gallant
desire to linger with her, by representing to him that
he would spoil the pleasure of all the rest by tarrying behind.
So the Colonel Novena and the "General Alverosa,"
with all his other characters wrapped up in one individuality,
went on with the party,--which was the last time
Madame A. ever saw him alive.

Proceeding down the rapids in different boats, the party
had gotten nearly through all safely, when some mishap
occurred to the boat which bore "Colonel Novena," and
it was dashed to pieces in the rocks, he receiving so severe
a shock that, although an excellent swimmer, it was
said, yet he was powerless to save himself, and was
drowned. His body was recovered the next day; and
Madame Alverosa spared no pains in honoring his memory.
The body was taken to New York, and thence to Greenwood
Cemetery, where it now reposes beneath a stately
monument, which, however, bears neither the name of
"General Alverosa," nor that of "Colonel Novena," but a
name equally euphonic, and certainly nearer the "General's"
true one, if I am rightly informed; but Madame
Alverosa is entitled to my silence on this point, for she
asked it, and received my promise in response.

And here, in justice to the character of woman,--to the
sex whom we love to honor,--and in praise of an individual
of that sex, who by untoward circumstances, was led into
a course of life so base as that which Madame A. long pursued,
let it be recorded that a short time after the "General's"
death Madame A. abandoned her vile profession,
sold out the house she occupied and owned, with the condition
in the deed that it should never again be occupied
or let for a like purpose; established a fund, in the hands
//610.png
.pn +1
of proper trustees, for the aid of a certain class of unfortunates,
and withdrew to another part of the city, where
she leads the life of a respectable woman during the winter.
Her summers are spent at her elegant country seat,
near one of the most beautiful villages in Now Jersey.
And the Madame has declared to me that of all her varied
experiences in life, that which gave her the most pain was
the discovery that the general had stolen the necklace.
She had supposed that he gambled, and she was far from
being unsuspicious that he might commit forgeries sometimes,
or had done so in his career before she made his
acquaintance; but all this she looked upon as in the nature,
somewhat, of business.

"Wall Street gambles," she used to say;--"Wall Street
commits its forgeries, and practises false pretences all the
while, and men call these things there respectable. Why
may not others gamble on a smaller scale, and practise
their smaller cunning?"

Thus she justified the general against her own suspicions;
but she could never get over the theft of the necklace
by the "clever man;" and one day, when she was deploring
his conduct, and I suggested that she might have
the image of the necklace cut upon his monument, as a perpetual
reminder to her, when she visited the grave, of the
wickedness in the heart of "the best of men," the Madame
shrugged her shoulders with a half-approving smile, and
said,--

"Well, you may joke, if you like, but I know something
of men; they are all bad, the best of them; and General
Alverosa, with all his faults and his crimes, was a better man
than any other <i>my</i> eyes ever rested upon;" and she looked
<i>me</i> curiously in the face at that, as I bade her good day,
and went away, thinking that, perhaps, I was properly
enough rebuked, and that, may be, no better man had lived,
as surely no more remarkably gifted, elegant, and strange
one, than "Colonel Novena," had I ever met.
//611.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=circumstantial
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE: A KNOT STILL UNTIED.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
A ROBBERY--ONE OF THE FEMALE ATTACHÉS OF THE GREAT KOSSUTH--A
WIDOW LADY OF RANK IN HUNGARY--KOSSUTH'S SISTER--A BOARDING
HOUSE AT NEWARK, N. J., AND ITS INMATES--SUNDRY FACTS AND
CONSIDERATIONS--BEAUTY WINS--AN INVESTIGATION--SERVANTS EXAMINED--THE
PATENT-ROOF MAKER--"TRACING" A MAN--A HOLLOW
WALKING-STICK WITH MONEY IN IT--NO CLEW YET--A PATHETIC BLUNDER--REVELATIONS
IN DREAMS--A BIT OF PAPER TELLS A STORY--AN
IDENTIFICATION--THIEF ARRESTED--A SETTLEMENT MADE, WITH
CONDITIONS--A TRIUMPHAL VISIT TO THE WIDOW--A "WHITE LIE,"
AND AN ANNOUNCEMENT--DOUBTING--PERFECT EVIDENCE SOMETIMES
IMPERFECT--THE UNSOLVED PROBLEM; WHO DID THE ROBBERY?
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>In</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
In
.if-
August, 1858 (so the notes in my diary of that year
say, but somehow it seems to me as if it were more than
ten years before), I was waited upon by a beautiful Hungarian
lady, residing at Newark, N. J., to see if I could
render her any aid in ferreting out the thief who had
robbed her of eight hundred and forty dollars. She was
a most charming lady, and with her pitiable story won all
my sympathies. She came to the country with the sister
of the great Magyar leader, Kossuth, which sister was at
the time, as I understood the story, teaching a select
school in Newark, and the lady who called upon me had
been a teacher under her for a while.

She was very accomplished, but for some reason had
left her vocation as a teacher, and gone to making gold-lace
goods for some firm in New York, who were paying
her larger wages than she could make at teaching. (So
much more ready is the world to pay well for the brilliants
//612.png
.pn +1
which sparkle by the reflection of light from their surface,
than for brilliance of mind, which is a light unto itself,
and betokens in its possessor a wealth beyond that of
rubies and pearls.) She was very artistic, and in her happier
days had beguiled her time in learning many little
arts, which, in her exile and poverty in America, she turned
to good practical account.

Her lace-work she did at home, and she kept two or
three boarders besides, generally, together with an Hungarian
servant, a sort of slave, or attaché of her father's
house at home, and whom she felt obliged to watch over,
and an English girl. Her boarders were two Hungarians
at the time I made her acquaintance, and a middle-aged
American, from the West. One of the former was a lawyer,
having his office at No. 5 Beekman Street, New York,
and "dragging along," doing a little business in New York,
and a little also in Newark; a man of ability, and speaking
the English language well. I think he had, at one time,
been Kossuth's confidential secretary; at any rate, he was
quite distinguished for something in the Hungarian revolution.
It was at his suggestion that the lady had called
on me, and when she came to describe him,--for I had
never seen him, he having simply heard of me through a
brother lawyer, in whose office he occupied a desk,--I
at first suspected him of the theft in question. Another
boarder was a music teacher, who got on poorly enough,
and who, had it not been that some relative in Hungary
occasionally sent him a remittance, would hardly have
been able to pay his board bill, which was, I believe, but
five and a half, or six dollars a week.

These were comparatively old boarders. The third one
was a new comer; that is, he had been with the widow
about three months. He dressed pretty well, and represented
himself as the manufacturer of patent roofs, and as
having a business office on the corner of Bowery and Second
Street.

This was all the widow could then tell me about them.
//613.png
.pn +1
Her husband had died about two years before, after some
years of illness; and a little daughter and a son had died
before him, and not long after her arrival in this country;
and the burden of their and his illness and funeral expenses
had fallen upon her. Saddened by her misfortunes
here, and ever sighing for the "Fatherland," she had been
resolutely at work, since her husband's death, to accumulate
enough to return to Hungary with, and also to buy a
little cottage where she had spent most of her early childhood's
hours with her nurse, and which was situated near
the confines of the great park in which stood her father's
palace--a romantic spot, which she seemed to worship
with her whole soul, now that her sweetest treasures were
gone. Her description of the dear old cottage and its surroundings
was glowing, and even pathetic. Her father
had been a rebel officer, and his estates were confiscated
and sold, but sold in divisions, it seemed, and some relatives
had succeeded to the possession of the cottage.
This, she was sure, she could buy for no very large sum.
There would she go, and live, and die. That was her
widowhood's ambition, and she cheerfully toiled, early and
late, to achieve its realization. She had paid some debts,
which remained unpaid at the death of her husband;
had supported herself neatly and comfortably, and aided,
to considerable extent, not a few of her unfortunate countrymen,
the old attachés of Kossuth, but had saved about
eleven hundred dollars, inclusive of the eight hundred and
forty which had been stolen from her; and the loss of the
latter was to her a most heavy blow.

She was one of those brave, unflinching souls, who do
and dare on forever, without giving up in despair to, no
matter how untoward a fate; but while she uttered no
childish complaint, I could see that the loss oppressed her
very seriously. She said to me, indeed, that it was very
discouraging, and that she sometimes thought that she
would give up the further struggle of earning her way
back to her old home and purchasing the cottage, but settle
//614.png
.pn +1
down here, and only visit the old spot sometime--but
to do so would be distasteful.

This was all enigmatic to me, and of course I did not
ask her to explain; but I learned afterwards, what I presume
was its solution, that a wealthy widower, of some
political distinction as well as literary character, and living
at Morristown, N. J., had offered the widow his hand,
and heart perhaps: but such men do not often give away
their hearts. They buy wives with their money, and treat
them as their goods and chattels thereafter; which is a
convenient way of doing things, and does not wear upon
the purchaser's soul.

But Madame K. (the widow), who admired the man in
some respects, had learned the value of a great, noble love
too well to even trifle with her soul in this regard, and
could not consent to accept the wealthy widower's offer.
In view of the fact of this offer, she suffered from the loss
of her money more than she otherwise would have done;
for she was proud to have the widower, as well as everybody
else, know that she was self-reliant and successful;
and to be successful, it is necessary to be cautious and
prudent in all things; and the widow had not been prudent
in the disposal of her money. Indeed, she had lost
it through a sort of unpardonable carelessness, or rather
lack of caution, and this vexed her not a little.

My sympathies were greatly enlisted in behalf of the
beautiful widow; and without being willing to acknowledge
that my heart was touched by her facial beauty (for where
is the man in the world who would not scorn to be thought
susceptible to such a "trifle"?), I do confess that the
widow's charming address and manners won me over to
her cause with a force which I thought a little peculiar,
and I resolved to do all I could to hunt up the thief, and
find the money, and perhaps not charge the beautiful
widow a cent for my services (if I <i>must</i> confess the whole
right here).

Armed with such high resolve, I went over to Madame
//615.png
.pn +1
K.'s house the next day to tea, the time when she would
have returned from her necessary business trip that day
to the gold-lace house for which she wrought; and found
her there ready to receive me, and point out the place
where she had kept the money stolen. I should say here,
that the theft had been committed five days before, and
some effort had been made on the part of Madame K. to
discover a clew to the thief.

Madame K. had, in her sitting-room, a curious old "secretary,"
which had been brought out from Hungary by
some exiles, and which--since it exactly resembled one
in her father's library or studio, and at which she had so
often sitten and wrought out her lessons, written her
school-girl "compositions," and made her early efforts in
epistolary graces--she had bought. This secretary had
close-locking double doors, in each of which was, as if it
were itself a panel, a mirror, as a middle piece, with
plates of deftly chased glass above each mirror; and the
glasses were opaque, so that the doors might, in one
sense, have been said to be solid. Indeed, I think the
whole mirror and ornamental glass plates were backed by
a panel of wood.

The secretary was a queer compound of strength, and
more or less bad taste, as well as about the same quantity
of good taste. The inner work was all curious,--sly
boxes; boxes within boxes, etc., and the faces of each
carved with the heads of lions, tigers, and so forth, of the
natural order, as well as with all sorts of things of a mystic
nature, as well as some never thought of before save
by the special carver of these special faces. Everything
about it looked secure, but, alas! it would not protect its
contents against a cunning thief. But I saw that it must
have been somebody who was somewhat acquainted with
the interior of the secretary to have readily abstracted
any of its contents without disturbing things, in the short
space of time between the discovery of the loss and the
fact of the presence of the money there, just a little before;
//616.png
.pn +1
for I had determined matters so far as to learn this point,
namely, that the money had been taken from a purse in a
certain drawer, and the purse itself left.

The money consisted of bank bills principally, with fifty
dollars in gold--two tens and six five-dollar pieces. This
drawer had a peculiar lock, a part of which turned around
three times before the key could drive the bolt, so that the
person unlocking it must have had time to study this, or
had known it before. There was the outer key, too, the
key of the secretary's doors. On inquiry, I found that
this key was hung up on a little tack at the back of the
secretary. It might almost as well have been left in the
lock. The lock of the doors, too, was peculiar, and only
the smallest of keys could open it, and it would have been
difficult to pick. Probably somebody who knew where to
find the key had opened it.

The result of my investigation was the conviction that
some resident of the house, or some frequent visitor, had
taken the money; so I asked Madame K. to call up the
younger servant. The old one was beyond all possible
suspicion; and I convinced myself that either the servant
was guiltless, or that if guilty we could never prove her so,
unless by chance we should find the money on her; so I
had arranged, before her coming in, to be writing at a
table, and while in conversation with her, of such a style
that she could not possibly conceive that we had the remotest
suspicion of her, I asked her, in a careless way, to
hand me some writing paper out of the desk, and the
bungling mode in which she managed the key of that
peculiar lock convinced me that she did not take the
money, unless when the door had been carelessly left
open; but Madame K. was very sure that she was never
guilty of such carelessness, and I was disposed to accredit
her self-judgment.

I took possession of everything in the drawer, a purse,
some old papers, some letters; one letter particularly attracting
my attention, a corner or strip of it having been
//617.png
.pn +1
torn off. I asked Madame K. about this torn letter. She
could give me no information about it. It was a business
letter written to her late husband, and dated back some
three years. It was written in English, but by a German
friend of the late Mr. K., residing then at Cincinnati, Ohio.
There was the unmistakable German form of the letters;
and I know not what should have "come over" me just
then, for I am not a believer in the interference of intelligent
spirits, and I fear I do not believe more than is
necessary of ancient or modern "inspiration," but I said
to the widow,--

"Madame K., I feel as though we were going to find
out, sooner or later, who took the money, and I hope we
shall get the money back, too."

Of course her eyes sparkled a little with sudden hope,
excited by my confident manner of speaking, but they
dropped before she replied,--

"But, sir, <i>I</i> dare not hope so, for the disappointment, if
you should not find the money, would be worse than the
loss original" (for madame still transposed some of her
English words according to her native idiom). "But you
will be a vary ex<i>cee</i>-lent man if you do find it," added she,
with a most provoking smile of encouragement.

I searched the boarders' and servants' rooms, with madame,
most thoroughly, but unavailingly, and told her she
must keep quiet, and wait for some circumstance to develop
itself which might put us on the right track; and
that, meanwhile, I would trace out the patent roof-maker
in his quarters in New York.

From something which madame told me, and from the
fact of seeing an old, and pretty well worn pack of marked-back
playing cards, and some other indications of a sporting
man, I expected to find this fellow's "work," not so much
<i>on</i> roofs as under them. But I found he had really an
ostensible business, and had an office,--a very small one,--in
which he had three or four little houses, of the size of
small dog kennels, the roofs of which were covered with
//618.png
.pn +1
his patent composition, and he had also some four men at
work; but he did not work much. He hardly took the
trouble to supervise his men's work, but charged so much
a day for their time, and paid them less, living on the difference,
and thus keeping up appearances, while he was
trying to sell out his "right" to somebody who might be
found stupid enough to give him as much as he paid
for it.

I found that some of his associates were gamblers and
other kinds of sporting men, and that he kept his best
suit of clothes in a wardrobe at his office, and dressed
more elegantly in New York than he did in Newark,
where the clothes he wore were whole, neat, and good
enough. This flashy dressing in New York not only suggested
vanity, but some cunning, I thought, showing the
man to be capable of some secrecy and diplomacy. I pursued
my investigations into his character, not only in New
York, but in Ohio, where he was born, and raised. He
came from the beautiful town of Dayton, and his parentage,
and relationship there, were highly respectable. The
young man's countenance was in his favor. He looked
honest and good-hearted, and I found that he dealt with
his men as he agreed. But he would be a sorry fool who
should trust much to appearances in a large city like New
York, where the greatest scoundrels are the most fascinating
men and women.

But I confess my mind oscillated considerably between
suspicions of this young man's guiltiness and the inclination
to believe him innocent. I found he spent considerable
money, and I found, too, where he sometimes made a good
deal in gambling. He was one of those unfortunate beings
who enjoy good luck enough, now and then, to constantly
whet their hopes, and make their severest losses only
prompters to more earnest trials of the "fickle goddess."

I continued to trace him back and forth between Newark
and New York, which I was enabled to do almost
daily, through the kindness of a friend who resided in
//619.png
.pn +1
Newark, and came daily to New York to his business.
This man talked with him about the widow's loss, for
which the young roof-maker expressed great regret; said
Madame K. was a fine lady, worked hard, and he wished he
was able to make up her loss to her in some way.

When asked if he suspected anybody, the poor music
teacher in particular, he expressed himself as unwilling
to suspect anybody, and declared that he could never believe
the music teacher guilty, except under the most
positive evidence. He was too simple a man, he said, to
do anything of the sort; a man who had no bad habits to
indulge, and one of that stamp whom the possession of
eight hundred dollars, however he might have obtained
it, would have driven crazy.

I managed to get entrance into the young man's office
in New York, and make careful examination of everything
there, such clothes as he had in the wardrobe, and
everything else, even to a hollow cane, or walking-stick,
in which, to my surprise, I found money--good money,
but nothing corresponding with any of the bills lost by the
widow, which were nearly all large ones, with a few small
ones,--all the latter the issue of a Newark bank. Finding
the money in this hollow cane made me suspicious of the
man's general character. Why carry good money in such
a "purse"? It would be a convenient thing to conceal
counterfeit money in, I thought; and then I said to myself,
"Why not good to keep stolen money in too?" and
finally I answered, "Yes, and good money too;" for not
one person in ten thousand would ever think to look in
such a place for money. Besides, the young man's name
was engraved upon the silver head of the cane, and that
fact ought rather to ward off suspicion against him.

In these and like ways I was always fluctuating in my
mind regarding the young roof-maker; and as I had pursued
matters under the inspiration of my sympathy for
the widow in her loss (with a slight prompting, I confess,
on the score of her bewitching ways and her delicate beauty)
//620.png
.pn +1
quite beyond what I would have felt warranted in
doing in another case under like circumstances; so I told
the madame one day, when she called at my office, as she
not <target id='tn620'>unfrequently did, that I thought we must give up the
search; that probably nothing but the death-bed repentance
of the thief would ever disclose who took the money,
and that all had been done which could possibly be done, I
thought, to ferret out the thief. It was easy for him to
get the larger bills changed to small ones in New York,
and get the Newark money out of his hands, and as for
the gold, there was no way to identify that; that either
one of the boarders, or some visitor, had probably taken
the money; and so much time having passed since it was
taken, that we might as well expect the dead to rise that
day in Greenwood as to expect to find the thief or the
money.

At this madame burst into tears over the loss of the
money, as I supposed, and I tried to calm her; but she
wept quite frantically. I had never seen her before save
in a calm, dignified state, and knew not what to make of
it; but she said,--

"Not for the gone money, I weep, sir; but what you
said of the dead in Greenwood: there are all mine."

I had known that her children and husband were buried
in an obscure quarter of Greenwood, but forgot that
fact when I spoke, and stupidly made allusion to that
cemetery. The madame's tears re-strengthened my sympathy;
and she told me a dream, too, which she had had
three or four nights before, with such unction, that while
I laughed in my sleeve at it, I could not, for the life of me,
but express in my face believing astonishment. She said
at the same time that she did not believe in dreams at all,
yet this one was so startlingly realistic in its personages,
localities, etc., that it seemed to her more a veritable history
of facts than the shadowings of a disordered imagination
in semi-sleep. The substance of the dream was, that
I had been over to her house again, had made another
//621.png
.pn +1
search, and in the room occupied by the music teacher and
the young roofer (for they occupied the same room, the
largest in the little house, but had separate beds); and
that while I was shaking some clothes belonging to one of
them, she could not tell which, down fell a five dollar gold
piece, and dropped on the carpet at a point exactly equidistant
from the two beds, after rolling on the carpet in a
small curve. Madame derided the dream while she told it,
yet it evidently had made some impression on her mind; discovering
which, together with my re-aroused sympathies
for her over her widowhood and the loss of the money, I
assured myself that I ought to make further trial, and
thought I would revisit her house and make further search.

I did so two days afterwards, at my first leisure, and
reviewed the whole affair there. In searching the roof-maker's
room again, which I did out of a sort of deference
to the widow's dream, but without the slightest expectation
that I should find any clew to the thief, I came across
a garment which I had not seen before, either in his closet
there or in the wardrobe at his office in New York. It
was an old vest, and, strange to say, madame did not remember
to have ever seen the roof-maker wear it. Yet there it
hung with his clothes. Perhaps it was the music teacher's;
but at any rate we, in a sort of listless way, examined it;
finding nothing but a few cloves and spices in it, such as
too many young men carry in their pockets in order to
draw therefrom disguises of a bad liquor-smelling breath;
and a crumpled piece of letter paper, quite black on one
side, which I was inclined to throw aside; and I should
have done so, except from my habit (rather than judgment,
in this case) of examining everything.

Unfolding this, which proved to be a strip of nearly triangular
form, about two and a half inches wide on the line
of one "leg," by four or five inches by the other "leg," I noticed
some letters and words on the piece. It was evidently
a part of a letter torn off; and I reflected that I had seen
writing of that same style somewhere, and turning up the
//622.png
.pn +1
left-hand upper corner of the piece, to flatten it out more, I
discovered the letters "ati," upon it, and it flashed into
my mind at once where that piece came from. I made no
remark to the widow at this point, but told her we would
now take the vest in charge, and go down and look into
the secretary again. She withdrew from the drawer the
letters and papers she had shown me on my first visit,
and which I had charged her to keep safe, and I was not
long in finding the proper letter (the one I have described
heretofore), and adjusting the torn piece to it, it fitted exactly,
and the rest of the word--Cincinn--was added to
the "ati," and place of date; and then I called Madame K.'s
attention to it. My conclusion was, that the thief had, in
some way, by accident torn that letter at the time he took
the money, and that somehow the piece had gotten into
his pocket and he had forgotten it. But it was carefully
folded, as I saw, when I essayed to fold it back to the
shape I found it in.

While I was doing this, the widow exclaimed,--

"Why Mr. ----, I remember all about it now. I tore
the letter to get a piece to wrap up the two ten dollar
gold pieces in;" and I saw it was just the fit size as folded.
So we had traced the gold pieces into the roofer's vest
pocket; and all the rest was clear now. He was the thief.
But how should we prove the vest to be his, if he should
deny it? I did not wish to leave any loose place in the
evidence, and I knew well enough that the roofer was
"sharp," and I began to conceive that he would not be
easily caught. It would not do to speak to anybody in
the house to inquire if he had been seen to wear that vest,
for he might be innocent, and the widow did not wish any
of her boarders to know that another one was suspected;
but fortunately on the inside of the neck of the vest was
a little piece of silk, on which, in imitation of needlework,
was stamped the maker's name, "H. Schneider, Merchant
Tailor, 565 Sixth Avenue, N. Y.," as I made it out with
some difficulty. I rolled up the vest in a paper, bade the
//623.png
.pn +1
widow good afternoon, and informing her when she would
probably see me next, left.

The next day found me at Mr. Schneider's, the merchant
tailor's. He recognized the vest as having been made by
him a year and a half before or so, and thought he could,
after a while, think for whom he made it. He turned over
his books of measurements or orders, to help revive his
memory; meanwhile some of his "jours," doing work at
home, came in to return and take work, and he inquired
of each of them if he made this. One of them remembered
the work, and described the man for whom it was
made, he having been put to the trouble of making an
extra inside pocket. He described the man, and Mr.
Schneider was at last able to remember his name, which
was that of the roofer; and turning to his index found the
name, and the order for the identical vest among other
things.

I considered the evidence complete enough; and going
to Newark next day, and providing myself with a local
officer, then betook myself to the widow's house, and there
awaited the return of the young roofer. He came at an
unusually late hour that night; and we called him into the
parlor,--the madame, the officer, and I,--and I asked him
first if that was his vest, showing it him.

"Yes," he replied at once, "that's my vest; but I haven't
seen it before in a good while; where did you get it?"

"Among your clothes in the closet, yesterday," I replied;
"and it's of no use for us to make words about it. We
are here to arrest you for stealing the madame's money.
We've traced out all necessary evidence, traced the gold
pieces into your pocket, and got the tell-tale piece of
paper in our possession which you foolishly overlooked,
but left in your vest pocket. We want to settle the matter
now, as the madame needs the money more, perhaps,
than the law needs you."

The roofer looked at me with blank astonishment, and
declared his innocence in a way which would have convinced
//624.png
.pn +1
all ordinary people. None but an old experienced
officer could well have refused to believe the man innocent.
But I told him it was of no use; that he would be
arrested and tried if he did not settle; "and, you see," I
added, "that even if you were innocent you could not
withstand the evidence we have against you, unless you
could prove an absolute <i>alibi</i> on the day the money was
taken; but, unfortunately for you on that head, we can
show that you were here more hours than usual that
day."

He still persisted in declaring his innocence, and acted
for all the world like the most innocent of men. I told
him he was a capital actor already, and that, perhaps, it
would prove the best thing which could possibly happen
to him to be caught thus early in his career of crime. He
grew apparently indignant; admitted that he gambled a
good deal more than he ought to, but declared that he had
never been guilty of crime of any sort, and never intended
to be; and, said he,--

"I would not have the stigma of the suspicion fixed
upon me for all the wealth of New York. It would kill
my mother if she came to hear of it, and my father would
disinherit me; and I am expecting a good fortune from him
some day. I've got into bad habits enough; but I don't
drink at all, and I am guilty of no crimes."

I reminded him of the cloves and spices we found in
the vest pocket. He made strange of this, and said somebody
else must have worn the vest; "that he had no occasion
to disguise his breath; that he neither drank liquors,
had a foul stomach, or decayed teeth;" and I confess his
mouth did look wondrously clean and wholesome.

But of course I was not to be caught with the chaff of
protested innocence; and, finally seeing his situation, he
thought best not to stand trial, but to settle up, and pay
the widow ("under protest, however," he said) for what
she had lost, if we would agree to never mention his name
in connection with the transaction, and if the widow would
//625.png
.pn +1
allow him to continue to board there for two or three
months after she should report that she had finally found
the money in another drawer. In that way the very fact
of the theft would be concealed, and his reputation be uninjured.

We consented to all this; and as his money was in New
York, he agreed to go home with me that night, and remain
under arrest at my house, and raise the money the
next day, I to accompany him to the bank.

He had some fifteen hundred dollars on deposit in
the Chemical Bank, as it seemed, when we went there;
that was his balance, and he had had some three or four
thousand there as his original deposit. He paid over to
me the eight hundred and forty dollars; and on my
reminding him that the widow had had a great deal of
trouble, and would have a large bill to pay for services,
he petulently asked, "How much?" and I said, "Suppose
you make it nine hundred in all." He handed me sixty
dollars more, with an angry, nervous look; and said it was
"a hard thing for an entirely innocent man to be obliged
to do; but the evidence looks very bad against me, or I
would fight the case till I die." I smiled at him, as I was
wont to smile at the guilty, who think to cheat one with
words of protested innocence, and bade him good morning,
and wended my way speedily to Newark, to report to
the widow, and "settle up."

She insisted upon my taking just twice the sum I
charged her, and was overjoyed at getting back her
money, which she took care to put immediately in bank,
and said she should never have any more money by her
again than necessary for current expenses. She dreaded
to have the roofer come back to board; but said she would
abide by the bargain, and she did. He returned as usual
that night. Everything went on as before. Madame announced,
as was agreed, that the money had been found in
another drawer (where, by the way, she, woman-like, insisted
that it should be first put by me, in order that she
//626.png
.pn +1
might tell a "white lie" instead of a black one about it);
and after the boarders had gratulated her upon her good
fortune in finding the money, nothing more was said about
the matter. The young roofer continued to board with
her, according to the agreement, for some two months,
and then left for quarters in New York.

His conduct at the house was perfectly exemplary; and
when I saw the widow, on an occasion about a year after,
she expressed her satisfaction at having taken no steps
at law against him, for the theft, and said, that after all
she sometimes would think, now and then, for a minute,
that he was innocent; "but then, I think immediately,
how absurd!" said she; "and I pity him; but I do believe
he will be guilty never of such a crime again." She told
me, too, that he had called on her two or three times during
the year, and made her pleasant visits. Not a word
passed between them about the money.

But the reader must not be over-surprised when I inform
him, that about two years after the time I last spoke
of above, I found in the examination of another case that
the young roofer was, as he always had declared, entirely
innocent of the theft, and that the Hungarian lawyer,
one of the boarders, well knew that the roofer was innocent,
and who was the guilty party, at the time he
sent the widow to me. But this latter case has no special
connection with the one I have here narrated, and I leave
it for another time, stopping simply to say, that circumstantial
evidence, while in its general character it is often
more reliable than the oral testimony of living witnesses,
who may be prejudiced or bribed, is nevertheless sometimes
too strong, proves too much, and is liable to be misused.
I have known several instances of this kind in my
experience.
//627.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=counterfeitmoney
THE COUNTERFEIT MONEY SPECULATORS.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
"MONEY"--THE COUNTERFEITERS' MORAL PHILOSOPHY--THE CUNNING
OF BANK BILLS--NO VALID BANK BILLS ISSUED--A TRICK OF THE
BANKS TO EVADE THE LAW--SWINDLING UNDER "COLOR OF LAW,"
AND IN DEFIANCE THEREOF; A VAST DISTINCTION--COUNTERFEITERS
AS "PUBLIC BENEFACTORS"--THE REGULAR COUNTERFEITERS EMBARRASSED
BY THE BOGUS ONES--MR. "FERGUSON'S" MARVELLOUS LETTER--COUNTLESS
COMPLAINTS--THE "HONEST FARMER" OF VERMONT,
AND HIS SPECULATION WITH THE COUNTERFEIT MONEY MEN--WHAT
HE SENT FOR, AND WHAT HE GOT--A SECURELY DONE-UP PACKAGE--A
"DOWN-CELLAR" SCENE--THE "HONEST FARMER'S" CONFUSION--A
BIT OF LOCAL HISTORY RELATING TO THOMASTON, CONN.--THE
HONEST OYSTER DEALER THERE, AND THE NINETY DOLLARS
"C. O. D."--A QUESTION UNSETTLED--HOW THE "HONEST FARMER"
OF VERMONT CHEATED ME AT LAST.
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>So</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
So
.if-
long as a false "representative of value" is made a
"medium of exchange," whether we call it "money," or
what not; or whether it be made of gold, silver, or paper,
or any other material, so long, probably, will it, in all its
degrees of professed value, be counterfeited; and shrewd
men, men who possess logical discrimination enough to
see that one humbug is no worse in principle (though
worse, perhaps, in the degree of bad principle) than
another, will always be devising "illegal" plans of making
money, as subtle and keen, almost, as the regular banking
business.

It is probable, I think, that nothing more clever in the
way of cheating or robbery will ever be invented than
the issuing of paper money by private banks; for the business
is so adroitly managed that it is highly respectable,--which
cannot exactly be said of some other modes of cheating.
A bank president and the cashier command much
//628.png
.pn +1
respect in the city or the country village, and conduct
their business openly, too. Indeed, they are usually magnates
in the community in which they reside, and are intrusted,
to large extent, with other people's money, while
the unfortunate fellow who cannot procure a proper bank
charter, and so has to content himself with running illicitly
a humble faro bank, is apt to be frowned upon by the community.
Perhaps a more pertinent example of the inability
of the masses to discriminate in moral affairs, could not
well be suggested.

The country is flooded with counterfeit money, especially
of the "fractional currency" kind. Everybody
takes it, and nearly everybody who has a ten cent, or
twenty-five cent, or fifty cent "representative of value,"
of the spurious kind, lets it pass on, if it will. The public
conscience is not disturbed by these little things; and
there are a great many persons who let the one dollar and
five dollar counterfeit bills which they chance to receive,
"go on doing their accustomed good," into the hands of
others. This course is illegal, and therefore "immoral,"
and not right; and in another sense it is immoral, because
it is unjust and thievish in its character. But then, as
some simple people may be surprised to learn, nearly all
the issues of private banks are also thievish and unjust.
Bank bills are not generally issued according to the requirements
of the law, and are, therefore, not even legal
money, and are of no more real worth than a counterfeit
bill, so long as the latter passes. It is in their negotiability,
or the passing thereof, that bank bills are valuable or useful
as a means of exchange. The counterfeit bill is just
as convenient so long as it does the work of "passing."

I do not know what is the fact regarding the private
banks of Connecticut, for example, nowadays; but a few
years ago an eminent lawyer of that State told me that he
presumed there was not a single bill legally issued by
any of the Connecticut banks, the circulation of which
amounted in the aggregate at that time to millions of dollars.
//629.png
.pn +1
The law of the State of Connecticut limited the
issue of bills by any bank to not over ten times as much
in representative amount as the "specie or bullion" which
the given bank had constantly in its vaults. If the bank's
capital was, for example, $200,000, but invested in real
estate, then the bank could not properly issue a single
dollar, unless by some means it possessed itself of specie
to hold in its vaults; even then evading the spirit of the
law. But my friend, the lawyer referred to, informed me
that none of the banks complied with the rule of keeping
the requisite specie in its vaults. Suppose a bank's issues
amounted to $300,000; to respect the law it would have to
keep $30,000 specie on hand. Is it reasonable even to suppose
it would do so when it could readily loan the $30,000
to parties in New York at seven per cent. interest, and
thus make them "earn" $2,100 a year? Not at all; and
the banks did not heed the law.

But there were Bank Commissioners, whose duty it was
(and there are the same still, I suppose) to see to this
matter, together with others relating to banks. They
visited the banks once or twice a year. When about to
make a visit, they sent word to the bank officers when to expect
them, and the officers of a given bank in Hartford or
New Haven, for example, went to other banks and borrowed
from several, for the time being, specie enough in the aggregate
to make a "show" with. As the commissioners,
after visiting one bank, and making an examination, were
about to leave it and go to another, the specie found
in the bank examined, was sent off to the other bank,
and there did service again; and so on through the series
of the city banks. The isolated country banks, like that
at Litchfield, had notice of the advent of the Bank Commissioners,
and sent to the city banks for a temporary loan
of the required specie.

Thus it was that the banks conducted their business
illicitly, and it is probable that at no time was a single
dollar of their issues properly predicated, and every dollar
//630.png
.pn +1
was therefore illegally issued. But the bills passed,--passed
as well as undiscovered counterfeit bills,--and
were, in reality, just as fictitious and illegal. But the
banks being more sharp, and having more facilities for covering
up their iniquity than have the counterfeiters, succeed
in swindling the people, year after year, without
detection, while the poor counterfeiters are frequently
caught and punished, and their "capital" (dies for "making"
the money, paper, etc.) is destroyed; and thus their
business is interrupted, very much to the detriment of its
profits, and their laboriously-earned skill, as "business
men," made as nought, and all their valuable time in perfecting
themselves in their business also lost. It is sad
to reflect upon this; but the picture would be sadder, perhaps,
if added to these irregular swindlers, were the regular
bank swindlers of the land.

So when one comes to analyze matters, no great moral
distinction is found between two persons, one of whom
swindles under "color of law," while the other swindles in
defiance of law. The latter is perhaps the braver (though
less sagacious) man of the two. It is, after all, only a
question of taste or expediency; and so is it that the
great counterfeiters think. Officers arresting these men,
frequently find them ready to defend their cause "on principle."
They always avow themselves "as good men as
the bankers," and they frequently declare themselves public
benefactors, in that they make money plenty, and relieve
the stringency of the money market!

"The only good of paper money," once said a great
counterfeiter to me, "is to pass; a counterfeit bill is just
as good for passing as a genuine bill; and if you folks
would let us "private bankers" alone long enough to give
us time to perfect our business, we should be able to produce
"goods" so perfect that nobody would find any fault
with them, and all would feel grateful to us. But it costs
us a great deal to get well started in business; and just as
we are beginning to thrive, you step in and break us up!"
//631.png
.pn +1

The man to whom I allude was <i>serious</i> in what he said.
Of course he was lacking in moral perceptions, and was, in
one sense, demented, or a "great fool;" for he could not
see the moral difference between one kind of robbery and
another one just like it in principle. I pitied the man's
moral obliquity, while I handed him over to the jail-keeper
to await trial. (I am sorry to say that the fellow, for some
reason, was never brought to trial. The District Attorney
"<i>nolled</i>" the case, although the evidence was clear enough
against the "private banker." I half suspect that the attorney
admired the fellow's reasoning, and sympathized
with him.)

Under the circumstances, it is not then strange that a
large number of persons of excellent talent, are engaged
in counterfeiting, or in the distribution (or "shoving,"
to use the technical phrase), of counterfeit money in this
country, and the distributors are to be found in all classes.
I have in my mind's eye, as I write, an "honest farmer,"
in a certain town in the State of Vermont, who manifested,
in the goodly "year of our Lord," 1870, an excellent disposition
to help the counterfeiters distribute their goods,
but who was sadly "disappointed" in his enterprising
spirit.

Almost every business has its counterfeiters. As surely
as a man conceives of some practical, easy, business way
of making money, so sure is he to find a host of competitors
springing up about him, and injuring his business.
This has been the fate, to considerable extent, of the regular
counterfeiters,--the men, who, by their great talent as
engravers, have added so much to the mechanical skill of
the country. There is a plenty of scamps in such a place
as New York, for instance, who always stand ready to
profit by other people's labors. (I should not like to be
called upon for a classification of these scamps, for fear
that the various species of the genus "who profit by
other people's labors" might include some reader's most
respectable friends.)
//632.png
.pn +1

The regular counterfeiters have been greatly embarrassed,
within the last two or three years, by a lot of unscrupulous
villains, who pretend to deal in counterfeit
money, and who send their advertising circulars into every
town and hamlet in the land. The regular counterfeiters
can only thrive when they are able to make their wares
pass; and these unscrupulous villains, to whom I allude
above, are likely to injure the business, and thus reduce
the brave, bold, ingenious counterfeiters to the condition,
perhaps, of "private bankers," whose course is that only
of cowardly, false pretences, under "color" or shield of
the law. This is a state of things which is not a little deplorable--for
the counterfeiters.

The business of these unscrupulous villains, whom we
will call, if the reader please, counterfeit money speculators
(for "speculators" is a name which one should not
fail to honor as often as he can), is very extensive. To
give the uninitiated reader a little insight into the business
of these men, one of their circulars is copied below. It is
a fair sample, in regard to its substance, of all that are
issued by these "speculators." The one before me, and
which I copy here, is a lithographed manuscript letter.

(To explain, for the benefit of youthful readers:--The
"speculator" first writes a letter, in neat style of penmanship,
and then gets it copied by an engraver on stone, and
from the plate thus obtained is able to strike off a large
number a day. Probably one third of those who receive
these letters do not know that they are, in fact, "printed,"
and each ignorant receiver feels flattered as he reads the
letter that the "speculator" has taken the pains to write
to him so extendedly, and is led to "think over" the matter,
and finally to "invest," when he would have taken no
notice of a "printed" document.)

The letter alluded to runs thus:--

.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
"<sc>Dear Friend</sc>: While conversing with a gentleman from your locality
recently, you were named as a shrewd and reliable person, and one
likely to enter into a business, the nature of which will be explained in
//633.png
.pn +1
this letter. At all events, he said, whether you go in or not you would
keep a still tongue, and would not expose me. He told me that under no
circumstances must I inform you who recommended you; and as I claim
to be a man of honor, I will never violate a pledge. I have on hand,
and am constantly manufacturing large quantities of the best counterfeit
money ever produced in the world. The sizes are two, five, and ten dollar
bills, and fifty cent stamps. They are printed on first-class bank note
paper. The signatures are perfect, and the engraving is admirable. Not
one banker in five hundred can detect them. I will take a solemn oath
that the bills which I send you will never be detected, unless you make
known your business to persons who have no right to know it. I shall
charge you ten dollars in good money for every one hundred dollars of
mine. If you have confidence in yourself, and desire to push matters,
you had better order as much as you can get rid of in a month or two. In
that case, if you buy as much as five hundred dollars at a time, I will
sell it to you for twenty dollars cash down, and will allow you thirty days
credit for the remaining thirty dollars. If you purchase one thousand
dollars, I will sell it to you for forty dollars cash down, and will wait
thirty days for the remaining sixty. If you want to make a desperate,
but successful, struggle for a fortune in a few weeks, I will send you five
thousand dollars for one hundred and eighty dollars cash down, and will
wait thirty days for the remaining three hundred and twenty. Under
no circumstances will I sell less than one hundred dollars (price ten)
at a time. When you send me any money, or a letter, go to the nearest
Railway station, ask the express agent for a money envelope; insert
your letter, seal the envelope, and see that it is properly directed to me.
Don't send me a letter through the Post Office. The Express Agent
never heard of me, and he will have no idea of the nature of your business.
I would prefer that you would send me money in advance. If
you are unwilling to do so, I will ship whatever quantity you wish by
express, and the Agent will hand you the sealed package as soon as you
pay him the money. That is, I will collect my money on delivery of
goods (C. O. D.). I will make it appear that your package contains
jewelry. If you can spare time come on and see me. Call at my private
office, No. 52 John Street, Room 5, up stairs, New York. I will then
take you to my manufactory, and let you select whatever quantity of bills
you desire. No person in the building knows what business I carry on.
Therefore you are just as safe as if you were going into a theatre. If
any person suspected my business I would not have you call. Now, sir,
if you manage this business properly, you can clear twenty thousand dollars
in a year. You have unusual advantages for passing the bills with
perfect safety. Always ruffle them up to make them appear dirty and old.
You can pass one of my bills at every store, and as the change you receive
will be genuine, you will be enabled to clear at least two thousand
dollars a month. Not one in a thousand of your neighbors can distinguish
a genuine bill from one of mine. Therefore you are foolish for not
grasping an opportunity to make money that may never occur again.
//634.png
.pn +1
I could name a man in your country who made a fortune in the same way.
All his neighbors wonder how he made it. But he keeps a still tongue.
Probably you know who I mean. I deal on the '<i>square</i>,' and if you are
true to me you will never regret it. I pray you will not betray me in
case you do not go in. You will find by dealing with me that I have the
best counterfeit money in the country, and that I deal more honorably
than any other man in the business, because I deal on the '<i>square</i>.' I
would not ask you for any cash down for your first order only to secure
myself for the cost of engraving, printing, etc. Read my terms carefully,
and remember them. Bear in mind that I will give no more credit than I
state in this letter. One or two of my counterfeit bills have already been
passed on you, and you have in turn passed them on others. Therefore
you should be familiar with their appearance and quality. Of course you
did not know they were counterfeits.

"Read the following instructions carefully. Be sure and follow them;
then no mistake can be made. If you come on, call at 52 John Street,
Office No. 5, up stairs. But if you send me money, or a letter by Express,
direct it to my manufactory as follows:--

.ll -8
.rj
<sc>Wm. J. Ferguson</sc>,
.ll +8
.ll -2
.rj
No. 194 Broadway, New York City."
.ll +2
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 1

Bold in its stupidities and brazen-faced in its assumptions
as is the above letter, it has probably deceived hundreds,
if not thousands, and the villain "W. J. Ferguson" could
doubtless tell many a side-splitting story in regard to the
simplicity of his victims. Copies of that and like letters,
signed by other names, and sent out by different "speculators,"
find their way to the farmers', the mechanics', the
poor widows', the shop-keepers', and other hands, and hundreds
send little sums of money in response--"just to try
the thing," if nothing more. I do not intend to animadvert
upon the intelligence, sagacity, and moral worth of
the masses of "the people of these States," for sufficient
comment thereon can be found in the fact that these
"speculators" do a thriving business, and if not disturbed
by the police authorities would soon be able to build as
fine edifices as do the "private bankers," and thus make
themselves "a credit to the city of New York," for example,
by adorning it!

I have alluded to a man whom I have in my mind's eye.
He is a somewhat "queer crittur," as one of his neighbors
//635.png
.pn +1
denominated him, though an "honest farmer," and something
of a "horse character," being interested considerably
in stock raising. He resides not a thousand miles from
Rutland, Vermont, and is "well to do" in the world. The old
fellow's name I am under certain obligations to keep secret;
but lest his neighbors (especially a jolly blacksmith living in
the same "parish" with him, and who gave me some
"light" regarding him, and "enjoyed the fun" when I told
him of what facts I discovered), should, when reading this,
entertain unjust suspicions as to exactly who the "honest
farmer" (and member of the ---- church, too!) is, I will
simply use the fictitious name of W--orthy P. Row--ley
to designate him by.

The exploiting of these "counterfeit-money speculators"
became so extensive that at one time complaints were received
by the score daily--by the Mayor of New York,
and others; and it was finally thought best to take some
notice of them. Various means were employed to detect
the scamps. One of the most active persons, and who
urged their detection and punishment most earnestly, was
a man who is, undoubtedly, a regular counterfeiter. This
was natural enough, as the "speculators," as will be seen
further on, were hurting his business. This man had relatives
in Vermont, and in some way it became suspected
that the "honest farmer," who sometimes visited to New
York, and put up at the Bull's Head Hotel, on Third Avenue,
bringing with him a blooded horse for sale now and
then, was one of his relations. (But this proved not to be
the case. He had been in his company, but was not related
to him by blood, though slightly so, as the sequel will
show, as a "business man.")

Circumstances so occurred in the ferreting out of some
counterfeiters, that suspicion fell upon the "honest farmer"
as one of their aids in the distribution or "shoving" of the
"queer" (the flash or business name for counterfeit money),
and it was thought that he was wanted. So I was delegated
to wait on the gentleman "at or near" his residence.
//636.png
.pn +1

He was in the habit of visiting Canada two or three
times a year to buy up stock (cattle mostly), and import
them into Vermont, and prepare them for market. This
was one of his "side issues," as he said. When I arrived
in his town I found he had gone to Canada, and that I
should be obliged to wait a day or two for his return.
Meanwhile I made as much investigation into the affairs of
the old fellow (for he is a man of nearly sixty years of
age) as I could safely; and from an enemy or two of his
discovered enough to learn that he might be as guilty as
he was suspected to be, and I prepared myself for "investigating"
the old fellow on his return.

To go into details of how I approached the "honest
farmer," and what progress I made in studying him as
connected with the regular counterfeiting business, as an
agent in distributing the "queer" in Vermont,--and somewhat
in Canada, as was supposed,--would make my narrative
too long. But I found at last, to my satisfaction,
and surprise as well, that that W. P. R., the "honest farmer,"
had no connection with the business we suspected
him to be engaged in. But I found also something which
might have surprised me regarding a man of his general
shrewdness, if I had not known many equally astute men
made fools of.

The "honest farmer" had received, from time to time,
letters like that which is quoted herein from Mr. "Ferguson."
At first he paid no attention to them. Finally his
speculative nature became whetted, and out of "pure curiosity,"
as he asserted to me so often as to excite my suspicions
that he had far other motive, he entered into correspondence
with the "New York gentlemen," which
resulted in his sending to the speculators ten dollars in
greenbacks, for which he was entitled, according to their
offer, to receive one hundred dollars in counterfeit bills.
He gave instructions as to how he would prefer to have
it sent, namely, by express, in a square box, well wrapped
and sealed up, and he stated about what size. His correspondents
//637.png
.pn +1
were instructed to write on the corner of the
package, "One doz. Condition." (This, he said, would be
understood by "the railroad folks," and his neighbors, if
they saw it, to mean "Condition powders,"--medicine for
horses.)

The box came to the railroad station near him. He was
apprised of its arrival, and went for it himself. This
was in the daytime, and he "wasted time" on his way
home, so as to arrive in the night. ("Didn't want to let
his folks know," he said, "how deuced foolish his curiosity
had made him.") He drove under the "shed" attached
to his "home barn," and quietly took the box down into a
cellar of "the old house"--an old dilapidated, untenanted
house, in which some of the products of the farm, and a
few farm tools, and some old barrels were kept; and down
into the cellar of the old house he went, and deposited
there the box, and then went in, "washed up," and sat
down with his family to supper.

After supper he was uneasy to investigate the package;
and making an errand "to the barn," procured an old candle,
and (forgetting the "barn") hastened into the cellar,
managing to fasten the cellar door with a rope which he
tied to the handle. He <i>said</i> he did this for fear somebody
might see a light through an end "winder" of the cellar,
and come down and "ketch" him at the "silly job;" but
I have my suspicions that the "honest farmer" had other
reasons than that of pride for his secrecy. He put the
box on the head of an old barrel, and the candle on another,
and began to unfold his treasures. Roll after roll
of "old brown papers and newspapers" he cut off, and
wadding them up, one after another, laid them on the head
of the barrel on which stood the light, or threw them on
the floor.

There was a marvelous waste of paper, he said, in "doin'
up that 'are box." At last he came to the box (a small,
oblong, wooden, affair which he showed me), which I
should think to be about eight inches in length by four in
//638.png
.pn +1
//639.png
.pn +1
//640.png
.pn +1
width and depth, and the original use of which, if it had
any, I could not conjecture. The cover was barely tacked
on. Pulling off this, he presently came upon a few scraps
of old iron, and a few bits of what he thought were paving
stones, and not a single dollar of counterfeit money did
his search reveal.

.pm illo i_638 i_638.jpg 700px "THE \"HONEST\" COUNTERFEIT MONEY SPECULATOR."

At the bottom of the box, pasted in, was a paper, on
which was written, in a bold, quite elegant hand, "Old
fool!--ha! ha!" And while he stood contemplating his
folly, and holding up a bit of the old iron in his hand, the
heap of paper on the other barrel (probably warped, or
"cockled," as paper-men would express it, by the heat
from the candle) tumbled over into the flame of the latter.
The old man said this frightened him at first, "like a judgment"
on his folly, and he had close work for a minute or
two to put out the fire. "I thought the old stairs would
ketch," said he, "and I couldn't get up." The story as
he told it (for he has a considerable "knack at story-telling")
was not a little amusing, but I shall make no attempt
to represent it here.

The counterfeit money speculators have no notion of
getting themselves into serious legal difficulties, and so
long as they only swindle such men as the "honest farmer"
in question, the authorities of New York will probably
take no great pains to disturb them. It would be
rather amusing if one could watch the countenances of the
poor dupes as they open their packages. Disappointed
ambition, "castles in Spain" all tumbled down, visions of
wealth broken into clouds upon their countenances, would
probably be the tale they would tell. But warnings will
do this class of people no good, and it is not "good" they
seek; so we need have no pity for them.

If the counterfeit money speculators, of the kind I here
speak of, do no good, they certainly do no harm, save to
the regular counterfeiters, by forestalling their field, and
getting away from the poor dupes money which might
otherwise fall into the "regular" gentlemen's hands. But
//641.png
.pn +1
perhaps the result in the long run may be beneficial to
the "regular trade," inasmuch as the present victims,
when they come to get possession of the real counterfeit
money, may buy more than they otherwise would, to make
up their former losses. In this they will imitate other
business men, who, when chancing to lose by one attempted
swindle, balance accounts of profit and loss by "doubling"
in a successful swindle, or as gamblers "hedge"
their bets on a horse-race.

At any rate, the "money-makers," whether of bank bills,
or other false pretences, "regular" or "irregular," will
always, I suppose, manage to find "honest farmers," and
like victims, so long as the ignorance of the people sustains
such institutions as private banks; and it matters but
little whether a bank bill has passed under the eye of
"Jones, president," and "Williams, cashier," or not, so
long as it is well "executed" enough to "execute" its
own mission, which is, to swindle labor out of its just dues.
The man who devised paper money and "banking," as it
is generally conducted, was the shrewdest servant that the
tyrant and sagacious classes ever had in aiding them to
keep the laboring classes subjected and "contented" with
being robbed. If any reader thinks my estimate of that
man's clever swindling capacity too emphatic or high, let
him sit down soberly, and consider the subject in all its
aspects, beginning with the cost of the paper, and the
thousand profitable uses it is made to serve for the money-manufacturer,
and then reflect how it is as much one
man's <i>natural</i> right to "make, money" as another's, but that
the few manage to make a monopoly of the business.

The fact is, that the counterfeiters are really more democratic
than the bank men, and only stick to their "constitutional
rights,"--the right of individuals, as well as
of bodies politic, to manufacture money. If the State
would let the matter of money-making alone, and abolish
all laws regarding it, it would not only abolish counterfeiters
and counterfeiting thereby, and "bogus" counterfeit
//642.png
.pn +1
speculators also, but would, in so doing, leave a clear field
for sensible political economists to work out a plan of exchange,
in which some justice and honesty might be obtained.
Till then, the counterfeiters,--the regular <i>bona
fide</i> ones, and the bogus rascals, too,--will thrive; for no
plan of "making money" is found so ingenious that these
capable gentlemen cannot imitate it.

As I write (Feb., 1871), I note in a Connecticut newspaper
an instance of the operation of these bogus counterfeit
money speculators; and what surprises me a little is,
that their victim lives within four or five hours' ride from
New York, in the enterprising village of Thomaston, Litchfield
County, Conn., which connects with New York several
times a day by railway. It appears that a worthy
dealer in "oysters and vegetables" recently received
from "Chatfield & Co." (professional dealers in counterfeit
money, like "Ferguson") a box marked C. O. D., the
charges upon which were ninety dollars. "Of course"
the man made no order upon "Chatfield & Co." They sent
the box voluntarily. "The charges were promptly paid"
(I quote from the newspaper referred to), "and the box
opened. The contents proved to be old iron, stones, shavings,
and rubbish. These articles can be bought cheaper
here. A factorizing suit was quickly served on the express
agent here, the money detained, and by due process
of law our neighbor ... will get it back, less the expenses
of the law. But we cannot help asking the question,
Suppose he had received the "queer" instead of the rubbish
for the ninety dollars, what would he have done with
it? Charity says he would have carried it to the nearest
justice, and had it duly stamped counterfeit, and so lost
the investment;" and the article quoted from facetiously
adds, "If it had been any one less honest than he is, we
are afraid he would have 'shoved the queer' just to get
his money back, with a reasonable (say two per cent.)
profit. After all, the question is still unanswered."

But the Thomaston people probably have more persons
//643.png
.pn +1
in their midst than the oyster dealer, who think that counterfeit
money is good while it passes; and they should not
feel sure, without looking, that they have not in their
purses more or less of the "real genuine article" of counterfeit
money, especially of the "fractional currency"
kind; and it may be that some of the good housewives and
marketing husbands of that goodly village have wittingly
or unconsciously, from time to time, passed so much of it
upon the unfortunate dealer in oysters and vegetables, as
to inspire him with a sense of its great "convenience in
trade," and so he thought to enjoy the blessings thereof
himself, and communicated with "Chatfield & Co."

Drawing my article to a close, I was about overlooking
a fact, which I ought not to forget to state here, in regard
to the "honest farmer." I had a little business transaction
with him--the purchase, in fact, of a few pounds of
very nice butter, which I took home with me. I gave
him a five dollar bill, out of which he took his pay, handing
me the "change," which was two dollars and twenty cents.
I took it (made up of sundry pieces of fractional currency),
and gave it no attention beyond rapidly counting it, and
chanced to place it in one division of my wallet by itself.
At Springfield, Mass., I had occasion to use some of it,
when I found that a fifty cent bill of it was counterfeit. I
considered this "too good a joke to keep" all alone, so I
sent the bill on to the "jolly blacksmith" I have alluded
to before, and made him a present of it, with the suggestion
to him to present it to the "honest farmer," who, to
my astonishment, when I heard of it, did not deny that he
"might have let that New York fellow have it;" and he
modestly took it, and gave another bill (<i>supposed</i> to not
be counterfeit) in exchange. Whether the man knew it
was counterfeit when he gave me the bill, is more than I
dare say here; but his neighbors, on reading this, will
probably decide that question for themselves.--S.
//644.png
.pn +1

.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=detectivesystem
THE DETECTIVE SYSTEM.
.hr 20%
.sp 1
.fs 90%
.in +4
.ll -4
.ti -2
THE NECESSITY OF THE DETECTIVE SYSTEM GENERALLY DISCUSSED--THE
STATE OF SOCIETY WHICH CREATED IT--THE REGULAR AND IRREGULAR
ROBBERS--THE YOUNG MAN OF INTELLIGENCE ENTERING UPON ACTIVE
LIFE, A PICTURE--HE NATURALLY ALLIES HIMSELF TO THE TYRANT AND
ROBBING CLASSES--NO HONESTY IN TRADE--TRADE RULES; AND ALL
ARE CORRUPT--NO CONSCIENCE AMONG THE TRAFFICKERS--LYING A
FINE ART--ALL VILLAINS, BUT NONE INDIVIDUALLY AT FAULT--THE
DETECTIVE BELONGS TO THE CORRUPT GOVERNING CLASSES--WEIGHING
HIM--GREAT THIEVES--"THE PURVEYORS OF HELL"--THE ETERNAL
TALKERS, AND WHAT THEY AMOUNT TO--THE USE FOR DETECTIVES--AN
INCIDENT; "CATCHING A FLAT"--THE DETECTIVE'S VOCATION FURTHER
CONSIDERED--HOW THE DETECTIVES PROTECT SOCIETY--ILLUSTRATIVE
INCIDENTS--A CERTAIN GREAT DETECTIVE DESCRIBED--STRATAGEMS--WHAT
THE PHILOSOPHERS SAY--ON THE WHOLE, IS THE
DETECTIVE SYSTEM FROM ABOVE OR BELOW?
.in -4
.ll +4
.fs 100%
.sp 2

.if h
<sc><b>The</b></sc>
.if-
.if t
The
.if-
chief articles of "Knots Untied" being in type, I
am asked by the publishers to add thereto my views upon
the detective system in general. Much misjudgment has
been indulged in by some in regard to the moral merits of
the system. Indeed, some writers have been so rash as to
condemn it altogether. But these are persons of very
peculiar mental and moral construction, in my opinion.
They have not, it is evident, studied deeply or thoroughly
the condition of things which demands the detective system
for its protection and support.

It has been most wisely said, that "Society creates, for
the most part, the crimes which it punishes." It is a sad
truth, but one to be dispassionately considered--not
overlooked. The wonder to my mind is that there are not
more criminals in society than there are, so heartless are
the institutions of civilization in general, so lax the morality
//645.png
.pn +1
of business life, so hypocritical the common tone of society
everywhere, from among the least up to the greatest
of the participants, in what, as a whole, we call a community,
a town, a city, or a nation.

Everywhere I see injustice and wrong triumphing over
justice and the right; everywhere petty political successes,
vain social triumphs, and especially the victories
of wealth, emulated and worshipped. The crown for which
the child is usually instructed to bend all his efforts hangs
on the pinnacle of vanity or pride. He is expected to
obtain it in business life, by gathering under his feet a
pile of gold high enough to enable him to stand up, and
reach out his hand to it; and he is taught that it is no
matter how he gets the gold, so that he avoids all legal
difficulties in the way; and he is further instructed that
when he shall have acquired a certain amount of gold he
need fear no law, for he can buy juries and judges then,
and be "a law unto himself;" and he grows up to manhood
and active life under these holy instructions.

Looking around him, as a man, he sees that everybody is
striving for the same object which he would reach; and
however his own sense of right may disturb him in his first
mistep from her path, he soon learns that the "common
law," the highest morality, in other words, on 'Change, is
to "buy at the lowest possible prices, and sell for as much
as you can." He becomes extortionate when he can, and
rejoices in whatever panic "sends up" his own stocks, for
example, although it may ruin a thousand others, and bring
desolation to countless homes. He sees, if he lives in New
York, that Wall Street is a den of thieves, "respectable"
ones; and he finds its counterparts all through the city,
down into the lowest haunts of vice, where squalor and
want, added to crime, make the last disreputable.

But his mind is logical, and he sees that there is no difference
in principle between making a "corner" in Wall
Street, and thus robbing a man of fifty shares of a given
railroad stock, and the picking of his pocket of those
//646.png
.pn +1
shares in the graceful way in which the <i>chevaliers d'industrie</i>
do it. He sees the real estate owner, who has
already received in rents, from his tenants, ten times as
much money as a certain building cost him, years ago (exclusive,
at that, of the legal interest on the original investment),
raising the rent as often as he dare, and frequently
ejecting, into the merciless world, the family of a poor
man who cannot meet the advanced rent, on the one side;
and on the other, he witnesses a highway robber snatch a
cloak from the shoulders of a man, or a bundle from a lady's
arms; or a sneak thief escaping from a hall door with a
garment in his hands; and for the life of him he cannot
see any real moral difference in the two "sides;" on both
are extortion and robbery.

He sees vast monopolies arising, and breaking down
small dealers. He sees the merchant princes absorbing
the businesses once conducted by smaller traders, and
usurping even the trades; so that, now, for example,
several hundred dress-makers, once scattered over various
parts of the city, and then living in a good degree of
independence, are to be found gathered in a herd, if
they have employment at all, the merest wages-slaves of
some mercantile lord turned manufacturer, too, as well:
or, if without employment by some large house, forced by
the lower rates which the monopolists charge for their
poorly paid-for goods, to live along on starvation wages.

In short, the man sees about him the greed of gain in all
its hateful and diabolical phases--and he meditates:
"This is the world I am born into; this the field I must
win my successes in; there are but comparatively two
classes,--the successful and proud, who govern everything,
and enjoy everything, and the unsuccessful and the
wretched, who have nothing but woes and toils, and who
enjoy nothing--but what they have. I must make my
choice between the two. I cannot suffer myself to belong
to the latter class."

Thus determining, he enters upon the busy scenes of
//647.png
.pn +1
life; and if a merchant, he misrepresents his goods, for he
knows that all other merchants do the same; he scruples
at no falsity, so that it is not so palpable and clear as to
defeat his chief purpose of cheating,--the achievement of
profits. He lies to enhance in the purchaser's eyes the
real merits of his wares, and he lies to cover up their
demerits. He hears that some merchant is trading
upon a reputation he has somehow acquired of being an
honest dealer. Laughing in his sleeve over this,--for
well he knows that an honest man, in the competitive
sphere of trade, is too much of a <i>lusus naturæ</i> to have an
actual existence,--he casts about to rival the other in
this matter of profitable reputation, and learn "how he
does it." He finds that his competitor has joined Beecher's,
or some other popular church, and gone to teaching
Sunday school. He follows suit,--and thus makes religion
useful and available in trade.

Taking pains to get his church membership noised about,
he now adds sanctimony to his other facial graces, and lies
with a more effective air than before. If a merchant in
wet goods, he goes a step farther than before in their adulteration;
if in dry goods, he puts upon his poorer silks and
cottons, etc., the stamps which belong to better ones; and
so he lives on and thrives, and builds him a mansion in
Fifth Avenue, or some other fashionable quarter, and is a
man beloved and respected, and powerful among the
people.

Or, may be, he turns politician, makes his way into the
city government, sets his active genius to work, and invents
numerous jobs to be done at the public expense, and manages
to reap a hundred, or several hundred per cent. profit
thereon; becomes a money-lord and a chief ruler, and is
noted and respected, and for his thefts of millions, perhaps,
makes restitution by a large munificent donation to the
poor of the city. Or he goes into Wall Street, and robs
and swindles there till he gets to be a power, and lords it
//648.png
.pn +1
over sundry railroad and other vast interests, and is a very
demigod.

In all he is a representative man; for throughout all the
departments of trade and business, from the greatest to the
least, all are swindlers, to more or less extent. Nobody
better than the detective knows how absurd and ridiculous
it is to talk of "honesty in trade," for he is quite as
likely to be called upon to ferret out and arrest a forger or
a cheat in the respectable ranks of business as he is to
entrap a common pickpocket. The detective knows too
much to believe in the honesty of any one as a trader. He
may be a good-hearted, companionable fellow, generous to
his friends, kind to his family, a nobleman by nature, but
in trade he is dishonest; not that he would prefer to be so
even there, but because business rules and customs make
him so. Take the most nearly just man, as a merchant or
manufacturer, to be found in the country, and prove to the
detective (or any other man well informed as to the crafts
of business), if you can, that that trader or manufacturer
will not ask for his goods as large a profit as he can get,--always
the market price, at least,--and think himself not
only not wrong in so doing, but actually right, no matter
how the "market price" is made, whether by the withholding
from the market of a large amount of a given commodity
in order to "raise the price" (which is simply, in other
words, to rob the more) or not.

I have never known a half dozen traders in my life who
had any moral perceptions on this point. Lying is said
to be a fine art in China. Nothing wrong is perceived
in it by the Celestials. Just as some people have no ear
for music, no sense for the harmony of sounds, so they,
the Chinese, seem to have no sense or perception of the
beauty of truth. Just so in the business life of our
own people; hardly a man of all sees or understands
that it is not right for him to receive as great a profit on
his goods as he can "honorably get" (i. e., no matter how,
so that he gets it,--for the getting is the soul of business
//649.png
.pn +1
life). What is true of the business morality of New York,
is true of the trading morality of the whole country. New
York is the chief market town, and rules in prices and
modes of dealing.

The trader, with lack of conscience; the lawyer, whose
interest it is to win his cases at all hazards, and bring his
witnesses up to the right point for victory; the broker,
who has no conscience (save when not pretending to
have any); the manufacturers of flour and other food for
the market, who adulterate their goods, or pass upon the
community poor ones for good ones (and all do more or
less of this); the liquor merchant, who poisons his wines
and brandies with strychnine, etc., in order that he may
give them a "bead," after having adulterated them as
much as he can; the quack-medicine dealers, and the ten
thousand other comparatively respectable shams and cheats
of society, are all on a plane, in point of principle, with the
pickpocket and the sneak thief; while the braver men,
who rob whole railroads, etc., at a time, rise to the dignity
of highwaymen. And there is still another class of moral
worthies, the large manufacturers, who, monopolizing certain
great industries, force the poor, through their necessities,
into perpetual slavery to them, and render back for
their hard labor just enough to keep them from the grave,
and make them useful; and these occupy the position of
the cruel and heartless slaveholder.

Let not the reader suppose that I blame any of these
characters individually. Society's laws and customs make
them what they are. They must be so, or must be content
to be of the oppressed classes. There are but two great
classes in civilization,--the oppressed and the oppressors,
the trampled upon and the tramplers. To the latter class
belongs the detective. He is dishonest, crafty, unscrupulous,
when necessary to be so. He tells black lies when
he cannot avoid it; and white lying, at least, is his chief
stock in trade. He is the outgrowth of a diseased and
corrupted state of things, and is, consequently, morally
//650.png
.pn +1
diseased himself. His very existence is a satire upon
society. He is a miserable snake, not in a paradise, but in
the social hell. He is a thief, and steals into men's confidences
to ruin them. He makes friends in order to reap the
profits of betraying them. He is as bad in these days
as was his prototype, St. Paul in his, "all things to all men,"
but like him, he is defensible, in that his rogueries and
villanies are practised for other people's "salvation" or
security; and, aside from the fact that the detective, in his
calling, is often degraded to a sort of watchman or ordinary
policeman, to help the big thieves, the merchants, etc.,
protect themselves from the small thieves, who are not
able to keep places of business, and to perform sundry
other undignified work, his calling is a very noble one, and
a singularly blessed one, inasmuch as it is the only one
which I call to mind, by which hypocrisy is elevated into
a really useful and beneficent art.

It is true, as I lately saw in a cursory glance at the book
notices in some journal, that somebody in Europe has
written a work entitled "The Purveyors of Hell," in which,
with the keen discrimination of an intelligent and honest
man, he inveighs against the secret service and detective
system as an immense corrupter of mankind, and aims
heavy blows, I suppose, at it. The author, I think, cannot
be far from right in his abhorrence of the system, but I am
afraid that, like too many other doctors of morals, he uses
his scalpel on, and directs his medicines to, the effects, and
not the causes, of the evils he would cure.

The detective has one palliative to his conscience which
the criminal and thief--be he a regular or irregular one,
a business man with a shop, or without one--has not; for
he, in his trickeries, his lies, his false seeming, his unscrupulous
betrayal of his victims, has ever the consciousness
that he is operating as an aid to justice, and that in
her cause is it that he commits whatever outrages he may
do to truth and fair dealing. His position is paradoxical
in a measure. He has the satisfaction of knowing that if
//651.png
.pn +1
he lies and cheats, he is no worse for this, in a business
way, than his neighbors, and that his frauds are exercised
to protect them in keeping whatever ill-gotten gains they
may have in the shape of property, from being stolen from
them by some of the rest of his (and their) neighbors; or
in the discovery of criminals, such as murderers and assassins,
in order that they may be punished, to satisfy the
majesty of the law, made by the society which made the
criminals. In this sense he is a public benefactor, and
better entitled to the honors he wins in society than is,
perhaps, any other useful citizen of the governing
classes.

Whatever is bad in the detective's career, society has
created for him to perform, and compelled him to do it.
However unpleasant to himself his business may be, he has
the happiness of knowing that in its results it is good,--that
is, if it be good to preserve the present order of
things; for without the detective the laws, such as they are,
could not well be enforced; for so cunning have the crafts
of business made our unfortunate criminal classes, that the
ordinary officers of the law cannot surprise or entrap them;
and, allowed to pursue their business uninterrupted, the
pickpockets, counterfeiters, forgers, bank-robbers, and so
forth, would soon monopolize the business of the country
to the disparagement of the money brokers, grain and
cotton exchangers, the land speculators, the usurers, the
railroad robbers, the wholesale and retail merchants, the
private bankers, etc., who, with less keen talent than the
independent pickpocket proper, are obliged to have laws
framed to help them in their iniquity, while he operates
against the law.

To preserve the weaker of the cormorant classes in
their "lawful" pursuits, therefore, the detective is absolutely
a necessity in society, and as such should be as
much esteemed as any other necessity. Obvious is it, then,
that the writer of the work alluded to--"Purveyors of
Hell"--is an impractical enthusiast in the cause of abstract
//652.png
.pn +1
right and truth. It would seem that he, poor man,
believes in some system of abstract and speculative morality
as a governing and directing force in society, without
any regard to the customs of trade, etc., which obtain in
a civilization, the main end of which is to enable its chief
individual participants to "make money" by various means
of enticing it out of their neighbors' pockets and filching
it from the hands of labor.

This sort of abstract morality, spiritual morality, which
is talked from every pulpit in the land to audiences composed,
for the main part, of people who, however strict
attention they may pay to the talkers, punctuate the sentences
of their discourses for them with scheming thoughts
of what they are going to do in a <target id='tn652'>business-way the next
day--has failed of its desired results often enough, one
would think, to confound the talkers. The wonder to me
is that the intelligent classes do not, more than they do,
look things squarely in the face, and see for themselves
how utterly hopeless it is to ever do without the detective
in society, so long as our legislators make ten laws for
the protection of property to one for man; so long as the
"sacredness of property" is a phrase which sanctifies the
protection of all ill-gotten gains, if they but be gotten in
some regular, or not too irregular, way, even more surely
than it covers or protects the products of actual hard labor,--the
very things of all that need protection, and the protecting
of which, in the hands of those to whom they
rightly belong, the laborers, would secure all other rights
in society; for surely the defrauding of labor is the radical
iniquity of the age (as it has been that of all the historic
ages, so far as I can learn), out of which spring all the rest
of the corruptions of society.

But the talkers do not care to meddle with reforms
which have a wise, radical end in view. They hate things
which are radical. They dislike to disturb the "foundations
of society." They are wiser than their Master, and
have so veiled his philosophy and teachings of a politico-economical
//653.png
.pn +1
kind, that he would not, were he to reappear
on earth, here in New York, be able to tell the difference,
in point of principle, between a Wall Street broker, owning
the chief pew in one of the talkers' temples, and being a
principal pillar thereof, from one of those wily rascals
whom he saw fit to whip out of the sacred places some
eighteen hundred and thirty odd years ago.

In those days the detective was as necessary as now;
and it was by his aid, probably, that the society of Jerusalem
was enabled to cohere. But the money-makers
became so sharp and subtle, and got so well established in
the practice of their iniquities in the very Porch of the
Temple, that it became necessary for the great Detective
and Reformer to come out of Nazareth, and search into
their "ways which were dark," and expose them. In fact
it would seem that the detective system has the approval
of very high authority,--so wise as not to be mistaken as
to its fitness to "things as they are," and are ever likely
to be till some method is invented to do away with criminals,
by making crime unattractive, and labor, honest toil,
for what a man has a right to have, and no more, respectable
and attractive.

I have hinted that the detective's vocation has much to
do with "ways that are dark." So it has; and it might be
inferred, perhaps, from what I have said, that his vocation
has a bad influence upon his own interior nature. It is
certain that it has no great tendency to elevate and refine
him; but it would seem that the pursuit of devious ways
for a good end has not the corrupting influence which the
practice of falsehood for the mere aggrandizement of
a man's individual, selfish interests, exercises. Detectives
are, for the most part, excellent citizens--very punctilious
in observing the laws, themselves, as well as being
social regulators to enforce others to respect them, also.
Still, whatever the intrinsic moral life or character of the
detective may be, his art is a devilish one, and civilization
is responsible for it.
//654.png
.pn +1

The use of the detective to society is not fully understood
by the majority of the people, especially in country
places; and visitors to a city like New York, or Philadelphia,
little consider how much of their peace and security,
when there, depend upon the quiet, silent, effective operations
of the master <target id='tn654'>detectives. The citizen or stranger,
on visiting a great mercantile establishment like Stewart's
up-town store, usually but little understands what a system
of detection is carried on there, not only for the protection
of Mr. Stewart's goods, but the purses of his customers,
from the attractive powers of the graceful pickpocket's
fingers. But the amount of money which Stewart
pays out annually for this sort of protection must be something
large. In this way is dispensed to others a portion
of the money which he, as a merchant, manages to win for
himself from the labor-resources of the country by the
jugglery of trade. There seems to be a sort of poetic
justice in this. If Mr. Stewart, and the other enormous
accumulators of wealth, were not obliged to employ others
to help them protect it, there probably would be left to
the poor but little else than the liberty to die, and be
buried in paupers' graves, at a more early date after birth
than is now their wont to reach those hospitable quarters.

But everywhere throughout a great city, in the horse-cars,
in Wall Street, in all the great stores, at the churches
on Sundays, in the lager-beer gardens, on the steamboats
at the wharves, on the ferry-boats, throughout the large
manufactories, around various dens of iniquity, at the theatres,
etc., the detective is at his work. To-day he perhaps
personates one character; to-morrow, another. To-day he
is a trader from the West, making purchases among sundry
dealers in tobacco, perhaps; and as he glides around their
establishments, prizing this or that stock which he is to
purchase, 'unless he can do better elsewhere,' he is
carefully noting everything; for he is for the time in
the employ of the General Government, and it is suspected
that the tobacconists are defrauding the Treasury
//655.png
.pn +1
of the taxes, and he is in pursuit of evidence to convict
them. Yesterday he hailed from New Hampshire,
perhaps, and in the character of a countryman, was getting
an insight into arts by which a sharper was fleecing, not
only country people, but some of the residents of the city,
too, by inveigling them into subscribing for stock in a
fabulous gold, or silver, or lead mine, or some great colonizing
project, and inducing them to advance ten or
twenty per cent. on the nominal par value of the stock as
a part of the working capital.

The detective, in the character of the countryman, presenting
himself in fancy as my pen traced the lines next
above, memory reverts to a notable instance, which I conceive
is well worth recording here, wherein a detective
friend of mine, in his <i>rôle</i> of a sort of Brother Jonathan,
from New Hampshire, caught a bogus gold-mine speculator
of New York in a very clever way, and accomplished
the restitution of several thousand dollars (which had been
advanced as per centage on the stock subscribed for by
several different persons). The speculator, who was a
man of considerable moneyed means, and therefore "responsible,"
and thought to be, of course, "reliable," on account
of his being a man of property, had, in a very ingenious
manner, organized a company to work a supposed
gold mine in Virginia. He was president of the "company,"
and his cousin was secretary. A northern geologist
(a professor in a college not over a hundred and
fifty miles in a bee line from New York city), was taken by
this cousin on to Virginia to examine the mine, and make
a report, which was duly done, the professor making a
very attractive report. He found considerably more gold
to the ton of quartz than is considered among miners "a
fair, average yield." The mine was indeed a very valuable
one in his opinion, and would have been so in fact,
if his conclusions had been drawn from honest premises;
but the poor professor had no suspicion that the gold he
found in his assay of the quartz, which he actually saw
//656.png
.pn +1
taken from the mine in question, got into his crucible in a
mysterious way, and never belonged to the quartz which
he had taken so much pains to pulverize.

The president had so deftly drawn up the printed constitution,
or articles of incorporation, and by-laws of the
company, that he could easily and legally resign his position,
and withdraw when he pleased from the association,
and carry off all the funds advanced, without fear of legal
trouble from his victims. But after a large amount of the
stock had been subscribed, and the advanced assessments
of twenty per cent. called in (when somewhat over half
the nominal stock had been subscribed), one of the victims
got his eyes open, and wanted his money back. He saw
that it was of no use to complain to the president (I will
call the latter Sharp, and my friend the detective, Flat, for
short), so he made his case known to a lawyer, who directed
him to engage Flat, who, he thought, and thought rightly,
would "work up the job safely." Flat managed to get
himself into Sharp's acquaintance outside of business hours,
as a curious fellow,--a nondescript old bachelor,--from
Alton, New Hampshire, owning several farms, and with
more money than he knew what to do with.

Of course Sharp needed <i>him</i>, and used his best arts to
get him to take stock. Flat agreed to call and look into
the "darned thing," and if he liked it he'd "go in." He
called. Sharp showed him the books. Flat found the
amount of stock subscribed just as Sharp told him, and of
course was pleased at first, and was about to subscribe,
himself--when a "notion struck him."

"See here," said he, "these names is all correct, I
guess. I don't know the writin'; but how do I know they
ar' all genooine?"

Sharp, in his way, "satisfied" Flat on that head.

"But," said Flat, "has all these fellurs paid up their
'cessments?"

Sharp assured him they had.
//657.png
.pn +1

"Wa'al, how do I know? I don't see no proof on't here,"
said Flat, pointing to the subscription stock-book.

Sharp explained; but Flat was thick-headed, and would
not understand or believe anything till Sharp should have
entered against each man's name the amount of the assessment
he had paid, and 'then he would take his pick of
'em, he said, and go and ax 'em right to thar heads,' and
ef he found all right, he'd subscribe, and 'go in his full
length.'

Sharp saw nothing not flat and silly in this, and he
agreed to it of course, for well he knew that all the stockholders
would be glad to get more money into the treasury
to develop the mine with. They would, of course, all
tell Flat that they had paid up, and so confirm Sharp's
word. Flat quietly visited two or three of the heaviest
stock holders, and informed them how they were cheated,
and they became as anxious as his employer to have
the scamp caught; and after two days, Flat called again
upon Sharp, taking a couple of modest friends along with
him, of whom he could manage to make witnesses in an
emergency. Sharp was all ready, greeted him cordially,
pointed out to him carefully, and with much apparent
pride, the names of the stockholders who had paid up
their assessments, and explained to him that certain checks
he had put against their names meant that they had paid,
and showed how much each had paid.

Flat was a little thick-headed, but saw "straight" at
last. "I declare," said Flat, "that are's famous," taking
hold of the book; "neow do tell me what your expenses
is in runnin' this here company? What d'they charge
you for this here nice book, to begin with?" (The book
was gotten up with considerable care as to appearances.)

Sharp thought it a stupid question, but humored Flat,
and told him that it was worth twenty-five dollars; but that
he had an eye to economy for the company, and "jewed"
down the price to eighteen dollars.

"Wa'al," said Flat, "that's cheaper an' I can git one
//658.png
.pn +1
//659.png
.pn +1
//660.png
.pn +1
anywheres else; guess I'll take it; talk of gittin' up a
company myself;" and he appropriated the book, to Sharp's
amazement.

.pm illo i_658 i_658.jpg 471px "CATCHING A FLAT."

He had all he wanted; evidence enough as to who had
been swindled, and how much, etc. The matter was all
brought down to a point, and Sharp was arrested by one
of Flat's friends, while Flat bore away the book to a safe
place. Suffice it, that Sharp was so securely caught that
he did not go home to his pleasant residence in New Jersey
that day so early as usual, or not until every dollar he had
swindled from his victims was secured, and in the way of
getting back to their hands. This was "Catching a Flat"
with a vengeance for Mr. Sharp.

But this is only an illustrative case of the best and most
honorable class of the detective's work, and one of the
comparatively "genteel" cases too. His field of labor is
usually more thorny, and his work at times not only very
perplexing, on account of the subtle characters he has to
deal with, but very laborious in view of the much travelling,
nights and days, which many jobs occasion. The
tracking out of bank robbers, searching for the hiding-places
of their stolen treasures, and various like things,
will suggest the great amount of real, hard, physical labor
the detective sometimes has to perform. Only he can do
it. He cannot delegate his powers to any great extent.
If he employs others, it is only as aids, not as substitutes.
He is expected to know everything in the ways of business
regular and business irregular. If he would succeed
as a detective of bank robbers, especially, he must not
only know all the rogues of that class, but he must understand
what class of "workmen" they are; for these industrious,
hard-working bank-robbers all have different ways
of doing their work; possess different degrees of skill;
and when the robbery of a bank is reported to a detective,
his first inquiry is directed to the manner in which
the "work" was done.

Some workmen of this class have very little skill of a mechanical
//661.png
.pn +1
kind. They do their work bunglingly, and never
attempt very difficult jobs. Others are very skillful; are
ready to undertake anything. The most skillful bank-robbers,
of twenty or twenty-five years ago, would only be
bunglers now. The thousand new devices for safe-locks,
security of vaults, and so forth, would entirely confound
them. But as genius makes progress in the arts of security,
the bank-robbers keep pace. Their profession increases
in dignity among themselves in proportion to the new and
great difficulties which they surmount. They are of different
classes, of different degrees of merit in their vocation,
and the detective must know at once by their "chips" to
what class belonged the scamps who robbed this or that
bank; for if he did not know he would be liable to get on
the wrong track, and so the scamps would gain all the
time they need for putting themselves in perfect security.
And the detective must know the character and relative
"standing" of the members of other divisions of the
"cross" classes, as they are designated in the technical
phrase of the profession.

So the detective's calling is one which demands not only
much cunning, but much general and accurate knowledge
of human character, and not a little acquaintance with all
sorts of business. He may be illiterate, as many an excellent
detective is, for he has perhaps climbed up from unfortunate
and poor early surroundings by force of his
natural abilities, and not by any adventitious aid of the
schools. If he cannot solve problems of the higher mathematics,
he can unravel mysteries which would confound
a Newton or a Laplace; and to keep pace with the "enlightened
progress" of bank-robbers, counterfeiters, and
so forth, the <target id='tn661'>detective must not only be alert, but clear-headed.
He must be honest, too, punctiliously so in a
business sense; for he must keep within certain limits,
observe certain rules of honor in his dealings with thieves
and outlaws, otherwise he would often find himself lacking
in one case evidence which he wants in another; or having
//662.png
.pn +1
one scoundrel in his power, could never use him as state's
evidence to criminate another, his confederate, and a more
dangerous person than he; for there is certainly "honor
among thieves," as among other business men. There
must be a certain degree of it, else business itself would
die out or go into anarchy. Honor enough to preserve
the integrity of his business every thief has. The detective
could not afford to have less than the thief. He is a
sort of prince, in the thieves' opinion. He is the only
man for whom they have any real respect.

With the detective the thief usually "keeps faith," if
he plights him his "word and honor as a gentleman!"
(Strange words to fell from a thief's mouth, but after all
a most appropriate source; for a true man has no need to
indorse his yea or nay with an oath of honor.) The detective
is a power among the thieves; his are the laws
they obey. They fear only him. He is a necessity, then,
for protecting society against the frauds, [s]peculations,
and robberies of these irregular business men. He governs
the cities, and protects them, so far as controlling the rapacity
of the irregular robbers is concerned. But few
people resident of a city like New York, and but few
strangers coming to the city, consider or ever know how
continually they are under the protection of the invisible
detective; invisible to them, but "seen and known of all
men" in the irregular vocations of business.

The detective is ever about in public places, exercising
his calling for the protection of the thousands who know
him not. For example, strangers from the country visiting
New York generally attend the theatres, more or less,
especially if they are very puritanic at home, and some such
play as the Black Crook is ruling at Niblo's, for instance.
Of course the country gentlemen, whether deacons, or
what not, in their respective rural districts, must see the
"sensations." What else do they come to New York for,
to be sure? On business? Yes, the detective who knows
them all, and can tell at sight from what parts of the country
//663.png
.pn +1
they individually come, knows that they visit New
York "on business;" for he sees them at the theatres,
and often gets sight of them going into places where very
wise people do not go, but where wisdom of a certain sort
is to be obtained nevertheless; and so he knows that they
come to the city only on business. But he keeps an eye
out for them constantly.

They go to Niblo's, perchance, to see some spectacular
play, like the "White Fawn," or the "Black Crook," to
which we have referred before. They go in great crowds.
They have their "Sunday clothes" on, watch chains in
sight, pocket-books insecurely guarded, etc., and they sit
out the hours and listen to the play, and are delighted, and
go quietly out, away to their hotels, or among their friends,
unconscious all the while that at the theatre they owed
their security from pickpockets, and that class of skilled
gentlemen, to a single, quiet man, whom they may not
have deigned to cast a look upon as they passed through
the vestibule into the body of the theatre; but he was
there, having a care for them all. He is one of the chief
men of his vocation in the land or the world. The thieves
and pickpockets all know him, and respect him.

Standing near by the gateway in the railing which
crosses the vestibule, is this gentleman to be seen. He is
of rather more than medium height--a muscular, but not
large man, has a face of regular cast of features, and a
very fine intellectual brow. He is rather more than a
good-looking man; a handsome man, indeed; and a gentleman
of courteous manners. He is always well dressed,
but never over-dressed; he exercises excellent taste in
this respect. He is the only man in New York, perhaps,
who could perfectly fill the place he occupies in that vestibule
now as the guardian of the thousands who pass
through that little gate. He seems not to be observing
anything in particular; but you may hear him as you pass
through the gate, perhaps, speak to some one in the crowd
moving on with you; and turning about, you observe that
//664.png
.pn +1
a fine-looking gentleman has stepped aside to speak with
the accomplished public guardian, Wm. George Elder (for
that is his name), and the gentleman whom he has quietly
called to him is an accomplished pickpocket. The detective
is informing him that he must not go in now; some
other night, perhaps, he may. That pickpocket has, perhaps,
been long away from the city, for years, at Boston, or
New Orleans, and thought the detective had forgotten
him. But the detective has an excellent memory, and he
never forgets his "friends," he says; and this pickpocket
he had, years ago, enrolled among the best of his friends,
because he had taken his advice, and left the city, with the
promise never to return; and the detective gently reminds
him of his promise and his "honor;" and the pickpocket,
all smiles, and graciousness,--for he is a very gentleman
in his line of business,--bows himself off.

One after another the detective arrests the pickpockets
quietly, and sends them away. None of them whom he
has ever seen escapes him, however much disguised. But
there may be some new ones, some lately arrived from
London (the fruitful mother and skillful educator of this enterprising
class of our fellow-men), or from somewhere else,
whom the detective has never seen, and who have passed
in. But pickpockets have a brotherhood of their own,
and the stranger pickpockets find their way to the resident
ones at once; so to keep watch on a strange one
who may possibly have entered, the detective, perhaps,
allows one or two of the resident gentlemen to go in, and
makes them responsible for whatever watches or pocket-books
may be lost there on the given night.

The pickpockets so admitted plight him their word that
they will not "work" there that night, and they keep it;
and if some other pickpocket, still a stranger to the detective,
carries on his business there, the resident pickpockets
are sorely grieved, for they feel that their honor
has been trifled with and imperilled, and they are sure
to hunt out the stranger gentlemen, and make him disgorge,
//665.png
.pn +1
on the principle of the honor and respect which one member
of their fraternity is bound to show to another. A
higher law rules among these people than among the
regular or legalized pickpockets in the business world
generally. Thus, by wise stratagem, the detective causes
one villain to keep another "honest," or inoffensive at
least.

This particular officer is not always at that given post
on play nights; but he may be often seen there, and he
is a splendid specimen of the <i>genus</i> detective. It would
be difficult to find in any business vocation a more
thoroughly effective and true man than he; but he honors
the calling, and not the calling him. Without him and
his fellow-detectives the civilization of New York could
not be maintained, and throughout the country a sort of
anarchy would bear sway. Vigilance committees would
be needed in all our cities, and be made up of inexperienced
citizens, who, not knowing what to do, would
make confusion more confounded, and run riot themselves
at last. But the skilled "vigilance committee," the educated
detectives, keep things in order.

On the whole, I am of the opinion that the detective
system, with all its crafts and hypocrisies, its "higher
law," or law of "expediences," which is constantly breaking
in upon common law and the statute law of the States
against the compounding of felonies, etc., etc., is, notwithstanding
all that may be said against it, one of
the very best institutions or features of our corrupt civilization,
whether we regard the physical powers or the
spiritual powers that be in its midst. It is, at least, the
silent, secret, and effective Avenger of the outraged Majesty
of the Law when everything else fails, and must
fail, to bring certain irregular members of society into
order. And if there is any merit in sustaining our corrupt,
abominable civilization as it is, then the detective's
value cannot well be overrated. But there are social philosophers
who hold that it is a sin to perpetuate things as
//666.png
.pn +1
they are, and who teach that society can never be reformed,
and justice rule, protecting the rights of labor against the
rapacity of greedy tyrants, etc., etc., until it shall have
first become disintegrated in all its present parts, and be
reconstructed; that out of the rotten particulars of which
the general whole is now composed nothing worthy can be
wrought; and that disintegration cannot come too soon,
even if through all possible calamities. In the view of
these men the detective system is but a power exercised
in an unholy cause; a necessary part of an unnecessary
system of wrong. Between the philosophers and the general
public I leave the detective system, unwilling to
assume to decide for others whether, on the whole, it <i>fell</i>
from "heaven" or sprang from "hell."

But while I would not undertake to determine for others
the metaphysical (?) question above raised, I feel it proper
to add for myself, that although most of my relations with
the police during my whole period of office were pleasant
enough, so far as my brother officers were concerned (some
of whom, indeed, I hold in cordial esteem); yet the duties
of my position were frequently obnoxious to my taste and--perhaps
I will be pardoned for so expressing myself--to
my better nature. My adoption of and continuance in the
profession were not acts of choice, or volition, in the sense
of what sundry more or less clear-headed theologians call
"free agency"; but, rather, the practical expressions or
verifications of "foreordination" perhaps, or in other words,
the results of the "force of circumstances," in conflict with
which I was powerless; and I felt relieved of a great burden
when fate permitted me, at last, to forego my honors
as a detective policeman.


.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=transcribersnote
Transcriber's Note
.sp 2
Page numbers are documented as links within the source code of the HTML.

Illustrations have been moved near the relevant section of the text.

Inconsistencies have been retained in spelling, hyphenation, punctuation, and grammar, except where indicated in the list below:

.if t
.in +4
.ll -4
.nf l
- #"th m" changed to "them" on Page iii:tn004#
- #"23" changed to "21" on Page v:tn006#
- #Quote removed after "GRAHAM,":tn011#
- #Dot replaced with "--" on Page xiv:tn015#
- #"REMOVES TO LONDON" heading added to Page 23:tn024#
- #"officer" changed to "Officer" on Page 52:tn052#
- #"succint" changed to "succinct" on Page 55:tn056#
- #"pressent" changed to "present" on Page 58:tn059#
- #"filty" changed to "filthy" on Page 67:tn068#
- #Quote removed before "In" on Page 81:tn082#
- #Quote removed after "mood." on Page 88:tn089#
- #Quote added after "Street." on Page 92:tn093#
- #Single quote moved from after "eyes." to after "Noir" on Page 118:tn119#
- #"severly" changed to "severely" on Page 127:tn128#
- #Quote added before "Don't" on Page 128:tn129#
- #Quote added before "but" on Page 132:tn133#
- #Quote added after "prize." on Page 146:tn147#
- #Period added after "G" on Page 186:tn187#
- #"busicess" changed to "business" on Page 202:tn203#
- #Period added after "such" on Page 208:tn209#
- #Period added after "NEWBERRY" in illustration caption near Page 215:tn216#
- #Quotes placed around "80" and "200" on Page 231:tn232#
- #"circuituous" changed to "circuitous" on Page 239:tn240#
- #Quote added before "I" on Page 260:tn261#
- #Comma removed after "We'll" on Page 268:tn269#
- #Quote added before "I" on Page 315:tn316#
- #"seige" changed to "siege" on Page 318:tn319#
- #"secretely" changed to "secretly" on Page 322:tn323#
- #Quote added before "and" on Page 323:tn324#
- #Quote added before "and" on Page 325:tn326#
- #Quote removed after "to." on Page 335:tn336#
- #Quote added before "He" on Page 336:tn337#
- #Period changed to a comma after "HARTFORD" on Page 341:tn342#
- #Quote removed after "Ellsworth." on Page 344:tn345#
- #Quote added after "lost." on Page 359:tn360#
- #"not not" changed to "not" on Page 375:tn376#
- #Quote removed before "and" on Page 383:tn384#
- #"ablility" changed to "ability" on Page 411:tn412#
- #Quote added before "take" on Page 411:tn412a#
- #Comma removed after "few" on Page 417:tn418#
- #"acqaintance" changed to "acquaintance" on page 427:tn428#
- #Quote removed after "coachman" on Page 450:tn451#
- #"rag man's" changed to "rag-man's" on Page 450:tn451a#
- #Quote added after "here." on Page 456:tn457#
- #Quote removed after "Ah," on Page 478:tn479#
- #Quote added before "but" on Page 478:tn479a#
- #Quote removed after "he," on Page 483:tn484#
- #"desposit" changed to "deposit" on Page 508:tn509#
- #"circumtances" changed to "circumstances" on Page 561:tn562#
- #"son-in law" changed to "son-in-law" on Page 563:tn564#
- #"stealthly-looking" changed to "stealthy-looking" on Page 581:tn582#
- #Quote added before "Do" on Page 582:tn583#
- #"thorougly" changed to "thoroughly" on Page 587:tn588#
- #"RUPUTATIONS" changed to "REPUTATIONS" on Page 589:tn590#
- #"unfreqnently" changed to "unfrequently" on Page 619:tn620#
- #"busines-way" changed to "business-way" on Page 651:tn652#
- #Comma changed to a period after "detectives" on Page 653:tn654#
- #"dectective" changed to "detective" on Page 660:tn661#
.nf-
.ll +4
.in -4
.if-

.if h
.li
<ul>
<li><a href='#tn004'>"th m" changed to "them" on Page iii</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn006'>"23" changed to "21" on Page v</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn011'>Quote removed after "GRAHAM,"</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn015'>Dot replaced with "--" on Page xiv</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn024'>"REMOVES TO LONDON" heading added to Page 23</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn052'>"officer" changed to "Officer" on Page 52</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn056'>"succint" changed to "succinct" on Page 55</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn059'>"pressent" changed to "present" on Page 58</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn068'>"filty" changed to "filthy" on Page 67</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn082'>Quote removed before "In" on Page 81</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn089'>Quote removed after "mood." on Page 88</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn093'>Quote added after "Street." on Page 92</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn119'>Single quote moved from after "eyes." to after "Noir" on Page 118</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn128'>"severly" changed to "severely" on Page 127</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn129'>Quote added before "Don't" on Page 128</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn133'>Quote added before "but" on Page 132</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn147'>Quote added after "prize." on Page 146</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn187'>Period added after "G" on Page 186</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn203'>"busicess" changed to "business" on Page 202</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn209'>Period added after "such" on Page 208</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn216'>Period added after "NEWBERRY" in illustration caption near Page 215</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn232'>Quotes placed around "80" and "200" on Page 231</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn240'>"circuituous" changed to "circuitous" on Page 239</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn261'>Quote added before "I" on Page 260</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn269'>Comma removed after "We'll" on Page 268</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn316'>Quote added before "I" on Page 315</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn319'>"seige" changed to "siege" on Page 318</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn323'>"secretely" changed to "secretly" on Page 322</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn324'>Quote added before "and" on Page 323</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn326'>Quote added before "and" on Page 325</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn336'>Quote removed after "to." on Page 335</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn337'>Quote added before "He" on Page 336</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn342'>Period changed to a comma after "HARTFORD" on Page 341</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn345'>Quote removed after "Ellsworth." on Page 344</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn360'>Quote added after "lost." on Page 359</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn376'>"not not" changed to "not" on Page 375</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn384'>Quote removed before "and" on Page 383</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn412'>"ablility" changed to "ability" on Page 411</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn412a'>Quote added before "take" on Page 411</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn418'>Comma removed after "few" on Page 417</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn428'>"acqaintance" changed to "acquaintance" on page 427</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn451'>Quote removed after "coachman" on Page 450</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn451a'>"rag man's" changed to "rag man's" on Page 450</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn457'>Quote added after "here." on Page 456</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn479'>Quote removed after "Ah," on Page 478</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn479a'>Quote added before "but" on Page 478</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn484'>Quote removed after "he," on Page 483</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn509'>"desposit" changed to "deposit" on Page 508</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn562'>"circumtances" changed to "circumstances" on Page 561</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn564'>"son-in law" changed to "son-in-law" on Page 563</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn582'>"stealthly-looking" changed to "stealthy-looking" on Page 581</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn583'>Quote added before "Do" on Page 582</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn588'>"thorougly" changed to "thoroughly" on Page 587</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn590'>"RUPUTATIONS" changed to "REPUTATIONS" on Page 589</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn620'>"unfreqnently" changed to "unfrequently" on Page 619</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn652'>"busines-way" changed to "business-way" on Page 651</a></li>
<li><a href='#tn654'>Comma changed to a period after "detectives" on Page 653</a></li>
</ul>
.li-
.if-