Part 45

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; 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 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 _how_ 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, 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 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.

THE PECULIAR ADVERTISEMENTS.

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.

Coincidences 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.

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 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 _bon vivant_ (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 _now_, Nellie! Curse you! You--_know_--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 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.

"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 _shall_ 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 _will_ 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 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?"

"_Knew_ 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 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."

"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:--

"LET THE SEEKER AFTER KNOWLEDGE TAKE HEED. _Will will be pleased to know the_ WILL _of the unwilling, at nine o'clock, Monday night, next? for success and joy, perhaps, await him._

HIS CONTINENTAL FRIEND."