Chapter XV: Part 15

"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 _outre_, 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 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 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.

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 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 _is_ 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 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. Stevens. She gave me a knowing look, as her face was suffused with contempt for the brutal remark of Le Roy.

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 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 _shall_ 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 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 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, 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 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."

"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 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. 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.

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 _qui vive_ 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."

"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 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 ability to 'attend to your own business,' as on that day the stage upset in Litchfield?--Officers," said I, "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."

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 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.

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THE MARKED BILLS.

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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.

It 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 of the place, and several constables, deputy sheriffs, detectives from Cincinnati, and so forth, to detect. As a _dernier resort_, 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 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 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 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."

"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 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 _you_ 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 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.