Chapter XVII: Part 17

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 _entree_ 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 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 _my_ 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! _hee!_" 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.

"'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! _hee!_ 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."

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 _great_ 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 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 _is_ 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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. ---- 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."

"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; 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 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 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.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

$1,250,000, OR THE PRIVATE MARK.

--------------

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.

The "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 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, 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 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 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 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, 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.

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 _said_ 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 _our_ Mr. Hague was named, conducted the London end of the business, and the house grew rich very fast.

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, 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 _not_.

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 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 _can_ find him _he_ 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 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 _do_ 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.