Chapter XXIII: Part 23

But Madame K. (the widow), who admired the man in some respects, had learned the value of a great, noble love too well to even trifle with her soul in this regard, and could not consent to accept the wealthy widower's offer. In view of the fact of this offer, she suffered from the loss of her money more than she otherwise would have done; for she was proud to have the widower, as well as everybody else, know that she was self-reliant and successful; and to be successful, it is necessary to be cautious and prudent in all things; and the widow had not been prudent in the disposal of her money. Indeed, she had lost it through a sort of unpardonable carelessness, or rather lack of caution, and this vexed her not a little.

My sympathies were greatly enlisted in behalf of the beautiful widow; and without being willing to acknowledge that my heart was touched by her facial beauty (for where is the man in the world who would not scorn to be thought susceptible to such a "trifle"?), I do confess that the widow's charming address and manners won me over to her cause with a force which I thought a little peculiar, and I resolved to do all I could to hunt up the thief, and find the money, and perhaps not charge the beautiful widow a cent for my services (if I _must_ confess the whole right here).

Armed with such high resolve, I went over to Madame K.'s house the next day to tea, the time when she would have returned from her necessary business trip that day to the gold-lace house for which she wrought; and found her there ready to receive me, and point out the place where she had kept the money stolen. I should say here, that the theft had been committed five days before, and some effort had been made on the part of Madame K. to discover a clew to the thief.

Madame K. had, in her sitting-room, a curious old "secretary," which had been brought out from Hungary by some exiles, and which--since it exactly resembled one in her father's library or studio, and at which she had so often sitten and wrought out her lessons, written her school-girl "compositions," and made her early efforts in epistolary graces--she had bought. This secretary had close-locking double doors, in each of which was, as if it were itself a panel, a mirror, as a middle piece, with plates of deftly chased glass above each mirror; and the glasses were opaque, so that the doors might, in one sense, have been said to be solid. Indeed, I think the whole mirror and ornamental glass plates were backed by a panel of wood.

The secretary was a queer compound of strength, and more or less bad taste, as well as about the same quantity of good taste. The inner work was all curious,--sly boxes; boxes within boxes, etc., and the faces of each carved with the heads of lions, tigers, and so forth, of the natural order, as well as with all sorts of things of a mystic nature, as well as some never thought of before save by the special carver of these special faces. Everything about it looked secure, but, alas! it would not protect its contents against a cunning thief. But I saw that it must have been somebody who was somewhat acquainted with the interior of the secretary to have readily abstracted any of its contents without disturbing things, in the short space of time between the discovery of the loss and the fact of the presence of the money there, just a little before; for I had determined matters so far as to learn this point, namely, that the money had been taken from a purse in a certain drawer, and the purse itself left.

The money consisted of bank bills principally, with fifty dollars in gold--two tens and six five-dollar pieces. This drawer had a peculiar lock, a part of which turned around three times before the key could drive the bolt, so that the person unlocking it must have had time to study this, or had known it before. There was the outer key, too, the key of the secretary's doors. On inquiry, I found that this key was hung up on a little tack at the back of the secretary. It might almost as well have been left in the lock. The lock of the doors, too, was peculiar, and only the smallest of keys could open it, and it would have been difficult to pick. Probably somebody who knew where to find the key had opened it.

The result of my investigation was the conviction that some resident of the house, or some frequent visitor, had taken the money; so I asked Madame K. to call up the younger servant. The old one was beyond all possible suspicion; and I convinced myself that either the servant was guiltless, or that if guilty we could never prove her so, unless by chance we should find the money on her; so I had arranged, before her coming in, to be writing at a table, and while in conversation with her, of such a style that she could not possibly conceive that we had the remotest suspicion of her, I asked her, in a careless way, to hand me some writing paper out of the desk, and the bungling mode in which she managed the key of that peculiar lock convinced me that she did not take the money, unless when the door had been carelessly left open; but Madame K. was very sure that she was never guilty of such carelessness, and I was disposed to accredit her self-judgment.

I took possession of everything in the drawer, a purse, some old papers, some letters; one letter particularly attracting my attention, a corner or strip of it having been torn off. I asked Madame K. about this torn letter. She could give me no information about it. It was a business letter written to her late husband, and dated back some three years. It was written in English, but by a German friend of the late Mr. K., residing then at Cincinnati, Ohio. There was the unmistakable German form of the letters; and I know not what should have "come over" me just then, for I am not a believer in the interference of intelligent spirits, and I fear I do not believe more than is necessary of ancient or modern "inspiration," but I said to the widow,--

"Madame K., I feel as though we were going to find out, sooner or later, who took the money, and I hope we shall get the money back, too."

Of course her eyes sparkled a little with sudden hope, excited by my confident manner of speaking, but they dropped before she replied,--

"But, sir, _I_ dare not hope so, for the disappointment, if you should not find the money, would be worse than the loss original" (for madame still transposed some of her English words according to her native idiom). "But you will be a vary ex_cee_-lent man if you do find it," added she, with a most provoking smile of encouragement.

I searched the boarders' and servants' rooms, with madame, most thoroughly, but unavailingly, and told her she must keep quiet, and wait for some circumstance to develop itself which might put us on the right track; and that, meanwhile, I would trace out the patent roof-maker in his quarters in New York.

From something which madame told me, and from the fact of seeing an old, and pretty well worn pack of marked-back playing cards, and some other indications of a sporting man, I expected to find this fellow's "work," not so much _on_ roofs as under them. But I found he had really an ostensible business, and had an office,--a very small one,--in which he had three or four little houses, of the size of small dog kennels, the roofs of which were covered with his patent composition, and he had also some four men at work; but he did not work much. He hardly took the trouble to supervise his men's work, but charged so much a day for their time, and paid them less, living on the difference, and thus keeping up appearances, while he was trying to sell out his "right" to somebody who might be found stupid enough to give him as much as he paid for it.

I found that some of his associates were gamblers and other kinds of sporting men, and that he kept his best suit of clothes in a wardrobe at his office, and dressed more elegantly in New York than he did in Newark, where the clothes he wore were whole, neat, and good enough. This flashy dressing in New York not only suggested vanity, but some cunning, I thought, showing the man to be capable of some secrecy and diplomacy. I pursued my investigations into his character, not only in New York, but in Ohio, where he was born, and raised. He came from the beautiful town of Dayton, and his parentage, and relationship there, were highly respectable. The young man's countenance was in his favor. He looked honest and good-hearted, and I found that he dealt with his men as he agreed. But he would be a sorry fool who should trust much to appearances in a large city like New York, where the greatest scoundrels are the most fascinating men and women.

But I confess my mind oscillated considerably between suspicions of this young man's guiltiness and the inclination to believe him innocent. I found he spent considerable money, and I found, too, where he sometimes made a good deal in gambling. He was one of those unfortunate beings who enjoy good luck enough, now and then, to constantly whet their hopes, and make their severest losses only prompters to more earnest trials of the "fickle goddess."

I continued to trace him back and forth between Newark and New York, which I was enabled to do almost daily, through the kindness of a friend who resided in Newark, and came daily to New York to his business. This man talked with him about the widow's loss, for which the young roof-maker expressed great regret; said Madame K. was a fine lady, worked hard, and he wished he was able to make up her loss to her in some way.

When asked if he suspected anybody, the poor music teacher in particular, he expressed himself as unwilling to suspect anybody, and declared that he could never believe the music teacher guilty, except under the most positive evidence. He was too simple a man, he said, to do anything of the sort; a man who had no bad habits to indulge, and one of that stamp whom the possession of eight hundred dollars, however he might have obtained it, would have driven crazy.

I managed to get entrance into the young man's office in New York, and make careful examination of everything there, such clothes as he had in the wardrobe, and everything else, even to a hollow cane, or walking-stick, in which, to my surprise, I found money--good money, but nothing corresponding with any of the bills lost by the widow, which were nearly all large ones, with a few small ones,--all the latter the issue of a Newark bank. Finding the money in this hollow cane made me suspicious of the man's general character. Why carry good money in such a "purse"? It would be a convenient thing to conceal counterfeit money in, I thought; and then I said to myself, "Why not good to keep stolen money in too?" and finally I answered, "Yes, and good money too;" for not one person in ten thousand would ever think to look in such a place for money. Besides, the young man's name was engraved upon the silver head of the cane, and that fact ought rather to ward off suspicion against him.

In these and like ways I was always fluctuating in my mind regarding the young roof-maker; and as I had pursued matters under the inspiration of my sympathy for the widow in her loss (with a slight prompting, I confess, on the score of her bewitching ways and her delicate beauty) quite beyond what I would have felt warranted in doing in another case under like circumstances; so I told the madame one day, when she called at my office, as she not unfrequently did, that I thought we must give up the search; that probably nothing but the death-bed repentance of the thief would ever disclose who took the money, and that all had been done which could possibly be done, I thought, to ferret out the thief. It was easy for him to get the larger bills changed to small ones in New York, and get the Newark money out of his hands, and as for the gold, there was no way to identify that; that either one of the boarders, or some visitor, had probably taken the money; and so much time having passed since it was taken, that we might as well expect the dead to rise that day in Greenwood as to expect to find the thief or the money.

At this madame burst into tears over the loss of the money, as I supposed, and I tried to calm her; but she wept quite frantically. I had never seen her before save in a calm, dignified state, and knew not what to make of it; but she said,--

"Not for the gone money, I weep, sir; but what you said of the dead in Greenwood: there are all mine."

I had known that her children and husband were buried in an obscure quarter of Greenwood, but forgot that fact when I spoke, and stupidly made allusion to that cemetery. The madame's tears re-strengthened my sympathy; and she told me a dream, too, which she had had three or four nights before, with such unction, that while I laughed in my sleeve at it, I could not, for the life of me, but express in my face believing astonishment. She said at the same time that she did not believe in dreams at all, yet this one was so startlingly realistic in its personages, localities, etc., that it seemed to her more a veritable history of facts than the shadowings of a disordered imagination in semi-sleep. The substance of the dream was, that I had been over to her house again, had made another search, and in the room occupied by the music teacher and the young roofer (for they occupied the same room, the largest in the little house, but had separate beds); and that while I was shaking some clothes belonging to one of them, she could not tell which, down fell a five dollar gold piece, and dropped on the carpet at a point exactly equidistant from the two beds, after rolling on the carpet in a small curve. Madame derided the dream while she told it, yet it evidently had made some impression on her mind; discovering which, together with my re-aroused sympathies for her over her widowhood and the loss of the money, I assured myself that I ought to make further trial, and thought I would revisit her house and make further search.

I did so two days afterwards, at my first leisure, and reviewed the whole affair there. In searching the roof-maker's room again, which I did out of a sort of deference to the widow's dream, but without the slightest expectation that I should find any clew to the thief, I came across a garment which I had not seen before, either in his closet there or in the wardrobe at his office in New York. It was an old vest, and, strange to say, madame did not remember to have ever seen the roof-maker wear it. Yet there it hung with his clothes. Perhaps it was the music teacher's; but at any rate we, in a sort of listless way, examined it; finding nothing but a few cloves and spices in it, such as too many young men carry in their pockets in order to draw therefrom disguises of a bad liquor-smelling breath; and a crumpled piece of letter paper, quite black on one side, which I was inclined to throw aside; and I should have done so, except from my habit (rather than judgment, in this case) of examining everything.

Unfolding this, which proved to be a strip of nearly triangular form, about two and a half inches wide on the line of one "leg," by four or five inches by the other "leg," I noticed some letters and words on the piece. It was evidently a part of a letter torn off; and I reflected that I had seen writing of that same style somewhere, and turning up the left-hand upper corner of the piece, to flatten it out more, I discovered the letters "ati," upon it, and it flashed into my mind at once where that piece came from. I made no remark to the widow at this point, but told her we would now take the vest in charge, and go down and look into the secretary again. She withdrew from the drawer the letters and papers she had shown me on my first visit, and which I had charged her to keep safe, and I was not long in finding the proper letter (the one I have described heretofore), and adjusting the torn piece to it, it fitted exactly, and the rest of the word--Cincinn--was added to the "ati," and place of date; and then I called Madame K.'s attention to it. My conclusion was, that the thief had, in some way, by accident torn that letter at the time he took the money, and that somehow the piece had gotten into his pocket and he had forgotten it. But it was carefully folded, as I saw, when I essayed to fold it back to the shape I found it in.

While I was doing this, the widow exclaimed,--

"Why Mr. ----, I remember all about it now. I tore the letter to get a piece to wrap up the two ten dollar gold pieces in;" and I saw it was just the fit size as folded. So we had traced the gold pieces into the roofer's vest pocket; and all the rest was clear now. He was the thief. But how should we prove the vest to be his, if he should deny it? I did not wish to leave any loose place in the evidence, and I knew well enough that the roofer was "sharp," and I began to conceive that he would not be easily caught. It would not do to speak to anybody in the house to inquire if he had been seen to wear that vest, for he might be innocent, and the widow did not wish any of her boarders to know that another one was suspected; but fortunately on the inside of the neck of the vest was a little piece of silk, on which, in imitation of needlework, was stamped the maker's name, "H. Schneider, Merchant Tailor, 565 Sixth Avenue, N. Y.," as I made it out with some difficulty. I rolled up the vest in a paper, bade the widow good afternoon, and informing her when she would probably see me next, left.

The next day found me at Mr. Schneider's, the merchant tailor's. He recognized the vest as having been made by him a year and a half before or so, and thought he could, after a while, think for whom he made it. He turned over his books of measurements or orders, to help revive his memory; meanwhile some of his "jours," doing work at home, came in to return and take work, and he inquired of each of them if he made this. One of them remembered the work, and described the man for whom it was made, he having been put to the trouble of making an extra inside pocket. He described the man, and Mr. Schneider was at last able to remember his name, which was that of the roofer; and turning to his index found the name, and the order for the identical vest among other things.

I considered the evidence complete enough; and going to Newark next day, and providing myself with a local officer, then betook myself to the widow's house, and there awaited the return of the young roofer. He came at an unusually late hour that night; and we called him into the parlor,--the madame, the officer, and I,--and I asked him first if that was his vest, showing it him.

"Yes," he replied at once, "that's my vest; but I haven't seen it before in a good while; where did you get it?"

"Among your clothes in the closet, yesterday," I replied; "and it's of no use for us to make words about it. We are here to arrest you for stealing the madame's money. We've traced out all necessary evidence, traced the gold pieces into your pocket, and got the tell-tale piece of paper in our possession which you foolishly overlooked, but left in your vest pocket. We want to settle the matter now, as the madame needs the money more, perhaps, than the law needs you."

The roofer looked at me with blank astonishment, and declared his innocence in a way which would have convinced all ordinary people. None but an old experienced officer could well have refused to believe the man innocent. But I told him it was of no use; that he would be arrested and tried if he did not settle; "and, you see," I added, "that even if you were innocent you could not withstand the evidence we have against you, unless you could prove an absolute _alibi_ on the day the money was taken; but, unfortunately for you on that head, we can show that you were here more hours than usual that day."

He still persisted in declaring his innocence, and acted for all the world like the most innocent of men. I told him he was a capital actor already, and that, perhaps, it would prove the best thing which could possibly happen to him to be caught thus early in his career of crime. He grew apparently indignant; admitted that he gambled a good deal more than he ought to, but declared that he had never been guilty of crime of any sort, and never intended to be; and, said he,--

"I would not have the stigma of the suspicion fixed upon me for all the wealth of New York. It would kill my mother if she came to hear of it, and my father would disinherit me; and I am expecting a good fortune from him some day. I've got into bad habits enough; but I don't drink at all, and I am guilty of no crimes."

I reminded him of the cloves and spices we found in the vest pocket. He made strange of this, and said somebody else must have worn the vest; "that he had no occasion to disguise his breath; that he neither drank liquors, had a foul stomach, or decayed teeth;" and I confess his mouth did look wondrously clean and wholesome.

But of course I was not to be caught with the chaff of protested innocence; and, finally seeing his situation, he thought best not to stand trial, but to settle up, and pay the widow ("under protest, however," he said) for what she had lost, if we would agree to never mention his name in connection with the transaction, and if the widow would allow him to continue to board there for two or three months after she should report that she had finally found the money in another drawer. In that way the very fact of the theft would be concealed, and his reputation be uninjured.

We consented to all this; and as his money was in New York, he agreed to go home with me that night, and remain under arrest at my house, and raise the money the next day, I to accompany him to the bank.

He had some fifteen hundred dollars on deposit in the Chemical Bank, as it seemed, when we went there; that was his balance, and he had had some three or four thousand there as his original deposit. He paid over to me the eight hundred and forty dollars; and on my reminding him that the widow had had a great deal of trouble, and would have a large bill to pay for services, he petulently asked, "How much?" and I said, "Suppose you make it nine hundred in all." He handed me sixty dollars more, with an angry, nervous look; and said it was "a hard thing for an entirely innocent man to be obliged to do; but the evidence looks very bad against me, or I would fight the case till I die." I smiled at him, as I was wont to smile at the guilty, who think to cheat one with words of protested innocence, and bade him good morning, and wended my way speedily to Newark, to report to the widow, and "settle up."

She insisted upon my taking just twice the sum I charged her, and was overjoyed at getting back her money, which she took care to put immediately in bank, and said she should never have any more money by her again than necessary for current expenses. She dreaded to have the roofer come back to board; but said she would abide by the bargain, and she did. He returned as usual that night. Everything went on as before. Madame announced, as was agreed, that the money had been found in another drawer (where, by the way, she, woman-like, insisted that it should be first put by me, in order that she might tell a "white lie" instead of a black one about it); and after the boarders had gratulated her upon her good fortune in finding the money, nothing more was said about the matter. The young roofer continued to board with her, according to the agreement, for some two months, and then left for quarters in New York.

His conduct at the house was perfectly exemplary; and when I saw the widow, on an occasion about a year after, she expressed her satisfaction at having taken no steps at law against him, for the theft, and said, that after all she sometimes would think, now and then, for a minute, that he was innocent; "but then, I think immediately, how absurd!" said she; "and I pity him; but I do believe he will be guilty never of such a crime again." She told me, too, that he had called on her two or three times during the year, and made her pleasant visits. Not a word passed between them about the money.

But the reader must not be over-surprised when I inform him, that about two years after the time I last spoke of above, I found in the examination of another case that the young roofer was, as he always had declared, entirely innocent of the theft, and that the Hungarian lawyer, one of the boarders, well knew that the roofer was innocent, and who was the guilty party, at the time he sent the widow to me. But this latter case has no special connection with the one I have here narrated, and I leave it for another time, stopping simply to say, that circumstantial evidence, while in its general character it is often more reliable than the oral testimony of living witnesses, who may be prejudiced or bribed, is nevertheless sometimes too strong, proves too much, and is liable to be misused. I have known several instances of this kind in my experience.

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THE COUNTERFEIT MONEY SPECULATORS.

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

So long as a false "representative of value" is made a "medium of exchange," whether we call it "money," or what not; or whether it be made of gold, silver, or paper, or any other material, so long, probably, will it, in all its degrees of professed value, be counterfeited; and shrewd men, men who possess logical discrimination enough to see that one humbug is no worse in principle (though worse, perhaps, in the degree of bad principle) than another, will always be devising "illegal" plans of making money, as subtle and keen, almost, as the regular banking business.

It is probable, I think, that nothing more clever in the way of cheating or robbery will ever be invented than the issuing of paper money by private banks; for the business is so adroitly managed that it is highly respectable,--which cannot exactly be said of some other modes of cheating. A bank president and the cashier command much respect in the city or the country village, and conduct their business openly, too. Indeed, they are usually magnates in the community in which they reside, and are intrusted, to large extent, with other people's money, while the unfortunate fellow who cannot procure a proper bank charter, and so has to content himself with running illicitly a humble faro bank, is apt to be frowned upon by the community. Perhaps a more pertinent example of the inability of the masses to discriminate in moral affairs, could not well be suggested.

The country is flooded with counterfeit money, especially of the "fractional currency" kind. Everybody takes it, and nearly everybody who has a ten cent, or twenty-five cent, or fifty cent "representative of value," of the spurious kind, lets it pass on, if it will. The public conscience is not disturbed by these little things; and there are a great many persons who let the one dollar and five dollar counterfeit bills which they chance to receive, "go on doing their accustomed good," into the hands of others. This course is illegal, and therefore "immoral," and not right; and in another sense it is immoral, because it is unjust and thievish in its character. But then, as some simple people may be surprised to learn, nearly all the issues of private banks are also thievish and unjust. Bank bills are not generally issued according to the requirements of the law, and are, therefore, not even legal money, and are of no more real worth than a counterfeit bill, so long as the latter passes. It is in their negotiability, or the passing thereof, that bank bills are valuable or useful as a means of exchange. The counterfeit bill is just as convenient so long as it does the work of "passing."

I do not know what is the fact regarding the private banks of Connecticut, for example, nowadays; but a few years ago an eminent lawyer of that State told me that he presumed there was not a single bill legally issued by any of the Connecticut banks, the circulation of which amounted in the aggregate at that time to millions of dollars. The law of the State of Connecticut limited the issue of bills by any bank to not over ten times as much in representative amount as the "specie or bullion" which the given bank had constantly in its vaults. If the bank's capital was, for example, $200,000, but invested in real estate, then the bank could not properly issue a single dollar, unless by some means it possessed itself of specie to hold in its vaults; even then evading the spirit of the law. But my friend, the lawyer referred to, informed me that none of the banks complied with the rule of keeping the requisite specie in its vaults. Suppose a bank's issues amounted to $300,000; to respect the law it would have to keep $30,000 specie on hand. Is it reasonable even to suppose it would do so when it could readily loan the $30,000 to parties in New York at seven per cent. interest, and thus make them "earn" $2,100 a year? Not at all; and the banks did not heed the law.

But there were Bank Commissioners, whose duty it was (and there are the same still, I suppose) to see to this matter, together with others relating to banks. They visited the banks once or twice a year. When about to make a visit, they sent word to the bank officers when to expect them, and the officers of a given bank in Hartford or New Haven, for example, went to other banks and borrowed from several, for the time being, specie enough in the aggregate to make a "show" with. As the commissioners, after visiting one bank, and making an examination, were about to leave it and go to another, the specie found in the bank examined, was sent off to the other bank, and there did service again; and so on through the series of the city banks. The isolated country banks, like that at Litchfield, had notice of the advent of the Bank Commissioners, and sent to the city banks for a temporary loan of the required specie.

Thus it was that the banks conducted their business illicitly, and it is probable that at no time was a single dollar of their issues properly predicated, and every dollar was therefore illegally issued. But the bills passed,--passed as well as undiscovered counterfeit bills,--and were, in reality, just as fictitious and illegal. But the banks being more sharp, and having more facilities for covering up their iniquity than have the counterfeiters, succeed in swindling the people, year after year, without detection, while the poor counterfeiters are frequently caught and punished, and their "capital" (dies for "making" the money, paper, etc.) is destroyed; and thus their business is interrupted, very much to the detriment of its profits, and their laboriously-earned skill, as "business men," made as nought, and all their valuable time in perfecting themselves in their business also lost. It is sad to reflect upon this; but the picture would be sadder, perhaps, if added to these irregular swindlers, were the regular bank swindlers of the land.

So when one comes to analyze matters, no great moral distinction is found between two persons, one of whom swindles under "color of law," while the other swindles in defiance of law. The latter is perhaps the braver (though less sagacious) man of the two. It is, after all, only a question of taste or expediency; and so is it that the great counterfeiters think. Officers arresting these men, frequently find them ready to defend their cause "on principle." They always avow themselves "as good men as the bankers," and they frequently declare themselves public benefactors, in that they make money plenty, and relieve the stringency of the money market!

"The only good of paper money," once said a great counterfeiter to me, "is to pass; a counterfeit bill is just as good for passing as a genuine bill; and if you folks would let us "private bankers" alone long enough to give us time to perfect our business, we should be able to produce "goods" so perfect that nobody would find any fault with them, and all would feel grateful to us. But it costs us a great deal to get well started in business; and just as we are beginning to thrive, you step in and break us up!"

The man to whom I allude was _serious_ in what he said. Of course he was lacking in moral perceptions, and was, in one sense, demented, or a "great fool;" for he could not see the moral difference between one kind of robbery and another one just like it in principle. I pitied the man's moral obliquity, while I handed him over to the jail-keeper to await trial. (I am sorry to say that the fellow, for some reason, was never brought to trial. The District Attorney "_nolled_" the case, although the evidence was clear enough against the "private banker." I half suspect that the attorney admired the fellow's reasoning, and sympathized with him.)

Under the circumstances, it is not then strange that a large number of persons of excellent talent, are engaged in counterfeiting, or in the distribution (or "shoving," to use the technical phrase), of counterfeit money in this country, and the distributors are to be found in all classes. I have in my mind's eye, as I write, an "honest farmer," in a certain town in the State of Vermont, who manifested, in the goodly "year of our Lord," 1870, an excellent disposition to help the counterfeiters distribute their goods, but who was sadly "disappointed" in his enterprising spirit.

Almost every business has its counterfeiters. As surely as a man conceives of some practical, easy, business way of making money, so sure is he to find a host of competitors springing up about him, and injuring his business. This has been the fate, to considerable extent, of the regular counterfeiters,--the men, who, by their great talent as engravers, have added so much to the mechanical skill of the country. There is a plenty of scamps in such a place as New York, for instance, who always stand ready to profit by other people's labors. (I should not like to be called upon for a classification of these scamps, for fear that the various species of the genus "who profit by other people's labors" might include some reader's most respectable friends.)

The regular counterfeiters have been greatly embarrassed, within the last two or three years, by a lot of unscrupulous villains, who pretend to deal in counterfeit money, and who send their advertising circulars into every town and hamlet in the land. The regular counterfeiters can only thrive when they are able to make their wares pass; and these unscrupulous villains, to whom I allude above, are likely to injure the business, and thus reduce the brave, bold, ingenious counterfeiters to the condition, perhaps, of "private bankers," whose course is that only of cowardly, false pretences, under "color" or shield of the law. This is a state of things which is not a little deplorable--for the counterfeiters.

The business of these unscrupulous villains, whom we will call, if the reader please, counterfeit money speculators (for "speculators" is a name which one should not fail to honor as often as he can), is very extensive. To give the uninitiated reader a little insight into the business of these men, one of their circulars is copied below. It is a fair sample, in regard to its substance, of all that are issued by these "speculators." The one before me, and which I copy here, is a lithographed manuscript letter.

(To explain, for the benefit of youthful readers:--The "speculator" first writes a letter, in neat style of penmanship, and then gets it copied by an engraver on stone, and from the plate thus obtained is able to strike off a large number a day. Probably one third of those who receive these letters do not know that they are, in fact, "printed," and each ignorant receiver feels flattered as he reads the letter that the "speculator" has taken the pains to write to him so extendedly, and is led to "think over" the matter, and finally to "invest," when he would have taken no notice of a "printed" document.)

The letter alluded to runs thus:--

"DEAR FRIEND: While conversing with a gentleman from your
locality recently, you were named as a shrewd and reliable
person, and one likely to enter into a business, the nature of
which will be explained in this letter. At all events, he said,
whether you go in or not you would keep a still tongue, and
would not expose me. He told me that under no circumstances
must I inform you who recommended you; and as I claim to be a
man of honor, I will never violate a pledge. I have on hand,
and am constantly manufacturing large quantities of the best
counterfeit money ever produced in the world. The sizes are
two, five, and ten dollar bills, and fifty cent stamps. They
are printed on first-class bank note paper. The signatures are
perfect, and the engraving is admirable. Not one banker in five
hundred can detect them. I will take a solemn oath that the
bills which I send you will never be detected, unless you make
known your business to persons who have no right to know it. I
shall charge you ten dollars in good money for every one
hundred dollars of mine. If you have confidence in yourself,
and desire to push matters, you had better order as much as you
can get rid of in a month or two. In that case, if you buy as
much as five hundred dollars at a time, I will sell it to you
for twenty dollars cash down, and will allow you thirty days
credit for the remaining thirty dollars. If you purchase one
thousand dollars, I will sell it to you for forty dollars cash
down, and will wait thirty days for the remaining sixty. If you
want to make a desperate, but successful, struggle for a
fortune in a few weeks, I will send you five thousand dollars
for one hundred and eighty dollars cash down, and will wait
thirty days for the remaining three hundred and twenty. Under
no circumstances will I sell less than one hundred dollars
(price ten) at a time. When you send me any money, or a letter,
go to the nearest Railway station, ask the express agent for a
money envelope; insert your letter, seal the envelope, and see
that it is properly directed to me. Don't send me a letter
through the Post Office. The Express Agent never heard of me,
and he will have no idea of the nature of your business. I
would prefer that you would send me money in advance. If you
are unwilling to do so, I will ship whatever quantity you wish
by express, and the Agent will hand you the sealed package as
soon as you pay him the money. That is, I will collect my money
on delivery of goods (C. O. D.). I will make it appear that
your package contains jewelry. If you can spare time come on
and see me. Call at my private office, No. 52 John Street, Room
5, up stairs, New York. I will then take you to my manufactory,
and let you select whatever quantity of bills you desire. No
person in the building knows what business I carry on.
Therefore you are just as safe as if you were going into a
theatre. If any person suspected my business I would not have
you call. Now, sir, if you manage this business properly, you
can clear twenty thousand dollars in a year. You have unusual
advantages for passing the bills with perfect safety. Always
ruffle them up to make them appear dirty and old. You can pass
one of my bills at every store, and as the change you receive
will be genuine, you will be enabled to clear at least two
thousand dollars a month. Not one in a thousand of your
neighbors can distinguish a genuine bill from one of mine.
Therefore you are foolish for not grasping an opportunity to
make money that may never occur again. I could name a man in
your country who made a fortune in the same way. All his
neighbors wonder how he made it. But he keeps a still tongue.
Probably you know who I mean. I deal on the '_square_,' and if
you are true to me you will never regret it. I pray you will
not betray me in case you do not go in. You will find by
dealing with me that I have the best counterfeit money in the
country, and that I deal more honorably than any other man in
the business, because I deal on the '_square_.' I would not ask
you for any cash down for your first order only to secure
myself for the cost of engraving, printing, etc. Read my terms
carefully, and remember them. Bear in mind that I will give no
more credit than I state in this letter. One or two of my
counterfeit bills have already been passed on you, and you have
in turn passed them on others. Therefore you should be familiar
with their appearance and quality. Of course you did not know
they were counterfeits.

"Read the following instructions carefully. Be sure and follow
them; then no mistake can be made. If you come on, call at 52
John Street, Office No. 5, up stairs. But if you send me money,
or a letter by Express, direct it to my manufactory as
follows:--

WM. J. FERGUSON,

No. 194 Broadway, New York City."

Bold in its stupidities and brazen-faced in its assumptions as is the above letter, it has probably deceived hundreds, if not thousands, and the villain "W. J. Ferguson" could doubtless tell many a side-splitting story in regard to the simplicity of his victims. Copies of that and like letters, signed by other names, and sent out by different "speculators," find their way to the farmers', the mechanics', the poor widows', the shop-keepers', and other hands, and hundreds send little sums of money in response--"just to try the thing," if nothing more. I do not intend to animadvert upon the intelligence, sagacity, and moral worth of the masses of "the people of these States," for sufficient comment thereon can be found in the fact that these "speculators" do a thriving business, and if not disturbed by the police authorities would soon be able to build as fine edifices as do the "private bankers," and thus make themselves "a credit to the city of New York," for example, by adorning it!

I have alluded to a man whom I have in my mind's eye. He is a somewhat "queer crittur," as one of his neighbors denominated him, though an "honest farmer," and something of a "horse character," being interested considerably in stock raising. He resides not a thousand miles from Rutland, Vermont, and is "well to do" in the world. The old fellow's name I am under certain obligations to keep secret; but lest his neighbors (especially a jolly blacksmith living in the same "parish" with him, and who gave me some "light" regarding him, and "enjoyed the fun" when I told him of what facts I discovered), should, when reading this, entertain unjust suspicions as to exactly who the "honest farmer" (and member of the ---- church, too!) is, I will simply use the fictitious name of W--orthy P. Row--ley to designate him by.

The exploiting of these "counterfeit-money speculators" became so extensive that at one time complaints were received by the score daily--by the Mayor of New York, and others; and it was finally thought best to take some notice of them. Various means were employed to detect the scamps. One of the most active persons, and who urged their detection and punishment most earnestly, was a man who is, undoubtedly, a regular counterfeiter. This was natural enough, as the "speculators," as will be seen further on, were hurting his business. This man had relatives in Vermont, and in some way it became suspected that the "honest farmer," who sometimes visited to New York, and put up at the Bull's Head Hotel, on Third Avenue, bringing with him a blooded horse for sale now and then, was one of his relations. (But this proved not to be the case. He had been in his company, but was not related to him by blood, though slightly so, as the sequel will show, as a "business man.")

Circumstances so occurred in the ferreting out of some counterfeiters, that suspicion fell upon the "honest farmer" as one of their aids in the distribution or "shoving" of the "queer" (the flash or business name for counterfeit money), and it was thought that he was wanted. So I was delegated to wait on the gentleman "at or near" his residence.

He was in the habit of visiting Canada two or three times a year to buy up stock (cattle mostly), and import them into Vermont, and prepare them for market. This was one of his "side issues," as he said. When I arrived in his town I found he had gone to Canada, and that I should be obliged to wait a day or two for his return. Meanwhile I made as much investigation into the affairs of the old fellow (for he is a man of nearly sixty years of age) as I could safely; and from an enemy or two of his discovered enough to learn that he might be as guilty as he was suspected to be, and I prepared myself for "investigating" the old fellow on his return.

To go into details of how I approached the "honest farmer," and what progress I made in studying him as connected with the regular counterfeiting business, as an agent in distributing the "queer" in Vermont,--and somewhat in Canada, as was supposed,--would make my narrative too long. But I found at last, to my satisfaction, and surprise as well, that that W. P. R., the "honest farmer," had no connection with the business we suspected him to be engaged in. But I found also something which might have surprised me regarding a man of his general shrewdness, if I had not known many equally astute men made fools of.

The "honest farmer" had received, from time to time, letters like that which is quoted herein from Mr. "Ferguson." At first he paid no attention to them. Finally his speculative nature became whetted, and out of "pure curiosity," as he asserted to me so often as to excite my suspicions that he had far other motive, he entered into correspondence with the "New York gentlemen," which resulted in his sending to the speculators ten dollars in greenbacks, for which he was entitled, according to their offer, to receive one hundred dollars in counterfeit bills. He gave instructions as to how he would prefer to have it sent, namely, by express, in a square box, well wrapped and sealed up, and he stated about what size. His correspondents were instructed to write on the corner of the package, "One doz. Condition." (This, he said, would be understood by "the railroad folks," and his neighbors, if they saw it, to mean "Condition powders,"--medicine for horses.)

The box came to the railroad station near him. He was apprised of its arrival, and went for it himself. This was in the daytime, and he "wasted time" on his way home, so as to arrive in the night. ("Didn't want to let his folks know," he said, "how deuced foolish his curiosity had made him.") He drove under the "shed" attached to his "home barn," and quietly took the box down into a cellar of "the old house"--an old dilapidated, untenanted house, in which some of the products of the farm, and a few farm tools, and some old barrels were kept; and down into the cellar of the old house he went, and deposited there the box, and then went in, "washed up," and sat down with his family to supper.

After supper he was uneasy to investigate the package; and making an errand "to the barn," procured an old candle, and (forgetting the "barn") hastened into the cellar, managing to fasten the cellar door with a rope which he tied to the handle. He _said_ he did this for fear somebody might see a light through an end "winder" of the cellar, and come down and "ketch" him at the "silly job;" but I have my suspicions that the "honest farmer" had other reasons than that of pride for his secrecy. He put the box on the head of an old barrel, and the candle on another, and began to unfold his treasures. Roll after roll of "old brown papers and newspapers" he cut off, and wadding them up, one after another, laid them on the head of the barrel on which stood the light, or threw them on the floor.

There was a marvelous waste of paper, he said, in "doin' up that 'are box." At last he came to the box (a small, oblong, wooden, affair which he showed me), which I should think to be about eight inches in length by four in width and depth, and the original use of which, if it had any, I could not conjecture. The cover was barely tacked on. Pulling off this, he presently came upon a few scraps of old iron, and a few bits of what he thought were paving stones, and not a single dollar of counterfeit money did his search reveal.