--------------
A MAN OF THE OLDEN TYPE--HIS SAD STORY ABOUT HIS WIFE AND
HIMSELF--THEY ADOPT A BRIGHT BOY--THE WIFE'S PROPHET
SPECULATIONS ABOUT THE BOY--THE BOY GROWS UP, AND GOES TO
COLLEGE--A PLEASANT YEAR--HE LEARNS CERTAIN MYSTERIES OF
LIFE--STUDENTS' PITCHED BATTLE WITH THE FACULTY OF THE
COLLEGE--OF THE "WHITE HORSE"--A WHILE IN A LAWYER'S
OFFICE--BECOMES A MERCHANT--MAKING MONEY TOO FAST--A FATAL
HOUR--THE VORTEX OF WALL STREET--SUNDRY FORGERIES--A STRANGE
CAREER--AN IMPORTANT WITNESS LOST, AND FOUND IN THE INSANE
RETREAT, HARTFORD, CONN.--A TERRIBLE COMPLICATION OF AFFAIRS;
LAWYERS AND ALL BAFFLED--I AM CALLED IN TO WORK UP THE
CASE--DIFFICULTIES ENCOUNTERED--FATE INTERPOSES--WENTWORTH, THE
INSANE WITNESS, RECOVERS--A VAST DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BLACK INK
AND BLUE INK--DYING OF GRIEF--AN UNHAPPY HOUSEHOLD.
I was sitting one day in my office, about noon, in July, 1858, with
windows up, coat off, my legs sprawled upon the table, and fanning
myself for a breath of living air out of the sweltering atmosphere. I
had tried to enjoy my position (but there was no joy for me on that
day) only a few minutes, when I heard a strong tap at the open door,
and without looking around, I called out, "Come in!" with what I
suspect was a peculiar emphasis, for presently an old man stood before
me aghast, as if he knew not what to think.
"You are Mr. ----?"
"Yes, sir, the same."
"Mr. ----, the detective officer?"
"Yes, sir, the detective officer. But pray, sir, take a seat," said I,
seeing that the man meant business, doubtless; and I pointed him to a
seat near the window.
"What can I do for you, sir?" I asked.
"That's just what I've come to see," said he.
I scanned the man. He was evidently from the country. His manner and
dress showed this; but there was something remarkably intelligent about
his well-cut, smoothly-shaven face, which was square at the base, with
those wide cheeks, which distinguished so many of the rare men of
revolutionary days. Jefferson's face will give one a good notion of
what I mean. This style of face has gone almost "out of fashion" in
these days, only one here and there having been transmitted by the
sires of the republic. I am always attracted to these faces, and
although they denote firmness, amounting to obstinacy sometimes, I have
never found one not belonging to a man of unquestioned respectability
and probity.
"It's a warm day, sir," said I, as he took his seat; "and you must
pardon me for my being in undress, sir; but, really, I can't endure a
coat to-day. Wouldn't you like to pull off your own? Make yourself
perfectly at home, sir."
"O, no, sir; thank you. _I_ am not warm; on the other hand, I am cold,"
and the old man buttoned his coat about him.
I was surprised, for I saw that he was evidently healthy, and then I
conjectured that his frigidity on that hot day must proceed from
intense mental suffering, and I asked him,--
"Did you call to see me professionally?"
"Yes, sir; I have been recommended by my attorney, Judge Hoffman, to
call upon you and lay a case before you, which he says you may possibly
be able to work out; and if _you_ can't, he tells me to give up trying
further. He has exhausted his powers upon it, and my all depends upon
it," and the old man's voice discovered a slight tremor as he uttered
the last words, and excited my interest intensely.
"Tell me your story in detail, leaving out nothing that you can
remember, however trivial, and I will listen patiently; take your time."
The old gentleman, taking me at my word, and beginning with a "You must
know," recited his own early history, which had no bearing on the case
in issue, as I soon saw; but I let him go on; so much had his real
trouble weighed upon his mind that he seemed to think the line which
led to it ran through his whole life.
He was a farmer and a country merchant, who had, at the age of
twenty-two, succeeded to the estate of his father, who was also a
farmer and a merchant; that is, he "kept store" in a respectable
country farming town, and "carried on farming" besides, with the aid of
"hired men," whom he supervised. He was a man--that is, my visitor--of
more than ordinary information, probably a great reader, and at one
time the leading "Whig" of his place--the village oracle, in fact, at
whose "store" the country people gathered of nights to hear him talk
politics, and doubtless to debate among themselves the issues of those
days when Clay was the idol of the great, respectable Whig party of the
land. The old man was able to narrate a story with great fidelity, and
showed a mind well disciplined. I had but few questions to ask him, as
he went on in his narrative, and when he had concluded, I had already
conceived a theory of the case, which in due time I proceeded to verify
in practice.
He was then seventy-eight years old, he said; was married at
thirty-four, his wife still living. They had had one child, a son, born
in his father's thirty-seventh year, but who died at the age of four
years, just when he had begun to be most interesting, the delight, of
course, of his parents. The old man descanted, in pathetic terms, upon
his desolation over the loss of that dear child, and said it came near
bringing his mother to her grave; that she had never since been the
same woman as before; that she never laughed aloud now, as she used to
when they were first married, being then a woman of very jocular
habits, and full of boisterous fun. "Since then," said he, "she has
only faintly smiled, now and then, over something which pleased her
fancy or met her hearty approval. No ordinary occurrence can bring a
smile or a tear to her eye. But she is a dear, dear woman; and now that
a great grief is upon us, I suffer more for her sake than my own."
The old man's voice grew husky as he proceeded, and I confess that,
accustomed though I was to tales of horror, and feeling always that
nothing of a wretched nature could ever surprise or move me to deep
emotions, I felt for him nevertheless, and entered into the spirit of
his soul before I knew what were its griefs.
The old gentleman continued his tale.
"For some years after the death of our child my wife was disconsolate
beyond my power to give her any relief. She used to keep to the house
constantly; never went abroad among the neighbors, but treated them all
kindly when they called at the house, and with no diversion except her
household duties, led almost a hermit's life, avoiding seeing
whomsoever she decently could. I fitted up a little private room for
her, and beguiling her time with reading and with her devotions she
spent most of her days. I sought every means to comfort her; called
children to the house to play. She was very fond of children, and would
chat and chaffer with them to make them happy, as if she too enjoyed
it; but there was always a sadness mingled with her smiles upon them
even. But I must not stop to tell you too much of this. And now, sir,
in our old age has come a grief which weighs her down as did the loss
of our blessed, only child.
"I must tell you that, after years had passed, I finally induced my
wife to consent to my adopting a bright boy--a cheerful, handsome lad
of eight years of age, whose father was a good, honest laborer on my
farm, but had been killed some months before by the falling upon him of
a tree which he had cut. He having lost his life in my employ, I felt a
particular interest in his family, and having aided the mother to get
situations for her five other children, had defrayed her expenses back
(with an infant in arms) to her native place in Rhode Island, according
to her desire, and took the boy, of whom I spoke, to bring up, educate,
and establish in business.
"At first my wife, though she admired the boy's beauty and his manners,
which were very gentle, did not open all her heart to him, and had
misgivings that in her state of mind she should be able to do by the
boy as she ought. And one day, after he had been with us a few weeks,
she said to me, 'What if William should not grow up a good man?
Sometimes I feel, I know not why, that he will not. He is very "deep,"
and if his talents, as he grows up, should chance to take a wrong
course, he might be a very bad man, and it would break my heart to
think that we had brought him up in the place of our angel who is in
heaven,' and she burst into tears, and I consoled her; but, sir, the
terrible day which she seemed to then anticipate, has come, and her
heart _is_ broken indeed.
"I know, sir, you must lose your patience to hear me talk of these
things, but though I am old in years in comparison with you, yet it is
not years that makes me so weak to-day. I feel as if I were a hundred
years old, and you must pardon my imbecilities."
I assured the old man that I was far from being impatient with his
story, for I knew full well that he could never make me an intelligent
narrative of the facts I should need to know, if his business proved of
real importance, until he had delivered his mind of these special
burdens; and so I waited patiently to the end of his story, which it
took far more time to reach than I can afford in this narrative.
The young, adopted lad, William, it seems, enjoyed all the advantages
of the village school, and of the preparatory academy in the shire town
of the county in which the old man resided, and whither, at a distance
of some twelve miles from his own home, the old man (taking his wife
often) visited the lad at least once a week, and sometimes twice,
especially if by any means the old gentleman could contrive to have a
"business" excuse for going there, during the boy's whole course at the
preparatory school, so great was his affection for him; and, finally,
being well prepared, and giving high promise of becoming a great
scholar, and a great man, the lad, or now well-grown young man, was
sent off to college. During his first collegiate year he bore himself
faultlessly, and achieved a high position in his class, in some
branches of study being at the head. The old gentleman said that his
own pride was never so flattered in all his life as when the boy came
home at the end of the year and all the village was talking of the
honors he had won. He said he felt a relief then, as if he had a staff
well grown, and to grow still stronger and stronger in the coming
years, upon which to lean in his own declining years--a young
counsellor, whose judgment already good, would grow better and better.
The boy had always been good, courteous, and obliging to the old man
and his wife; but now, at the end of his first collegiate year, he
seemed to have grown still better, if possible. Vacation being passed
in perfect happiness for that household, the old gentleman accompanied
William back to college, the wife bidding them God-speed on their
journey, with copious tears flooding her face. "Come back, William,
just as good a boy as you now are, and I will try to be better to you
than I have ever been," said she; and William bade her dry her tears
(while his own blinded his eyes), told her that she had always been
more than a mother to him, and assured her that he thought of her and
his happy home a hundred times a day, and could not, he hoped, but grow
better himself every time he thought of home.
"We thought," said the old man, "then, that that was the happiest day
of our lives; and when I returned home, after seeing William back again
in the college, we talked over, day after day, the happiness of the
parting hour, and every letter we got from William, who always wrote
once a week at least, prompted us to remember that 'holy day,' as we
called it, and we talked it over and over.
"But the next collegiate year brought William home, with a different
report about him. He was still forward in his classes, but during the
winter term had begun to grow a little wild; had attended a
dancing-school privately, against the rules of the college, and had
begun to feel himself 'man enough to control his own conduct,' etc.
Indeed, on account of the expression of a great degree of obstinacy and
self-will, with not a little defiance of the professors on a certain
occasion, when they had thought best to gently hint a sort of reproval
of some act of his, William had come near being 'suspended,' as the
phrase is, for a while; that is, dismissed from the college for a
season, to return on conditions. But he was not suspended finally, and
had come home still a member of the college. But he had had a taste of
certain liberties, had learned to look upon some things, such as
'card-playing for fun,' and which he had been used to look upon with
horror, as a foolish, sinful way of spending time, as not, after all,
so very bad. But I need not recite these things; for his career was
from the good, gently at first, and by slow steps to the bad--much like
that of everybody else who has followed the like path. William did not
finish his junior years, finding it convenient to withdraw from the
college during the spring term (as he was, by the grace of the faculty,
permitted to do, instead of being expelled, in consideration of the
entreaties of his adopted father, the good old man, who had been sent
for to confer with the faculty). William had been engaged, with a score
of other students, in some mischief, which, though not seriously bad at
first, led to a terrible fight between these students and the
authorities of the college-town, or city, rather, in which William had
drawn a pistol, and attempted to make use of it (as he always claimed,
however, in strict defence of his life), against some of the opposing
party. But the pistol, being fortunately snatched from his hands, no
blood was shed. William would not acknowledge to the faculty that he
had been wrong in drawing his pistol with the purpose of making bloody
use of it, but, on the other hand, insisted that, under like
circumstances, he would do the same again, in self-defence, as he
claimed. The faculty would not yield, and permitted him, in conclusion,
to withdraw. And William went home, a somewhat altered young man, but
beloved by all the villagers about him, some of whom, however,
sometimes said, there was 'a great deal of the "wild-horse" in him
which has got to come out in some way, some time;' but they little
thought what lay in the line of William's career."
Having thus left college, the question arose, what William should do,
what profession or business he should pursue? First, he was inclined to
take up the study of the law, and entered the office of Mr. Mills, the
only lawyer of the village; but Mr. Mills was far from being a profound
or scholarly man, had but a meagre practice, and, on the whole,
William, who had read over Blackstone, Chitty's Contracts, and some
other works whose names the old man had forgot, and of which I know as
little, came to the conclusion, that though he liked to read law, he
should not like to practise it, and that course was abandoned; and
William, thinking he would become a business man, entered the old man's
little store. After a while he was intrusted to go to the city and make
the little periodical replenishing purchases, and developed great taste
and sagacity in his purchases. In fact, he had rare talents as a
merchant, and it was not long before a place was found for him in New
York, with a then ruling firm, where he speedily advanced, so as to be
offered an interest in the concern. He had managed to lay up a little
money for himself, but the old gentleman furnished him ten thousand
dollars more,--a large sum, it was then thought,--the villagers
thinking that the old gentleman was almost wild to part with that sum,
which would then have bought two or three good farms in the vicinity of
the village. Thus provided, William went into the partnership, and his
business went on flourishing till, at the end of five years, he became
the second member in importance in the concern; and though not married,
had built a very fine summer residence in the outskirts of the old
village, and filled and surrounded it with every comfort.
"I fear William Roberts is living too fast," some old villager would
say. "He'll make money easy and spend it as easy. Easy comes, easy
goes, you know."
"O, no, he won't. He knows the value of money," another would say. "The
old man's taught him that. He knows how to hold on to a dollar."
"You see," said the old man, with a curious look in his eye, as he
related what he used to hear (and sometimes overhear), that his
neighbors said, "that they always thought me, up there, a little _too_
economical."
But William Roberts had made money too fast, as the sequel showed; he
lived too high, contracted expensive habits, and, eventually, it got to
be rumored that he indulged sometimes "in cards for fun;" but now the
"fun" meant, the excitement of gambling for money. His business house
knew nothing of this, and were unsuspicious of it for a long while,
though William made large drafts upon it; but these not being more than
he was entitled to, nothing was said about it. But finally he insisted
on drawing at one time--when the house really needed the money to help
carry on its business--the sum of five thousand dollars, and was rather
curt and severe upon his partners on their remonstrating; and they
began to look about them, and came to learn of Mr. Roberts's gambling
habits; and, fearful of him, arranged, after a long while, to buy him
out, accepting his figures on demand. This was the most fatal hour in
his life.
With some fifty thousand dollars, cash in hand, Mr. Roberts could not
control himself, and, with the spirit of gambling upon him, rushed
deeper into dissipation--more deeply than ever. Together with his
gambling pursuits at night, Mr. Roberts went into Wall Street by day,
drawn there by the allurements of certain acquaintances, who presented
to him visions of stupendous wealth to be early won. Mr. Roberts was,
withal, a self-reliant man, and believed he could take his part among
the bold and fiery contestants of the street; and went into that
vortex, where so many brave souls have been wrecked, with greatest
confidence, only to find himself, at the end of six months, penniless
and poor, save in the country residence, which has been before alluded
to. He applied to his adopted father now; told him the whole story; and
evidently penitent over his wanderings and rashness, was again aided
into business in a comparatively small way. But his talents were good,
and for a while he pursued a line of success. But the old gambling
mania came over him again, and he fell; and this time deeper than
before.
In his extremity, he had forged certain drafts on the bank in which his
firm did business, intending to keep all dark, and make these good in
time. Though they were not large, he found he could not meet them at
the proper time by the fitting deposits without further steps in crime.
So he resorted to the country bank, in which his adopted father kept
his funds, with drafts in the name of his father, from time to time,
which were borrowed and paid; but these came so frequently as to excite
the suspicions of the president of the bank, that Mr. Roberts was
getting an undue influence over my client, his father; and so one day
meeting the old gentleman (whose real name I have no right to disclose,
but whom we will call Mr. Brown, for convenience), the president said,--
"Mr. Brown, Mr. Roberts seems to have occasion to use a great deal of
money."
"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Brown, "he is doing a fine, large business
since he's got on his feet again, after his 'failure'" (for it was by
the modest word 'failure' that Mr. Brown always referred to the
disastrous career of Roberts among his country friends).
The president, believing from Mr. Brown's reply that all was correct
with Roberts, since he, if anybody, must know all about his business,
he thought, said no more, and moved on. However, something suggested to
him, when Roberts came to present the next check, to make matters more
satisfactory to the bank, and to avoid any complaint on the part of Mr.
Brown, against whom the debit side of his account was getting fearfully
large, that when the day of settlement should come, he, Roberts, should
obtain Mr. Brown's power of attorney to draw when and in what amounts
he should like.
The president, on future reflection, thought Roberts acted a little
"nervous" over this suggestion; but Roberts's ready acceptance of the
advice caused him to forget it on the instant, and he had no suspicion
whatever that Mr. Brown's name was counterfeited on the checks. In
proper time Roberts appeared with a power of attorney, duly made, and
purporting to be Mr. Brown's, which was securely lodged in the bank.
By and by Mr. Brown, who used his bank mostly as one of deposit, being
then retired from business, and having money enough for his current
wants accruing from the rent of some two or three farms, and his
store-house, and interest on money lent to surrounding farmers, and
having no business occasion to often visit the bank, going one time to
the shire town on business, thought he would make a friendly call at
the bank for a moment on his friend the president.
On his calling, the usual hand-shaking and salutations took place, and
were followed by the usual gossip about a little of everything and
nothing; and Mr. Brown, who had been invited to a seat in the
directors' room, rose to retire, bidding the president good day. As he
was passing out, he spoke jocularly to the president,--
"The banks' breaking, I suppose, does not disturb _you_? Bank's sound,
I take it. You've got my deposits all safe as the rest, I dare say,
eh?" with a little chuckle, as if he thought he had expended a little
salutary wit.
"Yes, perfectly safe, what there's left of 'em. Can't tell you exactly,
without looking, how the account stands; but some balance yet to your
credit."
Brown thought the president was joking, laughed a little, and went out.
He had not gone far on his way, however, when, recalling the
president's manner when speaking, he began to think he wasn't joking.
But Mr. Brown drove on and on. At last he got to be uneasy, and
determined to go back to ask the president what he meant by that word
"balance." The president was surprised by the query, and answered,--
"Why, I mean that Roberts has not yet drawn out all your funds on that
power of attorney."
"Power of attorney? What do you mean?"
The president was confounded. He saw that old Mr. Brown was either
forgetful, or that there was some wrong somewhere. He caused the
cashier to look up Mr. Brown's account, and draw the balance, and
presented the same to Mr. Brown; who, in turn, was confounded, said he
had given Roberts no drafts, or any power of attorney. The latter was
produced. Mr. Brown could not believe his own eyes. So perfectly like
his own signature was that of the power of attorney, that he clasped
his hand to his head, and after deep thought for a few moments, said to
the president,--
"Well, I would not believe it. It seems like a dream to me. I cannot
remember when I signed that power of attorney; but I must have done it
in some hour of weakness for there's John Wentworth's name to it as
witness, and I know his handwriting well. He has borrowed money of me
often, and given his notes. But, see here, if my name is forged, so may
John's be. I don't know anything about this power of attorney."
The checks drawn before the power of attorney was presented by Roberts
to the bank were new to Mr. Brown. He was surprised by his exact
signature to these, and the filling out of some of them as well, in his
own handwriting apparently. But sure he could not remember ever giving
one of them.
"Do you think," said the bank president, who understood the situation
of things if these should all prove forgeries, and wishing to save the
bank from loss,--"do you think sometimes, Mr. Brown, that your memory
fails you at all as you grow older?"
"O, yes," said the honest old man, "I do. I find I forget a good many
things. Well, well; have I come to this?"
What occurred thereafter, would be wearisome to recite in detail.
Suffice it that search was made for Wentworth, the witness, by both Mr.
Brown and the bank; but he was not to be found immediately. His
signature was shown to several persons who knew his handwriting, and
all declared it his. Roberts, in some way, got wind of the old man's
having visited the bank, and he, too, was not to be found, and so
matters stood for a while.
At last it was found out that Wentworth, who had a pretty good farm,
which he worked only a part of the year, and occupied himself as a
pedler, with a wagon, through quite a large circuit of country the rest
of the time, had been taken to the Insane Retreat, at Hartford, Conn.
His "team" having been run into and capsized one night on the road by
another "team" furiously driven by some drunken men, Wentworth being
violently thrown against a large rock, head foremost, and receiving
such injuries as quite severely damaged his mind. He, therefore, could
not be "improved" to determine whether his signature was veritable or
not.
Mr. Brown had, meanwhile, persuaded himself that the "power of
attorney" was a forgery; that he had _not_ suffered any such mental
weakness at any time as would have allowed him to give such an
instrument to Roberts. In fact, he knew that it was a forgery. Great
though his grief was over the heartless conduct of Roberts, Mr. Brown
could not make up his mind to tell his wife the facts. She noticed his
sorrow, which he, upon her frequent inquiry, attributed to bodily ills,
and time went on. Eventually Mr. Brown made up his mind that perhaps he
ought to be willing to bear a part of the loss; and after consulting
his lawyer about it, went to the bank, and generously offered to
compromise; to lose half his deposit, if the bank would pay him the
other half, or sixteen thousand five hundred dollars. But the directors
seeing the advantage they had of him, refused to entertain his offer
for a moment, affecting to believe the drafts and power of attorney
genuine.
At last Mr. Brown broke the matter to his wife. She was struck with
horror; but in the end counselled him to let it all go, inasmuch as
they had enough left to "scrub along on the rest of their lives," as
she expressed it, with economy. But the manner of his old friend, the
president, when announcing to him the course taken by the directors,
had greatly piqued Mr. Brown, and he was determined to have all his
money at last. The great legal difficulties in the way were, however,
insurmountable in the opinion of his attorney, who had exhausted his
own resources in trying to get the proper testimony to set aside the
power of attorney, and finally Mr. Brown had applied to me.
I had heard his long story with greatest patience, seeing nothing
tangible up to this point to take hold of. Wentworth might not recover
in years, if ever; Roberts was out of the way, and would, perhaps,
never be found. All his neighbors would identify Mr. Brown's signatures
as veritable, and he himself had admitted to the bank president, on the
day of the disclosure of his claimed indebtedness, that he found
himself frequently forgetful; and had half admitted that he might have
been led to sign the power of attorney in some hour of weakness. The
case was desperate. I pondered it over a while, and finally asked Mr.
Brown if he could give me the _date_ of the power of attorney. He could
not. I asked him then to go to the bank with some friend, and ask to
see it, and note the date; telling him that this was the first
essential thing for me to know. Before Mr. B. left my office, I had
planned a course of operations, all of which I did not develop to him,
however. In the course of a few days Mr. Brown sent me a letter, saying
that the date of the instrument was the 26th of June, 185-. I turned to
my diary for that year, and found where I was on that day,--at Coney
Island, with quite a large party, who went down on the excursion
steamer Belle, early in the day, and were gone all day; and, as I knew
Roberts very well by sight, I was sure that I remembered his being
there that day. Light began to gather in my mind. Perhaps Mr. Brown,
too, could remember where he was that day; and I sent for him, told him
what I wanted to know; and he was sure, on reflection (as was
afterwards found certain), that he was visiting, during a week which
covered the 26th of June, with his wife, some old friends at Danbury,
Connecticut. So much being learned, I lost no time in hunting up
parties who were at Coney Island that day, and established the fact,
beyond doubt, that Roberts was there.
Next I turned my attention to Wentworth's case, and found that he was
at Philadelphia that day, and the day before, making some purchases;
and also found a letter from him to a brother, dated at Pittsburgh,
Pa., on the 29th of June, in which we found a statement to the effect
that he had left home on the 24th of June; had been in Philadelphia for
a day or two; had gone from there to Pittsburgh, and should be "back
about the 4th of July." We also found a man who had come on from
Pittsburgh to New York with Wentworth on the 3d of July, and who had
met him there several times a day, and for several days before. Armed
with these facts, we went to the bank, and presented our evidence
frankly, and were surprised at the officers' then refusing to pay over
the money.
Suit was brought by Mr. Brown for the recovery of his money, and the
bank undertook to keep it in court, thinking to weary out old Mr.
Brown, and effect a compromise, perhaps.
But the old man grew more vigorous and confident as court after court
sat, and the case was put over upon one pretence or another. But this,
after all, was no disparagement to Mr. Brown's cause, for, before he
could force the suit on to trial, Wentworth recovered his mind and
health; and being apprised of what was going on, declared that he had
not seen Roberts for several months before the 26th of June, and had
not seen him since; and knew that he had never witnessed such an
instrument for Mr. Brown. Wentworth also kept an accurate business
diary, which covered all the time, and corroborated the testimony that
we had secured of his being on that day, and before and after, in
Pittsburgh, etc. Wentworth accompanied Mr. Brown and his attorney to
the bank to see the power of attorney, and they were informed that it
was at their attorney's; but the officers would give no order that he
might see it. But Mr. Brown's attorney, conceiving that the bank's
attorney would not refuse him a professional courtesy, took Mr. Brown
and Wentworth to his brother lawyer's office, and they were at once
shown the document. Looking at it for a moment in astonishment,
Wentworth exclaimed,--
"No; that signature is not mine. The 'e' in the name ain't just as I
make it; besides, I haven't signed my name, or written a letter, or
made an entry in black ink, in many years (the signature was in black).
I always use blue."
"But," interposed the bank's attorney, "you may not have had blue ink
at hand when you witnessed that instrument."
"I tell you," said Wentworth, in a manner which could not be mistaken
for its firm honesty, "I never witnessed that instrument. I never can
use anybody's else pen, and I always go prepared," said he, taking out
from his side coat pocket an old, long, portable inkstand, with a pen
held in its leathern case. "There, I've carried that, now, for over
eight years, and I have never written a word from any other inkstand,
with any other pen but my own, or any kind of ink but blue, in all that
time."
His manner convinced the lawyer of the bank that it was of no use to go
to trial with such testimony against the bank, and he very frankly said
so; and that he should advise immediate settlement, which he did; and
old Mr. Brown recovered his whole deposit, with interest from the time
he brought suit, and with sundry "costs."
But both he and Mrs. Brown declared that they felt no better after the
recovery of the money, for, after the struggle to obtain it was passed,
and the excitement was over, the heartless conduct of Roberts seemed to
oppress them only the more, and Mr. Brown, after a year or two, pined
away and died. Mrs. Brown is still living at this writing, an unhappy
woman, when I last saw her.
As for Roberts, it is believed that he is leading a miserable life in
the mining districts of California, under the name of William Simpson;
but this is a conjecture, founded on testimony hardly sufficient to be
relied on.
Thus were wrecked Roberts's bright hopes, and the happiness of his
faithful old adopted parents. Playing cards "for fun," at first, not
unfrequently leads to disastrous, deplorable, ends--to unalterable
wretchedness.
------------------------------------------------------------------------