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THE INNOCENT OFTEN SUFFER WITH THE GUILTY--THE DETECTIVES'
"KEYS"--REGRETS--LEONARD SAVAGE, A YOUNG MAN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE,
AND HIS FAMILY STOCK--RICHARD BROOKS, A WEALTHY NEW YORK
MERCHANT--HIS VISIT TO YOUNG SAVAGE'S FATHER--RESULTS--PARTIAL
BIOGRAPHY OF MR. BROOKS, IN WALL STREET AND ELSEWHERE--A SLAVE
TO FORTUNE--A FATHER'S PRIDE--MR. BROOKS'S FEARFUL DREAM--MR.
BROOKS IN THE OLD HOME OF HIS CHILDHOOD--HOW A TRUE MAN TREATS
HIS WIFE--FAMILY ASPIRATIONS--THE LOVE OF YOUNG MEN--COUNTRY
AND CITY TEMPTATION--A "NEW SUIT," AND A TRIP TO THE
MOUNTAINS--A SURPRISING PRESENT--A HAPPY SEASON--A FEARFUL
CHANGE COMES--THE TERRIBLE RESULTS OF AN UNJUST JUDGMENT--ONE
OF THE STRANGEST THINGS EVER KNOWN--A CATHOLIC PENITENT AN
ACTOR IN THE SCENES--REMORSE--UNRAVELLINGS IN AN UNEXPECTED
WAY--A SPEEDY VOYAGE TO EUROPE TO RESTORE THE WRONGED TO HIS
RIGHT PLACE.
It is one of the misfortunes of a detective's life, that he learns to
be suspicious of the innocent as well as of the guilty; and, like other
men, detectives sometimes err in their judgment, and the innocent
suffer, not only under unjust suspicions, but sometimes the penalty of
offences of which they are not guilty, through the force of
"circumstantial evidence" which is brought to bear upon them. Indeed,
in the eye of the law, circumstantial evidence is frequently of more
weight than the direct testimony of alleged eye-witnesses, for the
latter may falsify, but circumstances do not create themselves, and do
not often occur simultaneously or in combination. There can be no
"conspiracy" among them, as between living witnesses. They have no
prejudices to express, no animosities to gratify, and we usually attach
to them the greatest importance. Indeed, they are the keys usually, by
which the detective unlocks the mysteries of the case which he may be
called on to work up.
But notwithstanding all this, they are not always to be relied on; and
when the innocent suffer from the misuse of these keys, or the
misinterpretation of their significance, the officer who uses them must
feel more keen regrets, if not remorse, than if he had been misled by
the statements of living men, inasmuch as it is his duty to himself and
his calling, as well as to his fellow-men, to draw wise and just
conclusions from the circumstances of which he gets possession; and in
what I am about to tell, I would be most gratified if I could make
partial amends, publicly, of the result of an error of mine and others,
by using the names of the party wronged. But the whole matter was known
only to a few, some of whom are dead, others of whom are in business
with the party wronged; and there are one or two more whose sympathy
for the innocent wronged man, has, since the discovery of his
innocence, only added to the high esteem in which they held him. And it
were not wise for him that I give publicity to what was known to so
few, and is to-day practically forgotten by them. As I may not give the
proper names, I will, for convenience, coin them, while I give the
important facts in the luckless and unhappy case.
Leonard Savage was a bright boy, brought up in a town in Grafton
County, New Hampshire, and born of one of the best of the old stocks of
that State--a stock which had had its important representatives at the
bar, on the bench, in Congress, in the pulpit, in the profession of
medicine, in journalism (at Boston); in short, in every department of
life, not to overlook farming, in which its representatives had always
excelled. Leonard had been prepared for Dartmouth College, whither he
was expecting, on the opening of the next scholastic year, to go, and
with bright prospects; for at the preparatory school he excelled all
his mates in some branches, and was their peer in the rest, when, in
the summer of 184--, a relative of his, an elderly gentleman, and a New
York banker, visited the White Mountains for recreation, with his
family, and called on Leonard's parents on his way.
This gentleman, whom we will call Richard Brooks, for the sake of a
name, was born in New Hampshire, and, indeed, was raised there, at a
place about twenty miles from Leonard's father's, the two being about
the same age. He had visited his native spot, where he had not been
before for twenty-five years, the day or so before coming to Mr.
Savage's house. At his native place he found but few faces he
recognized, and all his relatives were either dead or had "moved to the
West, or the South." "Nothing left there," said he, "of mine, save the
sleepers in the graveyard, and the mouldering monuments over them." He
became so mournful that he felt unlike proceeding at once to the
mountains; and calling to mind the joys of his early days, when he and
Mr. Savage, who were devoted friends as well as relatives, used to
interchange frequent visits, even over that long distance of twenty
miles,--longer in New Hampshire, over hills and mountains, than fifty
miles would be in our western prairie States, or even along the line of
the Hudson River, in New York,--he set his heart upon a visit to Mr.
Savage, who, he learned, was still living in the old spot, though for
fifteen years he had not heard from him, so absorbed had Mr. Brooks
been by the exciting life of a Wall Street dealer, and with some
operations which had called him more or less to Europe.
Early in life he had gone to Georgia (the southern portion of it, Fort
Gaines, I believe), in a small mercantile business, which grew upon his
hands into something quite important, where he married a wealthy
planter's daughter, and was able, through this alliance, to enlarge his
sphere of business, which eventually became very great, and was
scattered over a large district.
Mr. Brooks's early New England training had well disciplined natural
capacities of no mean kind, and given him advantages as a business man
at the South, equalled but by very few if any. His rise was rapid.
Visiting New York on his bridal tour, his lady formed certain
acquaintances there, which led her, southern born though she was, to
desire New York as a home. She constantly urged Mr. Brooks to dispose
of his, or rather their scattered business and interests in the South,
preserving only her plantation for a winter resort, when they liked
(but which, by the way, they never occupied after they came to New
York; for the glitter of fashionable life so inthralled Mrs. Brooks,
that she spent no winter farther south than Washington). Year after
year she persisted, and Mr. Brooks eventually arranged his business and
removed to New York, easily managing to get an interest in a prosperous
mercantile house as silent partner.
In this he embarked a large share of his money; and finding that he
needed more active life, he put most of the rest of his property into a
manufacturing concern, of some department of which he took charge. The
latter prospered moderately; but the "moral delinquencies," as they
were modestly called, of one of his mercantile partners, who controlled
the use of the funds, brought the house to ruin, and Mr. Brooks saved
only some fifteen per cent. of his investment out of the wreck. Putting
his manufacturing business upon a good footing, he thought to be
content with that; but he must have more money. The associations he and
his family had made in New York must be sustained, and it required more
money than his manufacturing business brought him to keep up the style
he desired.
He was dejected for a while; but having had more or less experience in
stocks and in Wall Street, through his brokers, however, in other
times, he turned his attention to the study of matters in that street,
and came to the conclusion that he as well as another was entitled to
succeed there,--and in the end he was not mistaken. Taking the funds
saved from the mercantile ruin, though they were small, he went into
Wall Street and formed a partnership with an experienced broker, who
saw that he could make the large and influential acquaintanceship of
Mr. Brooks available. The latter's rise was steady, and somewhat rapid.
Everything he touched turned to gold, and he became one of the most
fortunate of brokers and speculators. Eventually the establishment of
the Bank of ----, the most active of the projectors of which Mr. Brooks
had been, called him to the post of bank president, in which post he
displayed rare abilities. But his financial cares so multiplied--he was
called to engage in so many operations all over the land, in
fact,--that he became a slave to his own fortune, and never left the
city, save to go where business called him,--sometimes West, but more
frequently South. His family went to Saratoga, or the White Sulphur
Springs of Virginia, or where else they pleased, to pass a few weeks of
the summers, but he could never "find time." So it was that he had not
visited his native hills for so many years, and had almost forgotten
the playmates of his boyhood, and with them his dear old relative and
friend, Mr. Savage.
It can easily be conjectured that when he found himself again with the
most intimate friend of his childhood, in the very house (though it had
been much repaired and changed since he had seen it) where he had spent
so many days, and even weeks, in each of several years of his early
life, the old affections came back to him, with emotions intensified by
the very fact that so much that was dear had so long been buried from
his sight, and memory almost, in the mad whirl of business in which he
had won his successes. In short, the latter's brilliance only served to
make more bright and vivid the sweetness and riches of the old
memories; and to attempt to draw the picture hero which Mr. Brooks made
for me when I first formed his acquaintance, of his sadness and his
happiness at that meeting with Mr. Savage, would be preposterous for
me, for he painted it in words which then brought tears to my eyes.
He spent a few days with Mr. Savage, and they rode about over the
familiar hills; on cloudy days tried the trout brooks, but without
their early success; wandered off to old farm-houses where they used to
"attend parties," and to and from which they used to escort the girls;
and, in fact, lived over their young days together quite gleefully. But
it was not alone for old memories' sake that Mr. Brooks lingered there.
He had made an observation the minute he arrived at Mr. Savage's which
constantly impressed him. Mr. Brooks had only a family of daughters
living. He had lost two sons,--one in the South and one in New
York,--the latter of whom having grown to nineteen years of age he had
set his heart upon, had educated him at Columbia College, and was about
to send him to Germany to add to his education, intending him for the
bar, or for financial business, as the son might decide on his return,
when the young man, one day, was run over by a horse, which, breaking
away from his carriage, dashed across the sidewalk unexpectedly to
everybody near, and injuring several persons slightly or severely, so
crushed and trampled upon young George, the son, that after months of
intense suffering, from internal wounds especially, he died.
[Illustration: FEARFUL DREAM OF OLD MR. BROOKS.]
Mr. Brooks had never been fully his old self after the death of his
son; and though some years had passed since the mournful accident, Mrs.
Brooks was frequently awaked at night by her husband's talking in his
dreams about, and often as if with, George. So he, too, frequently fell
asleep in his chair after a weary day's work, and muttered in his sleep
about George; and on one occasion, after being awakened from what was
to Mrs. Brooks evidently a fearful dream, in which she stood over him
and witnessed his agony for a moment before she aroused him, he, in
response to her importunity, related the dream, the substance of which
was, that while, when he first fell into a drowse he was enjoying
visions of rural life and domestic felicity, in the midst of which
George, sitting in an easy-chair, and caressed by a young maiden, or
perhaps his youthful wife, was revealed to him.
So blissful were these visions (which of course to him were realities),
that he had just resolved to abandon the sickening struggle of
business, go to the country and lead a quiet life, when all at once the
scene changed! and down through the very centre of the beautiful
panorama of bliss, came, half-wrapped in clouds, a hideous-faced, naked
demon, bearing a great bag of gold in each hand, one marked "100,000,"
the other "1,000,000," as if to tempt him to longer continue in the
money-getting service of Satan, and to peril his soul the more! and
what added to the horror of all was, that just then George was
represented as leaving his seat of bliss, seizing his hat, and rushing
down into the lower plane, grasping at imaginary bags of gold which
just eluded his clutch, his face covered with the greed of gain; and it
gave him the greatest pangs to see his darling boy fall from so high an
estate to one so low. It was while in the agony of these pangs in which
he wildly threw up his arms, as if struggling to get up and go forth to
save George, that Mrs. Brooks awakened him.
It was, as it will be seen, a terrible blow to Mr. Brooks, the death of
that son, who, he confidently hoped, would take and fill, or more than
fill, his place in business. He doted upon him more, perhaps, than he
otherwise would have done had he not been the only son in a family of
half a dozen children. The daughters would need his aid and counsel,
and of this the father thought much. It was an unspeakable and
irremediable loss to Mr. Brooks. He had frequently thought to adopt
some young man, or dreamed that some of his daughters might marry some
man after his own heart; but looking around, he never found a young man
for adoption who suited him.
He had relinquished the hope that he might yet encounter somebody to
his tastes when he came to Mr. Savage's home; and when the fresh, fair,
well-formed, keen, but gentle-eyed, and firm of lip, Leonard, with his
fine, bared brow, ran out with his father and family to greet the
just-arrived relations, who sent word of their coming the day before,
Mr. Brooks's eyes gathered new lustre to themselves as he looked upon
him, and discovered the strong resemblance of Leonard to his favorite
child George; and the impression then made upon his mind was deepened
as Mrs. Brooks, taking her husband aside an hour after their arrival,
spoke to him in low words, and with tears in her eyes:--
"Have you not noticed how like our dear George is Leonard Savage? I
noticed it the instant I met him, and I can't keep my eyes off from
him; and he acts just as George used to, too," she added.
Mr. Brooks told her that he had remarked the resemblance; "but," said
he, "please do not tell him, or the family, or our girls of it, for I
have already resolved to study the young man while I am here, and I
shall not pay him too much attention. I wish to see him as he usually
is. I wish you would watch him carefully, too, without letting him know
it."
Mrs. Brooks, of course, consented to her husband's sensible wishes (and
wives should never consent to unsensible ones), and they watched
Leonard with great care, only to become more and more attracted to him
day by day. Sometimes Mr. Brooks and he took the old horse and carriage
and rode away long distances together. During these journeys Mr. Brooks
was sounding the mind and character of Leonard, talking to him of the
world and the men in it; of what he had seen and learned in Europe; of
the modes of doing business in New York; of his old acquaintances, some
of whom had achieved honors and fortune, and how they had lived; others
of whom had made shipwreck of themselves, earlier or later in life, and
so on, only to find that Leonard had a wondrously appreciative and
grasping mind, and seemed to be perfectly well-grounded morally. The
personal beauty, too, of Leonard, and his excellent colloquial powers,
charmed Mr. Brooks.
He found himself, after a few days, wholly in love with Leonard, and as
his wife's judgment of the young man corresponded with his own, he felt
increased confidence in Leonard; for Mr. Brooks was one of those men
who, fortunate in the possession of noble and sensible wives, know how
to appreciate them. Mr. Brooks always told his wife his important
business, and never took any great step, when there was time enough to
do so, without consulting her. But men who do business in Wall Street
are sometimes called on to act on the instant, in matters which involve
hundreds of thousands of dollars.
The Brooks family remained several days at Mr. Savage's, and not only
convinced themselves of Leonard's perfect goodness and great
capacities, but of the worthiness of the whole of Mr. Savage's family;
and it can readily be conjectured that, at this early time even, Mr.
and Mrs. Brooks, who had a daughter of the same age as Leonard, and
other daughters a little younger, might have looked forward to an
alliance for one of them with a young man so good and of so much
promise in the world. The children, too, of Mr. Brooks became fond of
"cousin Leonard," as, in their caprices, they called him, and attached
to the whole family, especially to old Mr. Savage, their father's
time-old friend, who was one of those straightforward, severely honest,
intelligent, but at the same time fun-loving, jocular persons, whose
magnetism is contagious, and makes everybody around them "feel better."
A day or two before his departure from Mr. Savage's for the mountains,
Mr. Brooks took a long ride with Leonard, in which he talked much with
him about life, its cares, toils, and struggles, its successes and
disappointments; the value of the education of the schools, and that of
the arena of business, etc., and finally told him how he had been
considering him, and what projects he had been forming in his mind for
him business-wise. Mr. Brooks shed many tears as he told Leonard of his
resemblance to his own dear George, and Leonard, too, was greatly
affected, and could hardly utter a word.
Leonard was unwilling to give up his proposed collegiate course; but
Mr. Brooks assured him that he was already superior in scholarship to
the great majority of the country's most successful business men, and
pointed out to him how many brilliant young men of real merit there are
in the legal profession (to which Leonard inclined), as well as in the
medical and clerical, who can make but poor shift in the world; who do
not succeed; and he pointed out to him the advantage of stepping at
once into an established business, where the course of his life would
be free from the heart-racking trials and tortures through which these
men are compelled to pass.
Mr. Brooks told Leonard that he would place him in business, where an
honest course would be sure to win him great fortune in the end; that
he had profound confidence, from what he had seen of him, in his moral
nature, and that he would, in short, take him at once into business
with him, give him a small interest and a salary besides, till he
arrived at age, and then, if all things proved, as he believed they
would, would give him a large interest in his business. "Besides," he
said, "meanwhile my house shall be your home, and as much yours as if
you were really my boy."
Leonard was overwhelmed with Mr. Brooks's kind offers, and expressed
his fears that he had not the capacity to fill the place Mr. Brooks
wished him to occupy. But Mr. Brooks would not hear to this at all; and
finally Leonard said he could take no such important step without
consulting his father and mother, which only seemed to increase Mr.
Brooks's respect for him; and it was arranged that that night Mr. and
Mrs. B. and Mr. and Mrs. S. and Leonard should have a conference,
either sending the "girls" and "children" off to bed early, or managing
to take a walk by themselves. Night came, and it was very beautiful.
Mr. Brooks proposed that Mr. S. and wife, and himself and wife, should
take an evening stroll over to an old farm-house, where lived some
goodly neighbors, and make them a parting call, and told Leonard to
"come over" at such a time.
On their way home they stopped under some grand old trees, where there
were rude seats for the accommodation of travellers, and there, in the
moonlight, talked over the matter. Mr. Savage was surprised at Mr.
Brooks's generous offers. He hardly knew what to do. He had hoped that
Leonard would go to college, and finally determine to enter the
ministry. This was his highest ambition for him. His own brother
Leonard, after whom the young man was named, was a minister of much
promise, but who became ill early in his ministry, and died after a
long period of sickness and infirmity, at the age of twenty-nine.
Mr. Savage had looked to his son fondly to "do his unaccomplished
work," as he expressed it (his brother's), for Mr. Savage was of that
class of men who feel that their families--their "name"--must do about
so much "work for the Lord in His vineyard," at any rate, and he was
loath to have Leonard relinquish collegiate education. He said he was
not rich, but could provide comfortably enough for Leonard; and
besides, he had a great dread to have Leonard go so far from home,
especially to New York, so young. He had never been in New York, but he
had often visited Boston, and felt that a city was not the place for
young men. But Mr. Brooks told him that New York contained the best, as
well as the worst people in the world; that idleness was the bane of
young men, either in town or city, and referred him to many young men
whom they knew in their boyhood, and of whom Mr. Savage had told him on
that visit, that they had made wreck of themselves in the country, some
having gone down to drunkards' graves, etc.; that Leonard would, at
once, have all he could do, and perhaps more; that he would directly
enter upon a stern, and not a little laborious life, but that his great
success would be sure; that he would watch over Leonard with a father's
care, etc.
Mrs. Savage cried, and Mr. S. persisted in his objections. Finally, Mr.
Brooks told him that if he would give his consent, he would watch
Leonard carefully, and that if he discovered the least thing to excite
his suspicions that Leonard was in any way unfitted for the course of
life in which he wished to place him, he would send him back to his
father, and that, in the meanwhile, Leonard would have earned some
money for himself, and that then he would not be too old to go to
college; "for," said he, "a year's trial will decide all."
This was a new suggestion to Leonard, and he caught at it, and added
his importunities to Mr. Brooks's; for he saw the brilliant prospect
before him if he proved himself capable, and it was Mr. Brooks's own
proposal that he go on trial. So, after much further conversation, Mr.
and Mrs. Savage consented, and the parties returned to the house.
Mr. Brooks was so delighted that he could hardly contain himself, and
insisted that Leonard should go with him and his family next day to the
mountains. To this Leonard demurred, for he knew that fashionable
people resorted there, and he had not, he said, a proper suit of
clothes. He was having some made preparatory to going to college, but
they were not done. Mr. Brooks gently laughed at this; told him he was
well enough dressed now; that it was not his clothes, but him, that he
wanted with him.
But it was finally arranged that Leonard should visit Boston, and
provide himself with a ready-made suit, and follow the family in two or
three days. Mr. Brooks, knowing a certain clothing-house in Boston,
told Leonard to go there, and nowhere else; and after Leonard had
selected his suit, judge of his surprise, when the clerk, asking his
name, in order to make out the bill, presented it to Leonard,
subscribed, "Payment received in full," as Leonard was drawing his
wallet to pay for the goods.
"But what does this mean?" said Leonard, as, taking the bill, he handed
the clerk the money, which was refused.
"I am not able to tell you more than that I had orders to hand you the
bill receipted, and to refuse any money you might offer," said the
clerk, as he started to go to do something needing then to be done.
"But stop, sir," said Leonard; "I cannot receive this compliment from
your house. I must know what it means."
At this point one of the proprietors, seeing that Leonard was
confounded, stepped up, motioned the clerk away to his duties, and
said,--
"Allow me to ask what is the trouble?"
"No 'trouble' indeed," said Leonard, "but this: I've bought a suit of
clothes, for which I wish to pay, and the clerk won't let me, and has
given me the receipted bill."
The proprietor reached out his hand for it, looked at it for an
instant, and said,--
"Is this your name?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then the bill seems to be correctly made out."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I am one of the proprietors of this house,--would you prefer
_me_ to receipt the bill, rather than that it be done in our name by a
clerk--is that it?"
Of course Leonard was astonished at the query.
"Why, no, sir," said he; "I suppose this is as correct as it can be, as
far as the signature is concerned, but I am astonished that you won't
take my money."
"Well, we do refuse to, and shall be greatly obliged to you if you will
take the suit along with you. You will have no trouble in the future
about it, and I am not at liberty to explain the matter to you. All I
can say is, it is all right; we are satisfied, and should be glad of
your custom when you wish anything in our line."
Leonard left the store confused, unable to conjecture what it meant,
for he had no suspicion of the fact, afterwards disclosed to him, a
year from then, that Mr. Brooks had written a private letter to the
house, enclosing a draft on a New York bank, telling the house to let
such a young man, whom he accurately described, and who would be there
in a day or two, have the goods, and they could settle the difference
between amount of draft and cost of goods thereafter. Of course he
enjoined entire secrecy; hence it was that the proprietor was "not at
liberty to explain."
Mr. Brooks intended this as a pleasant surprise upon Leonard, but it
didn't prove so. He was more or less harassed by it till he came to
know the facts. He was one of those independent, self-reliant souls,
who rather go without this or that than receive it from patronizing
hands; and as he did not even suspect this as Mr. Brooks's work, and as
old Mr. Savage, when Leonard came to tell him of the occurrence, was
equally unsuspecting, Leonard was a little vexed.
Mr. Brooks had been so long away they did not conceive that he had
acquaintances in Boston; and moreover they knew that he had not been
near the post office of the village while he was there, or had they
suspected him they would have thought of that, and been puzzled. But
Mr. Brooks had been wary, and without going to the post office himself,
sent his daughter out to walk, and deposit the letter, and told her to
say nothing about it, and to show its superscription to no one.
Leonard followed the family in his new but plain suit, for he had not
been extravagant. His fine form needed no adornment, and the visitors
at the mountains that season hardly knew which to admire the most, his
frank, handsome face, his Apollo-like form, or his gentle, kindly
manners. Of course Mr. Brooks was very proud of him, and was never so
happy as when talking to the people he met of the prize he had found
"up among the granite hills." He spoke of Leonard as his "clerk," and
was, in short, a particle silly in the expression of his pride over
Leonard; and Mrs. Brooks was not far behind him. So that the gossiping
portion of the visitors to the mountains, when they met, began to
whisper it about that it was "easy enough to be seen" that Mr. Brooks
was arranging an alliance for his daughter, and they were very sure it
was the next to the oldest; and before the Brookses left the mountains,
these gossipers were certain of it; and, as they observed the quiet,
modest, and reserved appearance of the beautiful Isabella, they
construed her silence into her non-concurrence with the supposed plan,
and Mrs. Brooks overheard some of them bewailing the condition of her
daughter, declaring it was "too bad to compel a girl to marry against
her will;" that although Leonard was so beautiful, and all that, yet it
was not right to compel the girl to marry him, and the Brookses "ought
to be ashamed of it." Little did they know what at the same time was
going on in Isabella's heart, and as little foresaw what the future,
not years distant, was to develop in the happiness and joy of the
Brooks and Savage families. Ah, and much less could they then have
conjectured of the terrible reverses--the inexpressible sufferings,
which were to come to some, indeed all, of those then happy households.
The season over, Mr. Brooks and family returned to New York, making but
a day or two's call at Mr. Savage's, where it was arranged that Leonard
should follow them in a month, and then set out for Boston, where Mr.
Brooks called on the clothing-house, and received the balance due on
his draft.
"That young man," said the proprietor, who had had the conversation
with Leonard, "is a splendid fellow to look upon, and I liked his
manners. I've thought ever since he was here I would like to get his
services in our store--if I could. Do you think he could be induced to
come to Boston? We'd do well by him--give him a fair trial--he would
have nothing to complain of."
"Then you like him? What struck you most in his appearance?"
"Well, he's intelligent and handsome, that everybody can see; but what
I liked most, was his honest, open face. I think he's perfectly
reliable--a thing I can say of but few of the clerks our house ever
had."
Mr. Brooks was delighted with this estimation of Leonard by a shrewd,
keen-sighted business man, and replied,--
"You've judged the young man rightly, I think; but you cannot secure
his services. A business is already provided for him. Were it not for
that, I might try to get him into your employ."
Soon after Mr. Brooks left the store; and, of course, the first thing
he told Mrs. Brooks on entering the Revere House, where they were
stopping, was what the merchant had said about Leonard, and the
daughters all heard it too.
But I must cut this part of the story short, for I find my personal
regard for Leonard is leading me to dilate upon those points which are
not so exactly connected with the detective's business; and I have gone
over the substance of Mr. Brooks's narrative to me of the past, in such
detail, in order to give the reader some adequate notion of the
intensity of the grief which came upon the Brooks family, and to show
how the extremest innocence and the most lofty honor may sometimes
suffer under false charges,--the designs of the base and vile for their
own mean ends; or, as in this case, through the conspiracy of
circumstances, the solution of which necessarily involves the innocent
sometimes.
Leonard went to New York in due time, and was taken into Mr. B.'s
family as a member, and duly installed in Mr. B.'s business, first as
clerk, Mr. Brooks advancing him little by little, as he saw fit.
A year rolled round, and Leonard visited his country home, and Mr.
Brooks had no occasion to "release" him in that he loved him; and all
the family loved him; and there was one of them who more than loved
him, Isabella; but so gentle and undemonstrative had she been, that
Leonard did not know it; and he regarded all the girls as his sisters,
and was kind, and gentle, and cheerful to them all alike. Still,
sometimes he thought he "liked" (for he never thought of "love" towards
any of them, save in the kindly, friendly sense), Isabella, in
particular, the best.
When he returned there was rejoicing in the Brooks' house, and all went
on smoothly. These things proceeded till Leonard became of age, and Mr.
Brooks at once took him into full partnership, giving him outright an
interest sufficient to make him wealthy. Leonard had not forgotten his
love of books, and occupied most of his leisure hours at his happy
home, reading to the family. Thus he was storing his mind, and fitting
himself for greater usefulness.
So fashionable a family as the Brookses, had necessarily been called
into society much, and had given many parties themselves, but they
gradually lost their interest in those things after Leonard came; and
as Mr. Brooks saw the advantage of which his reading and studential
habits would be to his daughters, he encouraged their more quiet life.
In short, Leonard became indispensable to that household, and lived
there as a brother and a son, to whom they all had come to look up,
till his twenty-fourth year, when, going a little into society, and
meeting various ladies, whom he admired, he began to conceive the
thought of marriage; but he found none who, in comparison with the
young ladies at home, he thought equal to them, especially to one of
them, the gentle Isabella, who was also a very good scholar, and had
studied a great deal since Leonard became a member of the family. He
dwelt upon the matter very much. Isabella was almost a sister, indeed.
He felt a delicacy about revealing his affections; but at last he did,
and the tears of Isabella revealed her only too great joy.
They made their story known to Mr. and Mrs. Brooks, who, in their
gladness, would have had them marry the very next day. Mr. Brooks said
that any delay under the circumstances was absurd; that he did not care
for formalities, and wanted to make no show. But Mrs. Brooks's pride
took another direction. She wanted time to make a great wedding, and
Mr. Brooks yielded. The wedding came, and passed all happily, and
Leonard Savage and Isabella Brooks were united for a happy life, to be
checkered, however, by great misery to them both. They remained with
Mr. Brooks's family for a year, when they moved into a new house which
Mr. Brooks had erected meanwhile, and given to Isabella, and time went
on; children were born to them, and happy grandparents lived over their
lives again in the smiles of their loving grandchildren.
Meanwhile Mr. Brooks changed his business somewhat, and founding a
bank, he became president of it, and along with him went Leonard, as
chief clerk, his property, now sufficient for his support in style,
being invested in various paying stocks. He went more as a companion
for old Mr. Brooks, than to fill a position for the sake of its salary;
and as Mr. Brooks had a dear friend, who, in his old age had become
ruined in Wall Street, it was arranged that he should be cashier so
long as he might desire, or might live, and that Mr. Savage should
succeed him, if he so desired. But Mr. Savage was Mr. Brooks's
confidential clerk in all respects, and was intrusted with everything.
All things went on happily and smoothly for a year and a half, till a
certain fatal day arrived. The day before, Mr. Savage, who, in all the
long time he had been with Mr. Brooks, never drew out at any time from
the concern but a portion of his dues, told Mr. Brooks that he had
become embarrassed a little through the decline of a certain stock,
which was sure, however, to come up again, and that he wanted a
thousand dollars for current expenses; and unwilling to sell any stock
he held, and not willing to ask anybody else to loan him, was obliged
to ask of him a favor. Mr. Brooks smiled at the matter, gave him the
money at once, and in a manner of half reproof, and half joke, said,
"Leonard, what made you think I'd lend you money? I won't, never. Take
that as a birthday present _from_ me, to reverse the order of things,
for to-morrow is my birthday." Leonard took the money, considering it a
loan, which he should make up in a week.
The next day was a fatal one to the happiness of that house, and the
one to which all I have written here has been pointing. It was noon.
Mr. Brooks was out of town, the cashier had gone to his dinner, and so
the clerks, and all but an old negro messenger, who had been with the
house since its establishment, and he was dozing away in his accustomed
seat, when a man entered the bank with a draft for two thousand
dollars, and something over (I forget the exact sum); was in haste, or
such was Mr. Savage's story; got it cashed by Mr. Savage, who acted as
teller in the teller's absence, and cashier too, and made an entry in
the books, and slipped the draft, as he declared, into the proper
drawer, preparatory to its being duly filed, according to the custom of
the bank. That night the entry was found in the books, but no draft to
correspond was found. Mr. Savage was confounded; the old cashier said
an unkind word to him about carelessness, and the bank closed without
the matter being settled.
Next day the cashier brought the thing to Mr. Brooks's notice before
Mr. Savage came in; and the old cashier presumed, on his intimacy with
Mr. Brooks, to say that the affair "looked bad." The illness of one of
Mr. Savage's children delayed him an hour or two beyond the usual time
of arriving at the bank, and this added to Mr. Brooks's uneasiness, not
knowing the cause. Moreover, there flashed into his mind, what had been
forgotten for nearly thirty years, the mournful history of the latter
life of a man in the South, whom he once knew, and who, in the midst of
happiest surroundings, and after having enjoyed everybody's confidence
for a period of over forty years, proved at last a villain.
Mr. Brooks deemed this man's name coming back, as it did,--he knew not
how,--to memory, as a sort of providential presentation of light upon
the matter in question; and, by the deep degree of his affection for
his son-in-law, his suspicions became intense, as he afterwards
explained it. By the time Leonard Savage got to the bank, Mr. Brooks
was in the mood to believe almost anything of him. He remembered, too,
that he was embarrassed the day before, and he had given him a thousand
dollars. How did he know but he wanted more thousands? What had he done
with his money?
When Mr. Savage arrived, Mr. Brooks, with a frown on his face, invited
him into the directors' room, shut the door, and asked him to explain
about that draft. Mr. Savage told him the whole simple story, quietly;
expressed his great regret at his stupidity; said he knew he must
have--in fact, he knew as well as he knew anything--put the draft in
such a place; that it was drawn by such a bank in the country (a
familiar one, often doing business with them); was all right, etc., and
that he and the clerks had hunted high and low, and it was not to be
found the day before. Mr. Savage was secretly annoyed at Mr. Brooks's
pertinacity in the matter, and he finally said,--
"Father Brooks, of course I propose that the bank shall not lose the
money. The other bank will, of course, recognize the fact of having
given the draft; and now, as the draft is paid it is all the same to us
if it is lost."
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Brooks; "that's all well enough. I wonder why I've
not thought to send word to the other bank, and find if they have
issued such a draft on us." This very suggestion piqued Mr. Savage's
pride awfully, but he suffered the affront silently; and as the
conversation closed, Mr. Savage said, "And, father, even if it were a
forged draft, I should tell you to have it charged to me, against my
stock and dividends. The bank shall not lose for my laches."
This suggestion about a forged draft struck Mr. Brooks unpleasantly.
"What if it should prove that the bank has made no such draft on us
that day?" asked Mr. B. of himself, as he and Mr. Savage parted; and he
immediately despatched a messenger to the country to find out the
facts, who, returning, said the bank had issued no such draft. Mr.
Brooks's suspicions became strong that Mr. Savage, for some inscrutable
reason, had done wrong. He did not care for the money, but his
confidence was shaken in him. He would pay the sum withdrawn, and get
rid of Mr. Savage as easily as he could. This was his purpose; but he
bethought him, that perhaps somebody could unravel the mystery;
_perhaps_--but he did not believe it--somebody had deceived Mr. Savage
with a forged check; but, ah! where had that gone. "Perhaps," Mr.
Savage had thought--well, he could not solve it for himself, knew not
what to think; and after pondering over it, came to our office (for I
then had a partner). He revealed his case to me,--told me the whole
history which I have related, and far more, and said he had grown ten
years older within the past two weeks. He had said nothing yet to his
wife about it, and thought he never should.
I told him it looked to me that Mr. Savage was an honest man, and had
been imposed upon with a forged check; that possibly, by some
connivance with the old negro messenger, the forger had repossessed
himself of that check; but that that was the most unlikely thing in the
world. I tried to conceive various ways to account for it, even to
supposing that Mr. S. was mistaken as to having put the draft in the
drawer, but had tucked it, unthinkingly, into his vest pocket, and had
lost it. But to all I could suggest, he had a ready reply; and I told
him that I thought I'd better examine the premises, the drawers, and so
forth; and we arranged a private examination,--he and I being alone in
the bank,--which was made.
I saw that if the drawers were full,--and it appeared that on that
fatal day much business had been done, and the drawer was probably
full,--a paper might get out over the back end and fall on the floor,
and so get lost; but this suggestion was answered to my
satisfaction,--the greatest search had been made for the paper on the
afternoon of the day it was said to have been presented, etc., and my
theory was thus precluded. After a few conferences, I finally yielded
to Mr. Brooks's opinion, that Mr. Savage was guilty of having taken the
money, and trumped up the silly story for his defence; and yet it was
all so absurd an act in one situated as was he.
A while after, Mr. Brooks had a serious talk with Mr. Savage, who was
allowed to pay the bank the loss, and matters were so arranged that the
clerks thought that the check had indeed been found, though they did
not see it; but Mr. Brooks's confidence in and respect for Mr. Savage
was gone, and the poor old man's grief was terrible. "Not one honest
man in the world," he used to mutter; "even if you educate him
yourself, and nurture him in your own bosom, and give to his keeping
your dearest child, and your wealth and all, he'll deceive you."
Mr. Brooks caused Mr. Savage to give up his place; and told him that he
wanted his daughter and their children to visit him as before, but
hoped he should never see _him_ at his house, and if he did visit
there, he trusted he would take care not to meet him. And Mr. Savage,
whose feelings, under the circumstances, can perhaps be better
conceived than described, seeing the old man's wretchedness, withdrew
from his sight quietly, simply saying, "It is awful--I am
innocent--perhaps something will convince you, some day, that I am."
"No, no," said old Mr. Brooks; "I have no such hope; there is no room
for hope; you have deceived me in your character, and I am fast
breaking down."
Mr. Savage went to his home an almost broken-down man himself. For a
long time he kept all from his wife; finally, he told her; and she,
against his advice, went to implore her father, now inexorable in his
opinion. He cried over his daughter, but would not yield his opinion.
Mr. Savage became quite low in health, and it was finally thought best,
by his physician, that he should take a sea voyage,--go to Europe to
spend a year or two; which he did, leaving his wife and children at
home. He made his will, and arranged everything as if he might never
return. The physicians could not determine exactly what was his malady,
but thought change of conditions and travel would do him good. They did
not know that it was wounded affection--affection for his dear old
father-in-law, whom he really loved and adored--that was secretly
undermining his health; for he could not tell them his story.
Two years had passed since that unhappy day, of the presentation of the
draft, when there came a letter to Mr. Brooks, purporting to be from a
Catholic clergyman, who gave his name, saying that a dying penitent had
confessed a presentation of a forged draft on his bank for two thousand
dollars at about such a time--day of the month he could not
recollect,--and that he was ready to make restoration, to the extent of
his ability, with funds left in his hands for the purpose. He could
restore twelve hundred dollars, and asked Mr. B. if such a check had
been drawn on his bank at such a time, as the penitent was not in the
most vivid state of memory at the time of confession, and talked of two
or three banks at the same time.
Here is light! thought Mr. Brooks; and he lost no time in seeking out
the priest, and getting from him all he could disclose; and when the
priest,--who would not give him the man's name, on account of certain
relatives of the forger's, who were respectable people,--Mr. Brooks
remembered that Mr. Savage's meagre description of the man, who he
alleged presented the check, was like the priest's, Mr. Brooks began to
suffer remorse. "Yet, where is the check?" he constantly asked himself;
and with this he settled his conscience as frequently as it was
disturbed; and saying nothing to his wife about this,--to whom not till
months after the fatal day he had told his story,--thought over the
matter by himself. He did not receive the money from the priest, but
caused him to put it in the bank, told him to act as its trustee, and
that by and by he could come to some conclusion. He told the priest
that there was alleged to have been a draft for two thousand dollars
drawn at that time; and he learned from the priest that the man who
confessed to drawing a forged order was skilful with his pen, and
capable, probably, of forging successfully. And with this all, Mr.
Brooks was constantly in trouble of mind.
Finally, it had been resolved by the bank to get a heavy safe, in
addition to the one in the vault, for its increasing business; and when
the position it was to occupy was selected, it was seen that the old
desk must be removed. In placing the safe in its position, the old
floor broke down on the part nearest the wall,--for the banking rooms
were in an old building,--and it became necessary to repair the floor.
The safe was rolled out in the middle of the room, and the floor, or a
portion of it, taken up. It was found that for nearly nine inches from
the side of the room the floorboards had nothing to rest on, and
consequently broke down with the weight of the safe. They were not
thick and stout enough, and the reckless joiners, in laying the floor,
had saved themselves labor in slighting their work. But the floor had
served its purpose well enough till that day. On tearing off the broken
ends of the floor, several papers were found between them and the
ceiling of the room below,--the basement offices,--and small bits of
sealing-wax, short strings, a few cents, and such things.
The bank men and clerks looked at the papers, and one of them, taking
up a paper of peculiar color, and folded, said, "What's this?" and
carelessly opened it. "Why, this is a draft on our bank by the Bank of
----; cashed, too, I reckon; how came it here?"
Fortunately Mr. Brooks was looking on the scene. The old cashier was
sick at home, the person in his place occupied, and the clerk who found
the paper a new comer. "Let me see that," said Mr. Brooks, and reached
his trembling hand for it, took it, and turned away; looked at it; put
it in his pocket, and went into the directors' room; cried till he was
weak; and finally, coming out, said he was sick, and must go home; had
a carriage ordered, and was soon at home, revealing to his wife what,
together with the confession of the dying penitent, he considered the
full proof of Mr. Savage's innocence.
The color of the draft, which had proven a little dark in the mean
while, however, was like that before and then still used by the country
bank in its check blanks, and was all right. It flashed upon him that
the forger had gotten possession of one of these, done his work,
deceived Mr. Savage,--and all was clear but as to _how_ the check got
there,--a mystery in some part never to be solved. But next day Mr.
Brooks observed, what had never occurred to him before as remarkable,
yet which he remembered to have carelessly noted every day of his life,
that the base-board above the floor had shrunken away from the latter
for the space of nearly a quarter of an inch; and he found that the
broken ends of the floor boards revealed that they but barely reached
under the base board, so short were they. The draft, found folded, had
somehow slipped out of the drawer, and got on to the floor; and
perhaps, in somebody's haste that fatal day, had chanced to be hit with
the toe of a boot severely enough to be cast under the base board, into
the receptacle where it was found.
Mr. Brooks's remorse was great. He would have hurried to Europe, to see
his son-in-law, and bring him back, if he could possibly have then left
New York, but he could not; and he did the next good thing. He would
not trust to the slow process of the mail,--for where his son-in-law
was at the time his daughter, who had been made acquainted with the
facts, could not tell. He was last heard from at Rome, but was about to
depart for some other place--Vienna, I believe. So Mr. Brooks wrote the
most tender letter, imploring forgiveness, and together with one from
Mr. Savage's wife, sealed it up very securely, selected a messenger,
who was no other than the old cashier's, his friend's, son, and fitting
him out, bade him make haste to find Mr. Savage, give him the letters,
and bring him home.
The messenger left for Europe by the next steamer from Boston, and
going directly to Rome, traced out Mr. Savage from there, and found him
at last in Athens, Greece, an enfeebled, prematurely old man. He had
suddenly changed his purpose to go to Austria, and set out with a party
from Rome to Greece.
Mr. Savage was so overcome with joy that he was thrown into a fit of
sickness, which lasted for some three weeks; but he recovered to his
old status of late, and before he arrived in New York--his anxiety
having gone, and his happiness at the prospect of soon being restored
to the arms of the old man, whom he so loved, with all suspicions
removed from his character, and his innocence proclaimed--he had grown
to be quite like his old self in appearance, though yet unusually thin.
I will not attempt to describe the meeting between him, his father and
mother-in-law, and his wife, for these were all at his own house, in a
private room, when he arrived from the steamer,--Mr. Brooks feeling
that he could not meet him there, as he wished to in his heart, for he
would be overcome, had written him a note by the coachman, telling him
where he would find him. Mr. Brooks's recital of that scene, which he
told me more than once, was the most touching story I ever listened to;
would that I had the power of pen to reproduce it; but I have not, and
I will not depreciate it by the attempt.
During the messenger's absence Mr. Brooks had sought me, told me the
story of the confession and the finding of the note, and would have
scolded me a little I felt, because I did not think of the shrunken
base board,--which I now think I noticed,--if he too had not overlooked
that in the examination, although he had in fact noticed it nearly
every day that the rooms had been occupied by his bank.
The still unravelled mystery of how the check got out of the drawer and
under the base board, sometimes puzzles me; but it is no stranger,
after all, than many things I have known. There can be no doubt of Mr.
Savage's innocence in the matter. The twelve hundred dollars, with some
interest thereon, was finally paid over by the priest; but Mr. Brooks
took care that Father ---- received, in a way mysterious to him, and
for his own use, a much larger sum; so grateful was he for the
restoration to his home of his innocent son-in-law, whom he had so
deeply, yet naturally enough under the circumstances, wronged.
This case, I hardly need add, served to increase my caution in the
examination of my future "work," though I thought I was as wary and
careful as a man could well be before.
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