"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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