wife on her marriage, with a gold chain, drove that man pretty near the
boundary of madness. When he first heard of it, he was frantic. He raved
and he cursed, uttering language such as his wife had never heard from
his lips before against some person or persons unknown, and vowing the
direst vengeance against the offender. He declared that if he or she
were his own brother or sister (which obviously could not be, as he had
no brother or sister), he would transport him or hang him or her. And he
also said that the worst feature of the case was the total impossibility
in tracing the thief. He did not like to be beaten in that manner. It
was so deuced aggravating not to know what had become of the things;
that is, who had stolen them. It was such a hard thing to be suspecting
all the servants and their friends. Was he to dismiss all the servants?
If so, how did he know that he should then get rid of the thief? Was he
to banish all his friends from his house? How did he know that it was
some pretended friend that was robbing them? He finished in mutterings,
which, although not capable of being accurately embalmed in printer's
ink, may be safely interpreted as imprecations and direful threats.
In this mode his conversation with his wife one evening rambled; and at
the conclusion of his incoherent ejaculations, he started to his feet as
if he had made a grand discovery. "By G--, it must be somebody in the
house. It must be one of the servants. It must be that girl you have so
fondled and caressed. The ungrateful wretch! If I find it out to be her,
and I must find it out, I will have her arrested, prosecuted,
transported."
His wife was terrified. The idea of prosecuting this poor girl, whose
life in many respects resembled her own,--the chief point of difference
being, in fact, that she had not been able to catch a merchant
husband,--told on Mrs. Green's sympathies. Yet, as she said to her
husband--if he were right--it was horrid ingratitude in that girl to rob
them so--if she had done it.
"But suppose," suggested the wife, "we should be mistaken, how cruel
will be the suspicions we have engendered!"
"Cruel!" exclaimed the husband; "yes, if we are mistaken. But how can we
be mistaken?"
He ran through the circumstances under which several articles of value
had been lost, to show that no friend or acquaintance could have robbed
them.
Burglary was impossible, because of the frequency, the width of time and
occasion, and the comparative smallness, of the plunder.
It must, at all events, be one or other of the servants; and he felt it
to be his duty to investigate the matter thoroughly. He was determined
to do this. It was a duty they owed to themselves, and the other
servants, and all their friends, and to the world, that this thief
should be detected.
Mrs. Green said she could not bring her mind to a prosecution. She said
that, at all events, the most she would do was to turn away either of
the servants who was discovered. The case was certainly very bad, and
the thief deserved all he or she got.
The husband reserved his decision. Perhaps, if the wretch confessed, he
might be disposed to listen to her appeal for mercy. If that girl (for
he persisted it must be her) dared to belie the evidence which must be
got against her, he would have no compunction in hanging her.
With that kind of rashness or folly which men under such circumstances
commit, he turned to his wife, and most unreasonably said to her, "Now,
Helen, my dear, you must find out the thief for me. I know it must be
that girl. Now, find her out."
Among the little trinkets Mrs. Green possessed were a bracelet and a
locket, neither ofwhich had hitherto been missed.
Both of them had been seen by her and her husband within two days before
the present conversation. She missed them, as she afterwards explained,
the day following this conversation. It was very strange that they
should have disappeared just at that time. For her part, she would, if
she could, screen the culprit; but her husband's mandate left her no
discretion. She was to find out the thief. What to do she did not know.
She thought of searching the girl's boxes--or of having them searched by
a policeman. No, she would not do that. She hoped that her husband would
not prosecute. She therefore contented herself by communicating this
further loss to Mr. Green, and explaining to him the reasons which had
stayed her in the extreme means of discovery.
Mr. Green, on his return home, was uneasy and excited. Something had
seemingly crossed him in the City. I believe an advice his house
received that morning told the firm of the bankruptcy of a Hamburg
correspondent. This fact had soured the merchant's temper, and inflamed
his desire for vengeance.
When his wife communicated her suspicions, he at once insisted upon a
search of the girl and of her trunks.
Just at this moment, or before the resolution was carried out, a friend
dropped in to see them. He observed a gloom on the countenance of the
merchant, and began to rally him. The visitor wanted to know whether the
firm of Green and Schnackwether were going to appear in next Tuesday's
_Gazette_, and what the devil was the matter with him. He did not care
to avow his loss in the City, and found an adequate explanation in his
losses at home.
This friend suggested that examining the trunks was perhaps not an
unwise thing; but he also joined in the wife's appeal for mercy, said
that he thought the better plan would be to send the girl off to her
friends, if she had any, and that he would not advise the expense and
trouble of a prosecution.
The merchant, however, fully explained his reasons for not acceding to
the last suggestion, and resolved upon the search.
The three servants were called into the room which Mr. Green denominated
his library, and, in the presence of his friend and his wife, they were
catechised. They all stoutly denied the crime. They all shed tears, and
sobbed, and demanded an investigation. They each resented the suspicion
as cruel and unjust. A boy engaged as page and kitchen-assistant was
defiant, and hinted vaguely that his father and mother would not stand
it; that Mr. Green would hear about it; and that he would not stay in
the house another moment after his boxes were searched--which they might
be at once.
The search began with the boxes of the young male servant, and nothing
was traced in them.
The trunks of the favoured young woman of superior beauty and
accomplishments were next searched. In one of them was found one of
these trinkets and a duplicate of the other.
Mr. Green's rage knew no bounds. In vain the girl protested her
innocence, and declared it was the wicked device of some wretch for her
destruction, or horrid conspiracy by some dreadful enemy to blast her
reputation and dishonour her poor parents, which planted the evidence
against her.
The merchant told her that if she confessed her crime he might forgive
her. She would not admit a crime that, she said, she had not committed.
Mrs. Green remonstrated with the girl about her obstinacy, and advised
her that it would be better to confess an offence which was so fairly
brought home to her, and against the evidence of which it was impossible
for a single moment to contend. The girl threw herself upon her
mistress's sympathy, hoping that _she_ at least could not think her
guilty of the crime attributed to her, although appearances were so much
against her.
At last, under the cross-fire from these accusers, the young woman, who
still refused to confess, dropped into a chair, and, in tones of agony,
implored God to witness that she had never taken a thing that did not
belong to her from any human being.
Mr. Green said this was more than he could stand. Such frightful
hypocrisy, such horrid cant, such blasphemy, was the grossest outrage
upon Heaven he had ever beheld. He told the boy to fetch a policeman,
which service the lad rendered with alacrity. The already-convicted
thief was given into the custody of the officer, taken to the
station-house, and locked up.
The next day at the police-court the evidence of these facts was laid
before the magistrate. The pawnbroker who had taken in the pledge was
not able to identify the prisoner as the female who had pawned the
article; but said that she was about the height, age, and appearance of
the prisoner, although he would not swear to her. It was pledged, he
said, about the hour of twelve in the morning; and Mrs. Green being
called upon to give evidence as to the movements of her servant, with a
view of confirming or breaking down the pawnbroker's suspicion--as the
case might be--was obliged to say that Eliza had been out on an errand
for her mistress between eleven and twelve o'clock on the day referred
to.
The scene in that police-court was one of the most painful things ever
witnessed. The prisoner had no professional assistance. No expert
attorney was there to help or mar her defence. All she did, and all she
said, was a repetition of what she had told her mistress and master and
their friend the night before. She protested that she was as innocent
as an unborn child; that her hands had been trained by parents (whose
memory she revered, and who tenderly loved her) to honest industry; and
that she had no more perpetrated these thefts than the worthy
magistrate. She appealed to her mistress to bear evidence of her general
character. (Mr. Green was not in court.) Her mistress gave her a general
good character, and expressed the grief of herself and her husband at
the discovery in the servant's boxes.
The magistrate put a question or two to the mistress, who seemed to
betray an idea that one of the other servants, or some friend, had been
the thief; or that, at least, the accused had not been, although she did
not say as much in distinct terms.
The tone and manner of the girl had evidently impressed the magistrate
with the belief that she was not in her proper place when in that dock
before him as a criminal. He, however, remarked that the case was one of
very grave suspicion, and that he should remand her for a week, in order
that inquiries might be made, with a view to getting further evidence
upon the case.
The accused had looked forward to her appearance in court as the ordeal
which would establish her innocence. She had never doubted for a moment
that a police magistrate would unravel the mystery, and turn the tide of
false suspicion from her. When she heard the last words fall from the
lips of the presiding justice, and ascertained that she was to be sent
back to something like the loathsome cell she had passed the previous
night in, her spirits gave way. She uttered one heart-rending shriek,
swooned, and was carried down from the dock--senseless.
Mrs. Green narrated circumstantially to Mr. Green what had taken place
in court that afternoon, with a minute exactness, as he sipped his wine
after dinner. As she did so, I believe he half repented the prosecution
of this poor girl, although not a shadow of a doubt rested upon his mind
as to her guilt. He said he thought it was a pity she had not confessed.
As the hours rolled on, and bedtime approached, and he was about
entering the solemnity of night--when, I am inclined to think, men's
better thoughts usually gain the ascendency (that is, unless the thinker
be _intent_ on the perpetration of crime)--he confessed that he did not
know what to do; that he thought the poor girl ought to have an attorney
employed for her; and that he would see his lawyer about it in the
morning.
Next morning after having perused his letters, Mr. Green went to consult
Mr. Scrowle, his private solicitor, about the engagement of some other
attorney for the defence of the girl. Mr. Scrowle, however, put rather a
new complexion on the affair. When he heard the previous good character
of the accused; when he was informed of her solemn protestations of
innocence in the house; when it transpired that the boy had run for a
policeman with such pleasant, not to say indecent, haste; and was told
that the magistrate was impressed by the girl's declaration of
innocence,--Mr. Scrowle suggested to his client, Mr. Green, that his
servant had possibly been the victim of what is called by thieves a
"plant;" that one of the servants (perhaps that boy) might have been the
thief, and might have placed the things in the girl's box for the
purpose of directing suspicion upon her. Mr. Green did not think it
likely that his attorney was correct, because of the difficulty the boy
would have in getting at the room from which the trinkets were taken;
but his lawyer, in reply, said he did not think much of such an
argument, because thieves found opportunities of getting what they
wanted under the most adverse or difficult circumstances. The attorney
then suggested that Mr. Green might possibly get into trouble over the
matter himself.
Many reasons, but particularly the last reason, inclined Mr. Scrowle to
endorse the suggestion of his client, that the girl should be provided
with legal assistance, procured at the cost of the prosecutor; and, when
this point had been settled, Mr. Green told his lawyer he thought that,
after all, the girl had been punished enough, and that he should not
have any objection whatever to letting her off, if it could be arranged,
although she was an ungrateful and an obstinate minx for not confessing.
Mr. Green, who was a somewhat careful, not to say a penurious man, with
great reluctance consented to give his solicitor authority to take what
steps he might deem necessary,--either to pursue or to withdraw from the
prosecution, to defend the girl, to unravel the mystery of the case, and
to arrange it if possible, or thought that step expedient.
Mr. Green's solicitor, at this stage of the business, sent for me. I got
leave to accompany the attorney who was employed for the defence (acting
in the capacity of his clerk) to the house of detention, where we had an
interview with the poor girl. It was one of the most painful scenes I
have ever gone through. She had completely fascinated the matron and the
female warders, who, accustomed to deal uniformly with crime, were slow
to believe in any theory of a prisoner's innocence; yet they believed
this girl perfectly innocent; and relying upon my experience of human
nature, I almost immediately wrote her down as innocent.
It was evident to me, as I told her legal adviser, that a "plant" had
been made upon her.
When he came out of the gaol, like a blackguard as he was, he said to
me, "You must not let the case go off at the next examination, because
both you and I ought to have some costs out of it." With difficulty I
was prevented grasping the fellow by the throat. I did, however,
suppress my loathing and indignation, and played the hypocrite with him
sufficiently to suggest that it would be a good thing if we could get
her off at once. There would be more credit attaching to us, I argued,
than if the magistrate should commit the girl at the next examination
for trial, and some ranting barrister of the Old-Bailey school got her
off, and obtained all the merit. As to costs, I suggested that most
likely some arrangement could be made for a fixed sum, so that he might
earn as much by a successful defence at the next magistrates' meeting as
at the sessions. These arguments had their weight with the attorney,
and he soon coincided with me in thinking that we had better bring the
case to as speedy a termination as we could.
At the suggestion of Mr. Green's own private attorney, I took a note of
introduction to him at his house, with a view of consulting him directly
on the facts of this case.
I was immediately shown into the library, where I found the merchant and
his wife talking; and I was led into the drawing-room by Mr. Green, as I
thought for the purpose of making a demonstration or producing an effect
upon me.
We left Mrs. Green in the library. As Mr. Green, in the drawing-room,
began to relate to me his conviction of the girl's guilt, my eye rested
upon a splendid piano, the lid of which was closed, and, as I afterwards
found, fastened, but jammed in which I thought I saw the corner of a
note.
Here, I said to myself, is a clue. Something has been concealed in that
piano for the purpose, I dare say, of removal to the pawnbroker's, or
assayer's, hereafter. In imagination I dimly perceived, through the
walnut-tree lid of the piano, something wrapped in that envelope of
which a corner was palpably visible.
I did not venture to disclose my thoughts at once to Mr. Green. I did
not know what effect any surprise might have upon him. I did not know
that he might not spoil my game by some indiscretion on his part, if
abruptly let into an explanation, &c. I let him talk, and I talked; but
I thought also none the less.
Thus I mused as we chatted. Could that be a corner of an envelope, or
was it a stray fragment of paper? It might or it might not be a clue. It
might be nothing, after all, but an accidental bit of paper; or perhaps
one of Mrs. Green's domestic accounts, laid there by her
thoughtlessness.
No, it was a clue. It might not be a trinket. It might be a letter. I
was perplexed and tantalised, and even, let me confess it, impatient to
get that piano unlocked.
But Mr. Green might he seek to destroy the clue, in order to make good
his consistency, if it led, as I had no doubt it would, in a contrary
direction to that his suspicions had taken?
Towards the end of the interview we had this conversation: "Can you,
sir, bear any sudden revelation touching this matter, which may,
perhaps, show that you are wrong in your suspicions?" I asked.
"Sir," said Mr. Green, "I am an honest and upright man. I don't think I
am wrong; but if you can show me that I am wrong, I am the man to
confess so, and to make every reparation in my power."
"No doubt, sir; but you must pardon my caution. Gentlemen when surprised
are not always so discreet as on ordinary occasions; and it must be an
unpleasant thing to feel that you have been made a party to the
punishment of an innocent person for a thief's crime."
Mr. Green had before this seriously looked at the possibility of its
turning out that his servant had been injured by him. He had comforted
himself by the notion that, as he had acted _bonâ fide_, no great blame
could attach to him; and if such discovery were made, he had determined
to pursue the honourable course of restoring the injured girl, as far as
he could, to her place in society. He assured me again of that fact.
"Then," I continued, "you will place yourself entirely in my hands
pending this investigation. I shall ask you to let me search this house
from top to bottom, and in every nook and cranny."
Mr. Green scarcely liked that. I somewhat surprised him, and threw him
for a moment in embarrassment.
"I hardly think that necessary," he said.
"I do," I said; "and you know I have had much experience. I am afraid
that time enough has been already given for the destruction of some
traces of guilt; but I am sure that every hour facilitates the
destruction of others."
"As you will, then, sir," said the merchant.
"Then I will again ask you to fortify yourself against the discovery of
any thing surprising; to act with reserve; and I would implore you not
to get up a scene in my presence. If the lad or your other female
servant should, as the result of my investigations, be hunted down this
evening, I shall ask you to take no steps for his or her punishment, or
until you have had time for reflection. In the mean time, I will take
care of the proofs."
"Be it so, then, sir."
"I propose to begin the search in this room, as we are here."
"Yes, sir."
I stepped to the piano, and was about raising the lid, which, of course,
did not open at my desire.
"Have you the key of this piano?"
"No; my wife has it. You had better ask Mrs. Green for it, sir."
He called his wife in.
"My dear," he said, "this gentleman is a private detective. I have told
him that we are anxious for the fullest investigation, and shall be
glad, indeed, if your servant in custody can be found innocent, although
I feel that is totally impossible. Still he thinks he will be able to
get some evidence that will divert suspicion from Eliza to one of the
other servants."
"Well," observed Mrs. Green, "it is an unpleasant thing to have one's
house pulled about in this way; but I suppose it cannot be avoided."
I nodded assent to the lady's speech.
"Will you let me have the key of this piano?" I inquired.
"The piano, sir!" she said falteringly. "That is my piano. What do you
require the key of _that_ for?" And the colour came and went from her
olive countenance, in a way that told me I had discovered the real thief
in the merchant's wife.
A train of thought passed through my mind as rapidly as messages are
conveyed by the harnessed lightning over house-tops, beneath the solid
earth, or under the sea. This was a curious little instance of
kleptomania. The poor wife's morbid secretiveness, acquisitiveness, or
whatever a phrenologist might call "the organ," was in large excess. I
pitied her. Could I here abandon the search, and leave the poor lady's
crime a mystery, or an undetected fact? No; that would not do. She, at
least, had permitted the servant, my client, to be accused. I knew the
depth of woman's cunning. I know how tenaciously one will cling to the
outward forms of respectability and of virtue. I know how horribly
unscrupulous a criminal at bay, with the chance of setting the dogs of
the law on the wrong scent, could be. To relax in my vigilance would be
fatal to my innocent client, whose late mistress, the real thief, would
forge other proofs of the guilt of the guiltless.
Why did I reason to myself thus? Does not innocence tremble, and lose
its self-possession under the remotest suspicion of an offence? Does not
guilt, as a rule, maintain its self-possession, and look with a bold
front upon the perils of its situation? Yes. Ordinarily I see in
embarrassment an indication, not of guilt, but of innocence. But in Mrs.
Green's case there was a firmness with the embarrassment; there was an
expression which I cannot describe in words. There was a dread of me
visible in the attempt to hide that fear. There was an indescribable
_something_, which operated on my mind as moral evidence.
"I won't press for the key, madam, if you are unwilling to let me have
it."
"I am unwilling only, sir, because I think it an impudent request."
"Madam," I replied, "no request can be impudent which is explained by
the fact that I am collecting evidence to rescue innocence from ruin and
shame."
"I shall not give you the key of my piano."
"Again, madam, I say I will not press you for it; but I will state, in
the presence of your husband, that I think it necessary to know what is
contained in that piece of furniture."
Mr. Green was thunderstruck, and bewildered to the verge of insanity. A
light dawned upon his mind, of which I was then unconscious. He
recollected, as he shortly after told me, that not a week before, having
entered the drawing-room, in order to meet his wife, on his return from
the City about half an hour before his usual time, he found her sitting
by the piano. She heavily closed the lid of it as he opened the door.
It was a minute or two after this light dawned upon him before he
recovered his self-possession enough to open his mouth.
His first silent inquiry then was how to save his own humiliation by
covering his wife's disgrace; but this desire mingled with indignation
and disgust that she, so well provided for--even to the matter of
pin-money--should rob her own home. It was, he argued, criminal
insanity. Yet he must dissemble, and baffle me if he could, he thought.
"I don't see what you want to open my wife's piano for, or why you can
wish to inspect the piece of paper, if it be a piece of paper, you see,
which I am not certain about."
"Mr. Green," I said solemnly, "I shall insist upon opening that piano. I
shall break it open if the key is not given me. I have a trust reposed
in me, than which nothing can be more solemn or stern. It is my habit,
sir, to do my duty; and in the present case no earthly consideration of
profit or reward would induce me to forego the slightest clue to the
vindication of the woman whose fate, I may say, is in my hands."
The situation was a very awkward one for all parties.
I thought the better plan would be to take upon myself the first action,
and thus relieve Mrs. Green from any further refusal to produce the key,
by taking from my pocket a small instrument sufficiently powerful to
break the lock. I did this, and neither husband nor wife ventured to
resist me.
As I lifted the lid a letter became visible. Mrs. Green snatched at it,
endeavouring to grasp it off the key-board of the instrument.