Knots Untied; Or, Ways and By-ways in the Hidden Life of American Detectives

by George S. McWatters

James William Hubert Rogers was a peculiar man. I have thought that his history, even the comparatively little I know of it, would be one of the most interesting biographies ever published; but I do not intend to give more of it here than will be necessary to make this narrative connected and clear. Mr. Rogers had been brought up in moderate circumstances, educated to mercantile life in a small way, in a country place in Yorkshire. Prior to being apprenticed, at seventeen years of age, to a merchant, he had constantly attended school from about the age of six years; and whether at the "infant school," or the private classical school of some pretensions, had been as constantly attended by a bosom friend, just "one day and one hour older" than he, as their respective mothers were wont to tell them. This person's name was "Ned" Hague; (whether he, too, had a list of other cumbrous names I never asked, but I presume he had, and I wonder such a burden does not spoil the disposition of children—perhaps it does.) James and Ned played together, romped, studied, and all that together; as children, were inseparable, in short. The one, "Ned," was described to me as a very handsome fellow, and very athletic. James was equally athletic, but was less handsome in face; in fact, though his features were all well enough formed, and there was a hardy look about his face, yet there was a something in his expression of countenance which was at times very repulsive to me; a dogged, unfeeling look, not simply spiteful, but somehow of unwearying, cool-blooded vengeance; yet he was always kind and generous to me throughout our acquaintance. "Ned" came into the world under a little better auspices than James, that is, his parents were a little "better off," and lived in a house which they owned, a little more stylish than that which James's parents occupied, but rented. However, James's father was a better business man than Ned's father, and earned a larger salary. So things were balanced; but James confessed to me that he used, on account of the better house, to be a particle envious of Ned's condition in their childhood, but this was all the ill-feeling he ever had towards him in those days. But James went to mercantile life at seventeen; and a year after, "Ned," having quite an aptitude for writing, connected himself with a small provincial newspaper. The young men continued their intimacy, which was carried into their love affairs as well as into everything else, until they arrived at the age of twenty-three, when there came an "interruption" of their mutual affection, which finally degenerated into mutual dislike, and upon the part of James, whom we will now call Mr. Rogers, into unforgiving, implacable hate. What was the precise cause of this I was never informed in detail, but I learned the general facts from a friend of Mr. Rogers's, whom I met in England some two years after I first made his acquaintance. From all I could gather, there was really no sensible reason for the great enmity which came to exist between these men. But this is not a part of the story, properly, and I must pass it over.

Years went on, and Mr. Rogers and Mr. Hague continued to live near each other. The latter abandoned his steady connection with the newspapers, though he continued to write for the press more or less, and went into business with an old apothecary, and finally succeeded to his whole business at his death. He was more fortunate, for years, than was Mr. Rogers, who, however, managed to live comfortably, and to add considerably to his possessions. During these years, and after their quarrel commenced, the dislike of these men grew into a sort of silent hatred. They had but little to say of each other, but what they did say was crispy with bitterness. Those who remembered their early-life's affection, were astonished that anything could have wrought such an enmity; for both of these men were considered honorable and upright in their dealings with their fellow-men, and were genial citizens, of democratic tastes and associations.

But finally Mr. Rogers became suddenly very rich, through a legacy left him by a quaint old uncle, the brother of his mother, who, in Mr. Rogers's boyhood, had taken a fancy to him. The uncle was a deformed man,—a little in the order of Richard Third,—and this might be said of him, mentally as well as physically. He was competent to have filled the British throne with more credit than many a monarch who has sitten upon it. But Henry De Noyelles (for that was the uncle's name—sprung from an old Norman stock) had curious deformities of face, which excited great ridicule among the heartless. His eyes could not be said to be "crossed" exactly, but something worse, and his nose was oddly shaped, besides being very flexible, and it flapped about as if there was "no bone in it," as the people used to say of it.

Mr. De Noyelles was naturally a proud-spirited man, who felt that, intellectually, he was no man's inferior by nature, and his deformities stung him to the quick. He was a great mechanic naturally, very ingenious and executive; had a rare force for acquiring languages and the sciences; and, driven from society by his deformity and his wounded pride, he occupied his hours out of business with constant reading, and his acquirements in literature became large. He devoted himself considerably in his youth to mathematical studies, and had a great proclivity to civil engineering. He inherited a moderate fortune from his father, and after becoming of age, and feeling that he was ridiculed among his fellow-townsmen, became morose, and learned to hate all English people, and finally betook himself to the Continent, and soon, in some way, attracted the attention of the Emperor of Austria, who gave him place at last as a Superintendent of Engineers, in which capacity his inventive genius served him, and in the course of a few years he became one of the most able operators in Europe, and, enjoying an interest in many valuable contracts, acquired, at last, a vast fortune. Ill-looking that he was, there were elegant women enough ready to marry him for his position and money. But he remained a bachelor, partly through fear of women, whom he looked upon as lacking in conscience, and none of whom, he felt, could really love such a looking creature as he. But he had another reason, which would have decided him, if nothing else had done so. It was this—and when I was told of it, I confess that I felt more respect for the good in humanity than I had ever done before. He said he was unfit for marriage, since he was unfit to be a father; that it were very possible that a child of his would inherit his deformities, especially that of the nose, and that the wealth of all Europe would not induce him to be instrumental in inflicting life upon a being who might suffer as he had done. Indeed, he held peculiar notions upon this subject in general; and taking Malthus's notions in regard to a possible over-peopling of the globe, and the direful consequences thereof, as a basis to write upon, he dilated his views into a small book, which, however, both the Catholic and Protestant doctors of Austria so seriously condemned as heretical, that he came near losing his official position under the government.

But I digress again. Mr. De Noyelles, or as he was called in Austria, for his great learning, Dr. De Noyelles, fell in love with young Rogers, because the boy exhibited an affection for him, and never seemed to be conscious of his uncle's deformities, but treated him as affectionately and obediently as he did his own handsome mother, and noble-looking, symmetrical father, or anybody else. Mr. Rogers had paid his uncle, at the latter's invitation and expense, a short annual visit, for some years, and when Dr. De Noyelles came to die, it was found that he had privately visited England, where the great bulk of his funds was invested, the year before, and had made his will largely in favor of Mr. Rogers, after contributing to sundry charities in a large and generous way, and providing moderately for his sister's (Mr. Rogers's mother) other children.

So Mr. Rogers got to be extremely wealthy; and though it was said of him, by his old neighbors in general, that his great fortune did not seem to make him vain as a man, or render him less approachable than before, it was evident that he prized his good luck most of all for the contrast which it established between him—now the man of abundant leisure and great wealth—and Mr. Hague, still the plodding, though well-to-do, apothecary. In various ways he made, or tried to make, Mr. Hague feel this, but it would seem that the latter gentleman was very imperturbable, and took things quite coolly.

Mr. Rogers set up another apothecary in business, at a point near Mr. Hague's shop, and provided him with a large shop, with brilliant appointments and a large stock, and he caused him to sell cheaper than Mr. Hague could afford to. Indeed, it was said that Mr. Rogers lost some two thousand pounds the first year, in thus going into competition with Mr. Hague; but he persevered. In England it is not an easy thing to draw away customers from an old house where the people can rely upon honest dealings; but Mr. Rogers was bent on doing Mr. Hague all the harm he could. Of course he did not let the public know that he was at the bottom of the matter.

The apothecary, whom he provided with means, came from Liverpool, and Mr. Rogers was at first supposed to have given him only his custom and countenance in trade. But Mr. Hague suspected him from the first; and as things developed, and he became sure of Mr. Rogers's financial support of his rival, Mr. Hague whispered the matter to his own friends, who came, to some extent, to his aid. So the competition became spirited at last, and Mr. Hague found it difficult to contend with his competitor.

Little by little his business frittered away, and he was barely able to meet his current expenses. Mr. Rogers evidently gloated over the downfall of his once bosom friend, now hated enemy; but he said never a word against him, seldom spoke of him at all. Meanwhile Mr. Rogers surrounded himself with all luxuries; bought a splendid old mansion and its magnificent grounds, which he greatly improved, and though not a gaudy man, was vain enough to consult a herald office, and look up a coat of arms for his coach panels and the trappings of his horses' harnesses. He took a great delight in riding after his splendid horses along by the comfortable, but comparatively humble, house of Mr. Hague, and in arraying his wife and children in an attire too costly, not only for Mr. Hague, but any of his neighbors to attempt to imitate. Mr. Rogers enjoyed this kind of mean spite and low pride for considerable time, but there came a turn in affairs.

Thirty years before these days of which I was last speaking, Oliver Hague, or rather Oliver Cromwell Hague,—for he was named after the great Pretender, by his mother, the stanchest of all Protestants, and who was very proud of her ancestors' service under the great Oliver,—a then quite thriving London merchant, went out to India to extend his business there, with the purpose of returning in a year or so; but he remained there. His brother Edward, after whom our Mr. Hague was named, conducted the London end of the business, and the house grew rich very fast.