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

by George S. McWatters

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.