WHO WAS THE GREATEST CRIMINAL?
About six years ago a detective officer, in the employ of the regularlyconstituted authorities whose local habitation is Scotland Yard,Westminster, was directed to track a young delinquent who had, it wassaid, forged the autograph of his master, a tradesman in the borough ofSouthwark.
The search was not a very difficult one. The culprit, who had onlydefrauded some one of 50_l._ by that operation, I dare say, thought hehad got possession of an inexhaustible fortune; or I should rather saythat he acted as if he thought so.
It is said that thieves (I mean strictly professional thieves), who haveeither been born and bred to the craft of robbery, or who have served anirregular apprenticeship thereto, look with cool deliberation at therisks and contingencies of every enterprise, weigh its profit or loss,and are careful not to load the adverse scale of probabilities byrashness or indiscretion. This is, I believe, the case with regularthieves. It is not the case with those who are betrayed by impulse ornecessity into the commission of a single crime. Fast men (clerks,shopmen, and the like), when they rob a till, steal a few pounds' worthof goods, or even perpetrate a forgery, act in the most foolish wayimaginable. In most cases they aid the task of their discovery, if theydo not entirely lay open the secret of their crime.
The case I am describing illustrates one half of my theory, and showsthe truth of an old saw which affirms that ill-gotten money does no goodto the possessor.
The means of the fraud or forgery were procured by the criminal on theMonday afternoon. On the Tuesday morning he made use of them. He did noton that day put in an appearance at his situation, and his absence wasimmediately remarked. An inquiry was made, by his master's directions,at his lodgings, and it was ascertained that he had not slept theresince the Monday night. His landlady was as uneasy about him as hismaster--perhaps more so. She was starting to make inquiries concerninghim, when inquiries were made of her on the subject. The good woman, awidow, who was the mother of a family (all grown up to man and woman'sestate, and off her hands), dreaded that some harm had come to herlodger. These forebodings of evil took no definite shape,--that is tosay, a hundred different forms of peril, misadventure, and sufferingcrowded so rapidly on the kind-hearted woman's brain, that they becamemerged and confused; but her suspicions never traced the fact, nor anything like the reality. The master of the young man, so far unlike thelandlady, was not troubled by many thoughts about his clerk. All thatgentleman said or thought about him may be put into a few shortsentences. He said he was a blackguard, and that he should never have acharacter from him; that it was a rascally shame to leave him in thelurch, without the slightest notice; that he ought to be punished (asartisans are in the manufacturing districts) for neglecting his work,and breaking his contract for service. Yet, argued the master, "thereare plenty of fish in the sea as good as were ever caught. I dare say Ican get another clerk, after all, any day, at 15_s._ per week, quite asgood as that fellow. When Mr. Thinshanks comes back whining for me toemploy him, he'll find that I won't, that's all. No, it isn't alleither. I shall just tell him a bit of my mind as well. I'll kick himout of my counting-house, and tell him to go to ----" Well, never mindwhere, my readers; it wasn't Botany Bay, nor Woolwich, nor Portsmouth,nor Millbank, nor Pentonville, that the metaphor or expletive assignedas his destination. Perhaps your imagination, reader, will spare me allexcuse for sullying my pages by mentioning the locality, which someoriginal mind has said is not fit to name or write to ears or eyespolite.
In Wednesday morning's _Times_ there appeared an advertisement, whichinformed the readers of the leading journal that Mr. Crapp wanted, asclerk, a single young man, of good education, quick at accounts, whowrote a superior hand, of unquestionable sobriety, strict honesty, andenjoying one or two minor qualities. These must must be vouched byundeniable references. The salary offered by Mr. Crapp was 15_s._ perweek. Three hundred applicants wrote to J. C. (Mr. Crapp's initials), atthe post-office adjacent to his place of business, in the course ofWednesday. On Thursday morning the employer selected from the lot half adozen letters, and saw as many young men that evening. On Friday anapplicant who had passed through "the ordeal by reference" whole andunscathed in body and reputation, was given the stool on which Mr.Thinshanks had been long perched with honour.
That day the new clerk received a numerous body of commands. He had beencalled upon to solemnly declare before Mr. Crapp that he wasn't afraidof work; and the truth of such averment was tested, as far as it couldbe, in a single day--on the Friday.
Among the numerous directions Mr. Crapp gave his new clerk wereinstructions to write to Messrs. Clockwork and Rigid, politely askingthe reason why they had not acknowledged the receipt of the cheque for50_l._ 4_s._ 1-1/2_d._, which had been sent them in due course on theprevious Monday afternoon?
This firm carried on business in the neighbourhood of Shoreditch. It didnot take long for Mr. Thinshanks's successor to write that and a dozenother letters of equal brevity, and it, with the others, was posted byeleven o'clock on Friday morning.
Messrs. Clockwork and Rigid were astonished. They had not received anysuch cheque, although they had expected to receive one for such anamount from Mr. Crapp. They also knew that the cheque could not havebeen delivered at, and lost or mislaid in, their establishment. Theextreme regularity of all their proceedings, the elaborate system ofcheck and counter-check which their genius had many years ago devisedand set in motion, enabled them to say at once that the error oraccident or wrong, of whatever kind it might be, was not to be laidinside their doors. Further than this they did not care to inquire. Theloss, if there was to be a loss, would not be theirs. As a matter offairness and good-will as between tradesmen, Messrs. Clockwork and Co.thought it their duty to inform Mr. Crapp as speedily as they could thathis cheque had never reached the firm in Shoreditch. A letter wasimmediately written and despatched to Mr. Crapp, apprising him of thatuntoward fact.
Mr. Crapp saw at a glance, as any fool might have done, that between thenon-receipt of his cheque by Messrs. Clockwork and Rigid and thedisappearance of Mr. Thinshanks there was a link. The money which oughtto have passed from his bankers to the bankers of his correspondents wasthat link. He had been robbed of 50_l._ 4_s._ 1-1/2_d._ by that villainThinshanks! Such base, black, vile ingratitude, after the kind manner inwhich he had treated that vagabond! He deserved to be hung, quoth hislate master, in token of the remnant of that same loving kindness ofwhich he had just spoken.
Mr. Crapp dismissed the messenger from Messrs. Clockwork with a formalexpression of thanks, which, out of the frame of mind he then enjoyed,it was hard to extract.
He determined--although, as he said, it was a painful duty--to prosecutethe villain with the utmost rigour of the law. He put on his hat, and,to speak exactly, he may be described as having rushed to hisattorney's office. That gentleman had left for the day. He was able toquit the dingy office for a cheerful home at an early hour just now. Theincidents I have described took place during that portion of the year soobnoxious to plaintiffs and pleasant to defendants (always exceptdebtors on bills of exchange, who come under the purview of a statutedesignated by some gloomy wag as the Sudden Death Act), the LongVacation. The business on which the client wanted the advice andguidance of his attorney would not justify an invasion of the home ofthe latter; so he must necessarily wait until to-morrow.
While pausing for the interview between Mr. Crapp and Mr. Croak (thesolicitor), will the reader ask himself, Had the clerk robbed _hismaster_ of the 50_l._ 4_s._ 1-1/2_d._ in question?
Perhaps the reader has a judicial mind. I hope he has. Some day he mayhave to sit on a jury, as no doubt he has already had to do. That frameof mind has enabled him, and will enable him, to discharge his importantduties to society as a juryman in a sagacious manner. Well, then, thereader, having a judicial mind, can't exactly say. The evidence isinsufficient. He will wait and hear what other facts I have to disclose,before he gives his decision on the issue I have raised. A wisereservation.
Mr. Crapp went home again after his fruitless visit to the attorney'soffice.
He looked critically and suspiciously at his new clerk, to see whether_he_ looked like a thief or not; and he did many other things, which, asthey do not touch the issue just raised, or that raised by the questionat the head of this narrative, the reader need not ask me to relate.
Mr. Crapp, it may, however, be as well to say, was impatient for thecapture of the thief. He reasoned much and seriously with himself on thesubject, and came to the conclusion that, if he delayed all action inthe matter until the morning, he might be neglecting his duty to societyat large. The culprit might escape in the course of that very night toAmerica, or some other sanctuary for crime. Too much time had alreadybeen given him for defeating the pursuit of British justice. The policeought to be instructed at once. Yes, he would go to the neareststation-house and inform the police. He did so. The inspector on dutyintroduced him to Mr. Sergeant Downey, and that expert thief-catcher andmystery-prober took from Mr. Crapp a full, true, and particular accountof the matter--as far as the prosecutor could relate it.
Sergeant Downey had not much doubt about catching the offender. Theyoung man had the good or ill fortune to possess a marked andindividualised countenance and gait. The offence was, in allprobability, his first crime. The officer did not think the thief hadleft the country; nor had he, as the next incidents will show.
That night a row took place in one of the haunts of pleasure and vice atthe West End of the metropolis. A robbery was committed upon a young manfrom the country in one of the night-houses of the Haymarket, during asquabble between some "social evils" and fast men who had therecongregated. The police, on being called in, seized two men on suspicionof having perpetrated the offence. One of them next morning wasliberated by the sitting magistrate. His pocket-book, his card-case, andhis own explanations, warranted his declaration that he was "agentleman," and innocent of the robbery. Another, and a young man, wasnot so fortunate. Having, he said, the fear of the reporter and thenewspapers before his eyes; being, he added, unwilling to disgrace hisrespectable friends; and being withal sure to lose his situation if ittranspired that he had spent an evening in such disreputablesociety,--he refused to give his name and address. The victim of theaffray could not identify the reticent person as the thief, and wasready to admit the reasonableness of his excuse for secrecy; but themagistrate thought the police ought to know something more than they didabout him before he was set at large. "It was," the learned gentlemansaid, "very strange that a young man should have about him, in such aplace, in bank-notes and gold, about three-and-twenty pounds."Notwithstanding his appeals and protestations, and in despite the air ofinjured innocence he put on, and although the police knew nothing to hisdisadvantage except his presence at the scene of the robbery and thepossession of this money, he was remanded, in order that furtherinquiries might be made about him.
Sergeant Downey paid a visit to the house of detention, and was allowedto see the reticent prisoner. The sergeant asked him if his name was notThinshanks? The prisoner said, "No, it wasn't." The officer shook hishead in token of doubt about the truthfulness of that denial, andgrinned sardonically. He went direct from the house of detention to theabode of Mr. Crapp. Both afterwards visited the temporary prison. Theplausible sufferer was at once identified by the tradesman as hisabsconded clerk. Mr. Thinshanks, although sullen and as reticent asever, was humiliated and crushed by the terrible eye of his late master.
Mr. Crapp's solicitor, when first consulted by his client, advised himnot to think of prosecuting. Such a step was, he said, unsatisfactory.If the thief were caught, the affair would cost his prosecutor a tidysum of money, in addition to his present loss, and a world of trouble toboot. The prosecution could not be left in the hands of the police. Ifso, the scoundrel would, in all probability, escape; and who could tellthat he might not then turn upon the kind master he had robbed, andbring an action against him for false imprisonment? If, on the otherhand, the prosecution were conducted by Mr. Croak with proper vigour andskill, so as to secure a conviction, as the scoundrel merited, Mr. Crappwould have to pay a bill of costs; he would have to kick his heels forseveral days about the Surrey Sessions-House (the atmosphere of whichwas physically deleterious); he would sustain discomfort, lose histemper, and impair his digestion, or perhaps his health, in addition tothe loss of his money. Mr. Crapp inveighed against the rules andpractice of British criminal jurisprudence, because it did not bear allthe cost of prosecutions, liberally pay witnesses for their time andtrouble, and hold out premiums to loyal men for their energetic pursuitof justice. But, at any necessary cost, and any unnecessaryinconvenience or annoyance, he said he was prepared to do his duty byhunting this forger as near to the gallows as such a culprit might bedriven.
When Mr. Croak was informed that the criminal had been taken, and thatupon him nearly half the proceeds of the cheque had been found, thelegal gentleman's objections to a prosecution were not so pointed anddecided as they had been. He merely observed to his client that thefellow must now be so prosecuted as to insure his conviction; and hethought, although he did not so say, that the money which Mr. Thinshankshad not dissipated would suffice, in addition to the scanty allowance ofthe Home Office, to pay the cost of his judicial condemnation. Mr.Crapp, who ostentatiously grieved over the wickedness of the foolishyoung man, withal begged that, in the interests of outraged justice, Mr.Croak would employ all his eminent skill; and at the same time wished itto be understood that when the trial came off he desired the counsel forthe prosecution would inform the judge, the jury, the spectators, thereporters, the readers of newspapers, and the outer world, that he, Mr.Crapp, the prisoner's kind-hearted master, recommended him to mercy.
James Thinshanks was in due course taken before one of the magistratesof Southwark on the accusation for which he had _not_ been arrested, andthe one for which he had been taken up was dropped.
At the first examination of the prisoner Mr. Crapp was represented by acounsel in a stuff gown, and very learned in the criminal law of hiscountry. The reader will not care to have a report of his speech when Itell him that it was not worth reporting. Of this scene and itsincidents it is enough to say, that Mr. Snayke, the learned counsel(then attired in stuff, but who now wears silk), did not trouble himselfto examine the charge-sheet, and took the accusation as it had beenframed by the police, without inquiring about its accuracy. The evidencewas yet, however, of the flimsiest character, and scandalouslyincomplete. The cheque was not in court; and so many other essentialingredients of the case were only conspicuous by their absence, that Mr.Snayke should merely ask the bench to remand the prisoner. Aninsignificant fact or two were then given in evidence, and the prisoner,who offered no objection, was remanded for seven days. He would haveacquiesced in a remand for seven or ten times seventy months. Much asthe stupid and mean thief disliked the house of detention, its diet, andits restraints, he had an intenser dread of what is called "a trial,"with its inevitable sequel, a conviction. He drew a species or a degreeof comfort from the philosophy of Hamlet. He would very much rather bearthe ills he had, than fly to others which appalled by their veryuncertainty. He had not yet arrived at that other stage of criminalphilosophy (which a genteel villain named William Roupell found, it issaid, in Spain) that draws its only consolation out of knowing theworst.
After the first examination of the prisoner, Mr. Snayke intimated toMr. Croak he thought it very desirable to have a consultation as earlyas possible. Mr. Croak understood, or--not to pay him an unduecompliment--he _saw_ that there was _something_ in the suggestion. Hetherefore indorsed the learned counsel's brief with that potent word"consultation," and with the yet more potent figure of two guineas.
A meeting between attorney and counsel took place that very afternoon atthe chambers of Mr. Snayke. Mr. Croak attended it himself, and nobodyelse was there. It was a secret meeting; but I shall take the liberty ofdrawing aside the veil, and letting the reader into this consultation. Ishall ask him to prick up his ea
rs, so that he may lose nothing of theconversation, and to concentrate his attention, so that he mayunderstand what he hears.
"Mr. Croak."
"Yes, sir."
"Pray be seated."
"Thank you, sir."
This was the frigid tone of a greeting between the mouthy criminaladvocate and the patron attorney who buttered his bread on both sides. Iam told that this bumptiousness on the one hand, and humbleness on theother, is the almost invariable style of intercourse between thetechnically upper and the technically lower ranks of the legalprofession. Much of the power of wig and gown is said to depend upon themaintenance of a relative status in the business of the law.
After a moment or two of iciness, Mr. Snayke's consciousness of what wasdue to the attorney warmed him, so he grew polite and morecondescending towards his inferior brother and paymaster.
"You see, Croak," said the great Snayke, "that it is very important toframe this charge against the prisoner accurately, and I should like toknow the real facts of the case--such as can be established in evidenceexactly--which I do not yet. Did the prisoner steal a cheque with theamount and so forth filled in, and with his master's signature attachedin his master's own handwriting, or did the fellow steal a blank cheque,and fill it in, and sign it with his master's name? The distinction isimportant to the prisoner himself, because the different facts establishdifferent crimes; but the prosecutor is far more interested, as it seemsto me, in this part of the affair than the accused."
"Pardon me, sir, if I say I don't see _that_," the attorney ventured tosay.
"Oh, obviously," replied Mr. Snayke. "If the cheque had been perfectlydrawn by the prosecutor--if it had his signature making the 50_l._ 4_s._1-1/2_d._ payable to Messrs. Clockwork and Rigid or bearer--if it was acomplete and genuine cheque, then it is plain that the loss must beborne by Mr. Crapp. It was an act of embezzlement of a cheque or itsproceeds by his own clerk. Suppose, on the other hand, that the prisonerstole a blank cheque, and wrote his master's name at the foot thereof,that would be a forgery; and the bank must bear the loss, because theyhave no right or authority to pay forged cheques."
A light entered the head of the attorney. He was lawyer enough to see apoint when his microscopic vision had been sharpened, and when thepoint was held up to him. He told Mr. Snayke that he could notdistinctly say--he had not positively ascertained from theprosecutor--whether or not the cheque was stolen in blank, or after ithad been filled up and signed. He would see how the matter stood in thisrespect, and further instruct Mr. Snayke.
The attorney afterwards had a conference with his client, in which heendeavoured to expound the law of the case to the prosecutor before hesought to learn how the facts stood. I don't know what the reader maythink of this order of proceeding. It strikes me as having not beenquite logical, or morally correct. It was very like giving Mr. Crapp ahint how he might shape the facts, and throw off a burden or loss fromhis own shoulders to those of the banker. Until indeed this result ofthe legal demonstration was made quite apparent to the prosecutor, hecould not be induced to tax his memory about the facts.
"You see," said Mr. Croak, "if you really did fill up and sign thecheque, and happened to suffer it to lie about unnoticed for an hour ortwo; or suppose, after filling it up and signing it, you handed it toThinshanks to post to Clockwork's, and suppose he stole it or cashed itwithout authority, and appropriated to his own use the proceeds--?"
"Well, suppose he did. That's what he did do, I dare say," replied Mr.Crapp.
"I hope not," rejoined the attorney.
"Hope not! What's the use of hoping not? the blackguard's bad enough forany thing."
"No doubt he is; but, you see, if he stole a cheque after you had signedit, we couldn't say that he forged your signature, could we?"
"No, I suppose not; but what matters about that? Isn't it as wicked andabominable to steal a cheque signed, as it would be to steal oneunsigned? If it isn't forgery, it's robbery, felony, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes, my good Mr. Crapp; but I must speak plainer, I see. I want tofind out who is to be at the loss of the money--the 50_l._ odd."
"Why, I suppose I must be--of course, mustn't I?"
"I don't know. Let us see how the facts and the law stand. I hope I canshow that not my client, but the bank, must bear the loss of the cash."
"Oh, I see your drift; but how is that to be made out?"
"Why, suppose you left your drawer open--just suppose, you know, it hadso happened--and that you left your cheque-book available to yourclerk." (Here the attorney drew breath, and looked critically at hisclient.) "Suppose that he tore out a blank cheque, and filled it up, andwrote your signature under the order to pay, that would be forgery, youknow."
"Yes, I know that."
"Then you would _not_ have to lose the money. The banker would lose it."
"Would he?"
"Yes; because if he pays a forged cheque, the consequences are his, notyours."
Mr. Crapp was bewildered by the strength of his new enlightenment.
"Ah! I see. Yes. I wonder how it was? Now, 'pon my word, Mr. Croak, Ican't tell for the life of me at this moment how it was. I'll rub up mymemory. I'll let you know to-morrow."
The client and attorney parted company. The former, on his return home,at once sent his pass-book to the bank, and got his account made up. Thecheques which had been cashed since the last balancing of his accountwere of course returned in the pass-book, and among them the cheque madepayable to "Clockwork or bearer," and not crossed.
Whoever wrote the signature of "Jno. Crapp," there could be no doubtthat the date and the amount (in words and in figures) were written byThinshanks. This, however, was not remarkable. The clerk usually wrotethe body of cheques, for his master to sign.
Mr. Crapp pondered long and anxiously over the document. He compared thesignature "Jno. Crapp" with the same autograph on other cheques. Did hedoubt who had written his name at the foot of that order to pay? No. Heknew it was his own writing. He was only looking at it to see whether hecould find a sufficient excuse to say it was not his writing. Strangelyenough, the "Jno. Crapp" on this cheque was not exactly like that on theothers. This signature was a little more extended, or sprawling, thanhis customary autograph. How was that? He recollected perfectly well. Hewrote it in a frightful hurry. He had on the day he wrote it--in theafternoon--promised to take his dear wife, Mrs. Crapp, to the theatre.He was racing through his business that afternoon. It was also very oddthat he neglected to cross the cheque. That neglect arose through thesame cause. Dare he venture to say, on his oath, with all theconsequences of perjury before his eyes, that he had not written "Jno.Crapp" on that slip of paper? Why not? Who should contradict him? Whocould do so? Only Thinshanks. Was that possible? Yes, he might from thedock contradict him, but his evidence could not be taken; and theunlikeness of the signature was a further guarantee against harm to theprosecutor from such a denial. He (Mr. Crapp) was a respectable man.Could he swear to the lie without blushing? He was afraid not. Yes, hecould--he would. He couldn't afford the loss of 50_l._ It was a heavysum for him to lose. It was a fleabite to Undertails. They were richbeyond computation. He would venture to say it was not his signature,and risk discovery. Nobody could give legal evidence to thecontrary--that was very certain.
At the next examination Mr. Snayke opened the case as one of forgery.The learned counsel argued that the prisoner at the bar had doubtlessseized an opportunity, when his master's back was turned, to tear out ablank cheque from the book, had filled up the stump; he had filled upthe body of the cheque (which was not unusual), but he had also writtenhis master's name underneath--a course never allowed by Mr. Crapp, neverbefore done by this young man, and which he had no authority whateverfor doing. Of course he had not crossed the cheque, which showed hisintention to misapply the proceeds, so that he might get those proceedsto dissipate in that haunt of vice from which he had been taken. It was(Mr. Snayke proceeded to say) an artful contrivance, and had so wellsucceeded, that his master, gu
ided by the stump-cheque, was really led,in the absence of reflection, to suppose that he had, in the usual way,signed the draft itself with his own hand; but on looking carefully atthe signature he immediately saw that, although a clever imitation ofhis autograph, this "Jno. Crapp" had never been written by him. He (Mr.Snayke) could very well understand how even a bank-clerk might, withoutpausing to compare signatures, honour the forged draft; but the worthymagistrate, or any one, upon making the comparison between the severalcheques he now offered for comparison with the one payable to Messrs.Clockwork, see that it was not in the same handwriting as the others.His highly respectable client would distinctly swear that the signaturewas forged, and there could be no doubt about it. The case was nowcomplete, or would be when he had laid the evidence he had in courtbefore his worship; and he should ask for the prisoner's committal tothe next sessions, to stand his trial on the charge he had described.
The evidence sustained the learned gentleman's address. The prisoner,who was not a little astonished at the extraordinary blunder of hismaster, as he thought it, saw no object in explaining how the casereally stood. If he could get rid of the proof of the one allegedforgery--that of "Jno. Crapp"--he could not hope to grapple with theother charge. He saw that the robbery of the cheque and its proceedscould be proved. He did not know the object his master had in swearingthat his own signature was not his handwriting, and if he had beeninformed, the same authority might have told him that his purpose wouldnot have been very effectually served by trying to expose the fraud andvillany of his master.
What did happen in the progress of this very remarkable case, the readerwill learn.
The prisoner's committal was reported in the newspapers. His family,with whom he had not communicated, thus got to know of his situation.They communicated with him. They employed an attorney for him, whosename I shall call Shark.
Mr. Shark, who is a notable man in the transpontine region of themetropolis, and looked upon as almost a deity, at least in power orskill, by the criminal heathen "across the border," had privateinterviews with the culprit in his temporary gaol. Mr. Shark told hisclient to make a clean breast of it with him--that he must know thewhole truth, if he was to do him any good, &c.
The unhappy client was as candid as the attorney could wish. He pleadedguilty at this investigation--not of forgery, but of the other offence.He insisted that the "Jno. Crapp" had been written by the hand of hismaster, in a hurry, as described, and that the neglect to cross thecheque had been the clerk's temptation. He saw that by intercepting thecourse of the cheque from Crapp's to Clockwork's, and that by presentingit at Messrs. Undertail's himself, he could easily get the sum of50_l._ 4_s._ 1-1/2_d._ Under an evil impulse he determined to do so, andwas foolish and guilty enough to obey that impulse.
The wretched young man declared that he had never before been guilty ofa dishonest act. This was, he solemnly protested, his first offence. Hiswhole career had been blasted by yielding to the one temptation. He alsopoured into the indifferent ear of his legal adviser the story of hiswretchedness from the moment when he clutched his ill-gotten money. Hehad, he said, endured an agony of remorse. In wild excitement he hadafterwards, until his arrest, obtained his only relief from the pangs ofconscience. Several times he had resolved to throw himself upon themercy of his late employer; but the savage sternness of that gentleman'scharacter made him tremble on the threshold of that good resolution.
Mr. Shark saw at once, and almost admired, the ingenuity of the deviceadopted by the prosecution for throwing the loss of the money upon thebankers. He did not think it necessary to enlighten his client on thishead, and allowed him to indulge the belief that Mr. Crapp's evidencecontained an involuntary misstatement of fact. He did not, he said tohimself, think it any part of his duty to interfere between theprosecutor and his bankers. The prisoner had scarcely any object to gainby the denial of the forgery; and he would assuredly get no one tobelieve him.
This criminal practitioner saw just one use he could make of hisclient's frank instructions. The threat of an explanation on the onehand, and the promise of silence on the other, might get a strongrecommendation to mercy from the prosecutor.
Mr. Shark called upon Mr. Croak. What passed at the interview may beguessed at through the result. When at the trial Mr. Snayke repeated thespeech of which I have given an outline, he added that the prosecutor,who had been convinced that this was the prisoner's first crime, and wasanxious that he should have an opportunity of recovering his lostcharacter, instructed his counsel to recommend him to the mercifulconsideration of the court.
The facts were proved, and something more than the facts were sworn to.The jury found the prisoner guilty. The judge, after giving, as he said,full effect to the generous recommendation of the prosecutor, sentencedthe culprit to four years' penal servitude.
The bankers allowed Mr. Crapp the amount of the stolen cheque, which hadbeen declared a forgery by the deliberate judgment of a criminal court.
* * * * *
About twelve months out of the four years of hard punishment allotted tothe dishonest clerk had been served in patience and unrepiningpenitence. He had won the good opinion of warders, governor, andchaplain. He was granted such indulgences as were consistent with thediscipline of his prison. He was not unlikely to get a ticket of leaveas soon as one could be granted.
One evening, amid the calm thoughts which solitude engendered, therecame a notion that he ought not to have allowed that error of Mr.Crapp's about his own autograph to have gone uncorrected. It was, hehad always understood, desirable to tell the truth--if for no special orother reason, for the abstract interests of truth. And, for his ownsake, was it not desirable to let the real facts be known? Why should hesuffer under the odium of a deeper criminality than he had been guiltyof? He determined to speak to the chaplain on the subject. He did so.The chaplain thought he was right in desiring to make theseexplanations. The reverend gentleman, in his simplicity, said he wouldwrite to Mr. Crapp and so endeavour to lighten the burden of thatgentleman's prejudice, and perhaps get his signature to a memorial onhis late clerk's behalf. The chaplain, in an accidental bit of wisdom,mentioned the story of the convict to the governor. The governor saw atonce, or suspected there had been, an object in Mr. Crapp's evidence,although he hardly knew what it was. His brother-in-law, who was asolicitor, was then on a visit at his house for a couple of days. Thewhole story was repeated by the chaplain and governor to the lawyer. Hetraced the successful fraud in his imagination at once. Thecircumstances were accordingly mentioned to the proper authorities, whodirected that the facts should be communicated to Messrs. Undertail, thebankers.
The head of the banking firm who had been so defrauded out of 50_l._4_s._ 1-1/2_d._, consulted their solicitors, and was informed that underthe new law of evidence the testimony of Thinshanks could be used in aprosecution against Mr. Crapp, which they recommended as an act ofsimple justice, and for the interests of the banking community. Mr.Undertail's partner was a truly generous man. He shrunk from thedestruction of a respectable tradesman, and the firm was by this partnerled to hesitate. Mr. Undertail consulted the solicitors again on thesubject, and they still thought the firm were bound to prosecute.
There were some difficulties about the case. The evidence of the convictmight be disbelieved. Mr. Snayke, or whoever might be Mr. Crapp'scounsel for his defence, would assuredly argue that the convict had, inthe solitude of his prison, invented this story, in order to gratify arevengeful feeling against the master who, although he had prosecutedhim to conviction under a stress of duty, had recommended him to mercy.Yet there were some corroborating facts to be laid before the jury.Experts might testify that the signature was not a forgery. Mr. Crapp'shurry might be sworn to by the convict; his visit to the theatre, whichcaused it, might be proved. The motive of throwing the loss upon thebankers could be argued.
Second thoughts in a counting-house at Lombard Street ran in the samedirection as in the solicitors' office. It was determi
ned to prosecuteMr. Crapp, in the prospect of his conviction for the good of society.
Within a few hours of the formation of this opinion Mr. Crapp fled fromhis house, and as a living man was never again heard of. The body of aman resembling him was ten days afterwards washed ashore at BarkingCreek.
I suspect that Mr. Undertail's partner was led by his excessivegenerosity to warn the wretch of his peril, that he fled in consequence,and that, dreading capture, shame, and punishment, he committed suicideby drowning.
Does the reader wish me to answer the question at the head of thisnarrative? He is welcome to my opinion, and at liberty to differ from itif it does not please him. I think Mr. Crapp was worse than his clerk; Ithink that Mr. Croak was a greater criminal than either; but I considerthat the vilest knave of the lot was Mr. Snayke.