An Extraordinary and Fatal Concidence.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1869, 6 February 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

An Extraordinary and Fatal Concidence.

Strange Confession of a Banker. Told by an ex Detective. PART I. Although an old hand myself, I have no prejudices against the younger members ol the profession. The powers of observation and calculation lead to success among privacy policemen, just as they do in other callings in life, and the faculties grow and become more acute with time and experience. 01 course a man mußt progress with the events — eld fogeyism is no good in any line of business. One thing is very certain, and that ia this — long service is a great advantage to tho force. To explain clearly what I moan, I'll give you a most extraordinary experience of my own, I was a very young officer when one morning I was sent for before seven o'clock. A bank had been broken open and ths messenger so murderously assaulted tha6 it was believed to have been the work of well-known hands. The firm of^ which I speak is no longer ia existence, or it has merged into one of the great joint-stock affairs. It was of the oldfashioned kind, having headquarters in Bir-ehin-lane, and branches near Golden-square, in Hammersmith, Lambeth, Chelsea, and Islington. The robbery was at the branch at Golden-square. The bank premises was an old-fashioned bouse with a narrow-paved paesage on the right hand leading to a square courtyard, which separated the counting-houses and the dwelling-house. I and a comrade were conducted along this passage and into the courtyard by Mr. Upcott, the branch manager, and tbere we found a pool of blood beside a wooden house, Bimilar to those used by road contractors as movable offices. Tha watchman—an old soldier — had been removed to the kitchen, and there we at once went to find him under the dootor's hands, lying on a great chintz-oovered settle before the fire. We entered the room very softly, but the medioal man said : " No necessity for quietness, gentlemen. He's beyond hearing." "Not dead, I hope?" eaid Mr. Upcott, eagerly. II No, sir, not dead, but I fear he is beyond recovery. His skull is fractured, and the chancei are a thousand to one he will never return to consciousness." I was close behind Mr. Upoott, and was astounded by hearing him utter a long sigh, which sounded to me like a sigh of reiief. Giving a quick glance to his face, I found, as 1 thought, a sudden lighting up of the eyes, which I, of course, connected with the sigh, and called a look 0! triumph. We were about to leave this room, when the housekeeper appeared, and, approaching the manager, said, in a low voice ; " Mr, Barnett has arrived." " I dare not meet him," ha half murmured. " Who is Mr. Barnett ?" I asked. 41 The head of tho firm," he answered. I then noticed, what I had no; observed before, that the firm was called Tyndale, Barnett and Co., and it seemed that Mr. Tyadala had long been dead. " Why Bhould you fear to meet Mr. Barnett ?" I asked, bolder than I would have been had I not heard that sigh or noticed that gleam of triumph. Mr. Upcott was a tall, brown-haired, goodlooking man of about forty yeara of age. At first I was not prepossessed by hia demeanor, but when I put the last question to him he dr6\v himfcelt up with considerable dignity, and replied : " Ia it strange that— l mean, Bhould not s man in my position feel like one who has, in a Bense, neglected hia duty when the property entrusted to nis C3re haa oeea ttolen 1 Strange that I should have slept through ie all 1" ano without other excuse he hunitd away, and shortly returned, bowing somewhat obseqaiously to an old-fascio-ned gentleman cad in a long, olaret-ooioured frock-coat, a b-li-topped hat, and a voluminous white cravat that reminded me of pictures of George the Fourth. " Who are these men 1" Mr. Burnett asked. " Tne officsrd." " What do you think of the affair ?" " We have ajen nothing yet except thepooi man lying there," 1 replied. " How ia this ? ' inquired Mr. Birnett, sternly, of the manager, Upcott. " They had just arrived before you, sir, and commenced ttieir examination here. lam ready to conduct them over the buiidiag now." '• Wait until I accompany you," proseeded the old gentleman. Ha then approached the doctor and asked in a gentle voice thai; was rather pleasant to hear : " Will poor Munro recover ?" " I fear cot," rtplied the doctor. " Spare no expense, I pray you." " I shall use every efiort to bring him to his senses before he dies," was the docior'a rather impatient answer. " I am not thinking of what information he may giveuV proceeded tne banker, sternly. "He wa3 a jmost worthy and trustworthy man, and I would give four times the money we have lost to find him hale and hearty this morning. If you need assistance send for the best in the prof-esion. I pray you spare no expense to bring him back to life." " I shall gladly avail myself of your generous offer," said iha doctor. " 1 shall send at once to Seville-row for Be. Hartley." As the dootor spoke he dropped the right arm of the injured, man, and my quick ear heard eornetumg drop on the floor. At the same instant the docscr proceeded to explain the nature of the fracture of the head, and as Mr. Bdrnett, Mi-. Upoott, and my comrade leaned listening and looking at the old watohman on tne sofa, I, unobserved as I thought, stooped down and picked up a small gold stud. I had no time to examine it thsn, so I s!ipp3d it quietly into my waistcoat pooket. Tue next moment Mr. Burnett aaid : "Now, gentleman, I am ready," " This way, theu," said Mr. Upcott. " I shall show you how the thieves came in, and" " S:eady." I interrupted. "15 would suit us besJ to ficid that out fjr ourselves." "Ot coutee," cried the banker. " They don't want your tt eoriea, Upcott." " I suppose not," he said, quietly. " Well lam at your service, sir, ' beproceeded.looking squarely into my eyes. " Tne s*f3 waa broken open, I presume?" said I. "Unlocked," was the reply. " Unlocked 1" ecaoad the banker, raising his eyebrows. " Ye*, sir ; unlocked by a key of snob imperfect workmanship that it has remained ie Inelucb." "Lead the way to the door," I proceeded. " Tfce nearest way ?" " Tha i-eareot way," I replied. Comiug from ths front door uf the back, or dwelhng-nouse, there was another door on the rigiit baud which opened info a pas?agt connecting toe bank ftiih a stairc&se kadinp. to the rufinager'a apartments in the tir-t-named building. Uuuer this staioase waa h flight of Btairs leatiiug down to the vaults ol the bank. Tnid door on the right hand of the court waa found open, as was the iron door at the foot of the stairs mentioned. Tois door hut. no look,and was. simply heavily barred inside We entered by this door. It was an old-fashioned safe that stood open before us. The key, as Mr. Upeot; said, was in the lock, and was evidently 0 rough workmanship, j jdgmg from the touch and comparing it wicb trie highly polish et one the manager drew from his waistcoa pocket. As I knelt, examining the burglar key, Mr. Upcott bent over me with the othei Turning lor it, my eyes fell upon the »tuu. bo wore. Oa a plain, bxiUiautlj'burnisiieu

Bnrface of gold was a heart pierced by an an 07/. I took a mental nota o! th.it ag I «o of mostly everything, and proceeded with 1117 examination.! "Tho amount of money missing ia" I began. " Two hundred pounds," replied Upcott. " How much would that turn weigh," I asked — "sptakrng roughly, of conrae ?" " I can tell you ezaofcly," returned the manager; but I interrupted him by saying: •• Something abort of two pounds, I suppose ?" '•Yes," " Permit me to taka'a nots," I continued, rising and approaching the grated windows opening upon the pavement flanking the Btreet. Once there with note-book and penoii In hand. I surrepttiiously drew tha stud I had found from my pocket. Ona glance at iJ made me start. The device upon it wa3 ft heart piercsd by an arrow. Although young and impulsive, I did not permit myself to act upon the disoovery I had made. Returning to the banker and his manager, I proceeded : "Nothing else missing— no bank-notes, securities, bills, or valuables of any sort ?" "Nona at all." " Is there any more gold in the safe ?" I proceeded. " None at all," replied Upcott. "I BhouW explain that this is our silver Eafe." " How came the gold here, then V I' I may explain, I suppose, Mr.' Barnett?" said the manager, turning to the banker. " Of course," replied the old gentleman. " This safe," Mr. Upcott went on, " contains the silver in uee, and usually the gold necessary for change or business during tba first two hours in the morning. Oa this safe the cashier holds a duplicate key with myself." " Just so," I went on. "01 the other safe3, l alone nossess keya b6re. Mr. Barnett, of ooure, haa dupiioates at the hoad office." " This is not the cashier's key, I suppose?" pointing to the one fixed in tba safe. "Oh.no; and tha cashier ia above suspicion," continued Mr. Upcott. " No one is above suspicion," said I harshly, " in a case like this." " The cashier, Mr. Walton," prooeeded Mr. Upcctt, " ia the son of a friend of Mr. Barnett s, and has only been a month here." " That does not alter the case much," I said. 11 Yon officers would snspect your own mothers I" exclaimed Mr. Upcott. " Not at all," I replied. " Why exclude Mr. Walton from suspicion ?" "Because, sir," returned the manager, gravely, « there have been a series of robberies here during the last twelve months. The amounts missing have not been large, but the pilfering lias been continuous. The fact is, the four bags of cold missiGg contain nothing but marked sovereigns. No one baa Mr. Barnett and I know thie. They have been brought up and down daily for some time, because we suspected Borne of our olerks. Others we have discharged." "Can you give me the addresses of your discharged clerks ?" •J When we go up to the bank." I now looked to the right of the safe, and saw a small-barred window. Two of the bura had been removed, and through this the thieveshad evidently entered. Outside this window was a long, dark passage, leading past the cellars of tho back house, and into an area. At the top of the area staira we fonnd ourselves in a narrow back yard, the tall walb of which were topped by broken glass. A door there had not been open for years, apparently, but a part of the wall had been carefully smoothed —the fragments ljiDg inside with the loose mortar about them. " Ah, that's all plain enough I" I said, intentionally spaaking aloud. •' This 13 how they have entered, without a doubt." And as I spoke I turned round quietly, but suddenly, and once more I thought r biw that triumphent gleam in the eyes of Mr. Upcott. R turning into tho vault again, I eaid, as if I really couldn't help it : " You seem fond of jewellry, Mr. Upcott ?" " Ya-es," he hesitated, but after a start. " Beautiful studs thesa of yours " " Well, rather." " Uncommon pattern ?" " They were made to order." " More than one set ?" "No, not for me." "Anyone missing?" " I think not," he faltered. "Ivndlylook." " What is the meaning of this questionicg ?" asked Mr. Barnett, sternly. " It meau3, sir," I replied, almost dramatically—l remornbsr after all those yeara— " is means that this ttud fell a few moments bro from tha sleeve of the mutdsred mac, Munro I" acd I held up the bU of gold. " Good heavens J" cried Mr. Upcotl;, striking his brow with one baud, and holding ths other over his breast as if to ward eff examination or search. I '-Ba kind enough to unboiton your waiai- '■ coat, sir," I proceeded; anc! please avoid excitement." Slowly but surely he unbuttoned his vess, and to my utter amazement and disgust hrn set of studs was found complete, After a pause I resumed : "May I aek why you appeared so ov:i1 come when I a3ked you to unbotton your waistcoat ?" j "Because," he replied. " I thought I mighi , have dropped one by accident." "Do you know anyone who had similai ! studs?"' "Vis— one other." "His name?" " Oar late cashier, Bufu3 Stellar." " Ilia address ?' "He lived ia Gray's Inn, but left for America last Wednesday." " Are you sure of that ?" '• Ila came here to bid us ' G jod-bye.' " " Any reason to suspeat him ?" II Oa.no I" " My duty, gantlamen, oompslled me to aei as I have done," I explained ; '• you in'js* excuse me. It is my duty to fiad when Mr. Siellar left town, and which way he went en route for America. Give me hia address is. Gray's Inn, and I have no doubt I'll trap him yet, ere he crosses the Atlantic." Mr. It if us Stellar had been living in rathe? comfonable chambers at the top of a hous« in South square, Gray's Inn. He had been called to tno bar, and being briefless, some relitions prevailed upon Mr. Barnelt to takg him into hia bank. His salary was t«ro hundred and fiftr pounds as cashier, but is was believed that he possessed a small privasa J income. ' I questioned his Jaundresa, and found thai '■ he return d to his rooms late on lliursday night. Tae robbery nad b-tn committed between Thursday night and Friday morning. After much reluct ince, Mr. Upeott gave ma ' a pjrtrait of the gentleman, aud by its aid I traced hicn to Euston station where ha got into the half-paat seven train for Liverpool. I telegraphed his description, to the Datectiva Department, D-ile-street, Liverpool, and took the next train myself. On arriving there, I was told that no such person alighted from the train mentioned. I concluded that he had got out at Chester, with a view of getting on by some other means to Birkenhead and aboard the Cunarfi liner— the only steamer that sailed that Saturday morning. I had men stationed at all tha ijrriea on the Cheshire side of the water, and went on board the Atlantic liner at an early hour next morning, to be ready to receive him. He came fioio Liverpool, after all. He had got out at Manchester, and spent tne night with some friends. I arrested him before hisiuggage was moved out of the wherry, and took him up to town with me ; and I viH confesp, even now, that I never felt so uuset by any oaptura I ever made. f±* was ■ splendid fellow, bore no malice, and kept me in good humor all the way, telling me witty Btoriea, and humming longs now and then.

eeITG3, and co had no one "to disturb U9. *„' thick I said a dozen timea on that journey to myself, " I wish it was that other fallow, Up* cott." When I thought him guilty, I fairly gloried in tha thought of putting- the darbies on him. ?_ Well, the trial cama c8 } but I mvs J nra* tell you that, as^ soon as ha was looked npj wo examined his luggage, and found in bis jawel-boi the haart-and-harrow Bet ot fttudd* otinus one. In his purse v?e found fourteett marked sovereigns, snd ho had paid twenty* two eimilarly marked coins to the Ounard Company. Wnen Mr, Upoofcb wag ia tha witness* box at the trial, the counsel tot the de» fence asksd him how much money tha prisoner had saved while in the employ ol the bank. " About two hundred and fifty pounds," ha replied. "Aud he drew that out?" "Oa the Wednesday before the robbery." "Did ho not call on the Thursday morning, while you were alone in the bank, and Ret forty sovereigns in exohsnge for four tenpound notes?' " Nothing of the kind." 11 You swear that ? ' "I swear it." " That will do." Tho prisoner had in hia possession nearly three hundred and fifty pounds, and hia counsel explained that besides the two hundred and fifty pounds left in the bank, he always kept a goodly cum at home. The jury, however, would not believe it, and bo Eufus Stellar waa found guilty of burglary and attempt to murder, and sentenced — this waa before 1850 -to transportation for ttjOm He walked out of the dock smiling, and I could not lock at him. My eye 3 fell oa Upeott, and he looked then the guiltier of the two. The strangest part of this case has to come. Mr. Upcott married the girl both he and Stellar had been courting, and in the course of time he wag made a partner in the bank. Twen-y five years after the sentence he died a landed proprietor, and the bearer of a title. During the same twenty-five years, Rufoa Stellar became a millionaire in Australia, and one of the leading men in hie colony and city. He, too, married, and had children ; in fact, he had ever} thing the world contained at hi 3 command, but the permission to visit dear old England. Ah, there's lots like him in the colonies— good men and true I He sent hi 3 eldest son to Oxford, and two daughters to boarding echools at Brightop. The latter fell iIJ, and were given over for incurable; only, it was said, two or three months would pass before the end. The son wrote to the father, and the bravo fellow came home in spite of the law. He was rcoognised in the Strand by a rascally loafing Englishman, whose passage he had paid home from Melbourne gome yeara before. This cowardly scoundrel communicated with the Home Office, and, after considerable delay, I was sent to Brighton to see Mr. Stellar out of the country or arrest hies. A comrade was cent with me, and as tha train waa crowded, we were compelled to enter a compartment where we could not emoka. A young lady in deep mourning sat beside the far window reading. I was bo angry about the iniquitous job I was on that I blurted out to my comrade pretty well the whole etory, mentioning names and mos particulars. At the Brighten otation my friend said : «' I suppose you're in no hurry over this job ?" " Not I," said I. " Lst'a have dinner first I never felt bo much in want of Dutch courage in my life." A sob caught my ear. Turning round, we saw the young lady in black stepping into a cab by our Bide. It was dusk before we went to Mr. Stellar'u hottl. When I aaked for him I was surprised to hear that we were expeoted. A3 soon as I entered the fine room in which he had been dining, he came forward, as fine a looking man of tifcy-fivo as ever I have yet seer. " So you'vo come to arrest me !" he said. " Or see you out of the country, worse luck," was my reply. " Well, I am ready to go," he returned ; " but I am glad to say it won't be for long. You noticed the lady who travelled in tha train with you. She was bearing the confefl* sion of the really guilty party" " And I'll bet a thousand pounds to a penny that was the old banker, Upcott." " You are familiar with the case then?'' " It was I who arrested you in Liverpool," I replied. " Give me your hand," he said ; and I took it and shook it as I never before or einoa have shaken a man's hand. The lady had gone up to the Home Offioe ■with the confession ehe had brought to him. Of course I was compelled to accompany him to Cakis that night ; but many days did not elapse before I knew that tho Queen's pardon — pardon to an innocent man — had been extended to him. Upcott had been bettinghad stolen money, and was compelled to oonvict some one else. The Biud he had picked up in Stellar's chambers, and he had given forty— marked— sovereigns in the legitimate way of change to the late cashier that Thursday, and it was he himself who did all the breaking in. The old watchman lived many years, but never recovered sanity. Mr. Barnett pensioned him liberally. The young lady in black was Sir Gabriel Upcott'a onJy daughter, and she is now the happy wife of tbe son 0! the msn who waa cleared by — "The Strange Confessions of a Banker.

Eagley : "" Ha, Gagley, Equaring np ac« counta for tha year?" Gagley (gloomily) : " Yea." • ! Hope you come out well." " Well, I've put tea thousand into the < bank." " That isn't so bad. I don't see why yog Bhould look co glum." 11 Don't eh? Why, confand it, I've drawn out over thirteen thousand." " What is capillary attraction, my clear 7'*^ Baid Mrs. Sharpshins. " Why, it's when a girl is trying to mash the only eon of a weaUhy man." •' How is that, dear ?" exclaimed Mrs. Sharpahins. " Why, because she is attracted by on« heir (hair)."