THE RIGHT HONORABLE SIR SIDNEY WATERLOW, Lord Mayor of London in 1873, in official costume.THE RIGHT HONORABLE SIR SIDNEY WATERLOW, Lord Mayor of London in 1873, in official costume.
I had arranged that I would send all the money I obtained to the Queen's Hotel, London, by post at the earliest possible moment after receiving it, that in the event of any accident to myself the money should be safe.
After receiving the money I inclosed it in a large envelope, addressing it to the hotel in London. I also wrote on the envelope: "Echantillons de papier" (i. e., samples of paper), after which I threw it into the postoffice.
As I wished to reduce the risk as much as possible (the train for Marseilles not leaving for three hours), I took a carriage and told the driver to take me toward the next station on the way to that city. After we were fairly out in the country I got outside and sat with the driver, chatting with him about the country we were driving through, arriving in the village about half an hour before the train from Bordeaux was due. I dismissed my driver at a small village cabaret (tavern), walked to the station, got aboard the train, and early the next morning was in Marseilles. I breakfasted at the Hotel d'Europe, and looked over the papers to see if the Bordeaux fraud had been discovered. As I could see no indication of it, about 10 a.m. I took a carriage and went to call on Messrs. Brune & Co.
On making myself known I was, as usual, received with the utmost courtesy, began to talk business, and one of the firm got into my carriage and rode with me to his bank to effect the sale of my draft on London for the sum of £2,500. Arriving at the bank I took a seat in the front office, while Mr. Brune went into the manager's room to introduce the transaction; the clerks eyed me, as I thought, suspiciously, but doubtless only curiously, because they perceived I was a foreigner. Another thing which I noticed sent a shiverthrough me. After Mr. Brune had been a few minutes in the manager's room, the bank porter stepped to the outer door, closed and locked it. It being but 12 o'clock, I imagined the precautionary measure must be due to my presence. "The Bordeaux affair is discovered and has been telegraphed all over France," was my first thought; "all is over with me. I am a candidate for a French prison, sure."
These and a thousand other thoughts flashed through my mind during the quarter of an hour preceding Mr. Brune's reappearance with his hands full of bank notes. I could hardly believe my eyes. I had suppressed all signs of the internal hurricane which raged during those prolonged moments of suspense.
Now the revulsion of feeling was so great that I nearly fainted. However, by a mental effort, I recovered my self-possession and effectually masked all inward convulsions.
Mr. Brune placed in my hands 62,000 francs, in notes of the Bank of France, and we then descended to the carriage and drove to my hotel, where we parted. I paid my bill, and at once made preparations to start for Lyons, which was to be the next and last scene of my operations in France.
As my train did not leave for three hours, I got into a carriage at some distance from the hotel and was driven toward the next station, located on the beautiful bay a few miles from Marseilles.
After driving along the shore of the bay for some miles I remember we met two women, dressed in the quaint costume common to that part of the country, each carrying a basket of eggs. I stopped the carriage and endeavored to enter into conversation with the pair, but could not understand a word of their patois. I then took a couple of eggs, handed out a silver franc piece, and drove on, leaving two astonished women standing in the road, gazing alternately at the piece of money and at the back of my carriage. Arriving at the station I found it would be an hour and a half totrain time, and driving to a hotel on the shore I ordered dinner to be served in the upper room of a two-story tower overlooking the bay, with Marseilles in the distance. After dining I strolled along the beach, looking at some queer fish not found north of the Mediterranean, their colors vying in brilliancy with the plumage of tropical birds. Returning to the station I took a ticket for Lyons, stopping off at Arles about sunset, as I wished to see the amphitheatre and other relics of the Roman occupation.
I remained in Arles till midnight, then took the train, arriving in Lyons at 9 the next morning. Repairing to the Hotel de Lyons I had breakfast, and on looking over the papers became satisfied that as yet no discovery had been made. Therefore, I resolved to carry out my third and last financial enterprise and then return to London with all speed.
I called a carriage and drove at once to the establishment of Messrs. Coudert & Co. I sat near the desk, conversing with the head of the firm, and opened a dispatch I sent from Arles, and, after reading, handed it to him, saying: "I see that I shall have use for 60,000 francs, and must ask you to cash a draft on my letter of credit for that amount." He immediately stepped to the safe, took out a bundle of 1,000 franc notes, and counting out sixty, gave them to me.
As it was almost certain that the Bordeaux fraud would soon be discovered, I determined, now that my risky work was completed, to attempt an immediate escape from France by way of Paris and Calais. I did not, therefore, take the train direct from Lyons to Paris, but engaged a carriage and drove back to a junction toward Marseilles. Here I took a train which intersects further to the northward with another road leading through Lyons to Paris. After going the roundabout route above described, I was back at the Lyons station at 9 p.m. in a train bound for Paris, where I arrived without further incident.
The next morning (Sunday) as I left the railway station I thought detectives were watching me, but, in all probability, it was only the imagination of a guilty conscience. I was then wearing a full beard, and as a precautionary measure I, that morning, had all shaved off save the mustache. Not daring to leave Paris on the through express, which started at 3 o'clock p.m., nor to purchase a ticket to either Calais or London direct, I went to the station and took the noon accommodation train, which went no further toward Calais than Arras, a town some thirty miles from Paris. I arrived there about 1 p.m.
As it would be a couple of hours before the express train was due, I went to a small hotel and ordered dinner. To while away the time I took a stroll through the main street, where were many mothers and nurses with children, nice black-eyed French babies. As I was always a devoted lover of children and other small creatures, I stepped into a shop and bought a package of confectionery, which I distributed among the little ones and their smiling nurses, receiving therefor, almost invariably, the grateful exclamation, "Merci, Monsieur!" I gave some to children 8 and 10 years old, a crowd of whom soon gathered about me. Perceiving that I was attracting too much attention, it was clear that I must get rid of my young friends as soon as possible, or the police might also be attracted, and their presence would lead to unpleasant results in case the frauds had been discovered and inquiry was being made for an Englishman. Purchasing a second supply of candies I hastily gave them out, and with a "Restez ici, mes enfants," I passed through them and continued my walk up the street. Quite a number followed at a respectable distance, and I was cogitating how to double on them when I came to the gateway of the town cemetery, through which I hastily entered. The children remained outside and watched me as I walked up the slope and disappeared. At the rear of the cemetery I observed an oldman at work in the adjoining field. I climbed upon the stone wall, which instantly crumbled away, and I was landed on the old Frenchman's domain without leave, amidst a pile of stones. Startled by the racket, he looked up from his digging, and, seeing a stranger uprising from the ruins of the fence, began consigning him to "le diable," with a volley of vigorous French expletives delivered in peasant patois. I listened to him, much amused for a moment, and then held up a five-franc piece. As soon as he beheld it a wondrous change came over him. He eagerly seized the silver and straightway showed me to a lane which led almost directly to the railway station. I purchased a ticket for Calais and took the Sunday afternoon express, and here I am.
OLD EDINBURGH STREET.OLD EDINBURGH STREET.
After we saw George off to Paris on the train Mac and I walked up and down the platform outside of the station, star-gazing. Mac, with his brilliant scholarship, elegant speech, logical force and fiery enthusiasm, made a most fascinating companion.
The study of mankind is man, the old proverb says, but like many other proverbs there is a full measure of unreality in it. It takes a good amount of arrogance and conceit for one to fancy he is going to study and understand men. No man can understand himself, and by no amount of experience or study will he ever come to understand that subtle thing he calls his mind or understand the motives that sway him.
I only wish one of those scientists who amuse themselves by pretending to study and understand human minds and motives could have sat in Mac's brain that night, have thought his thoughts and heard his speech, while remaining ignorant of our history and mission. Mac's mind was a storehouse of erudition, his memory a picture gallery, whose chambers were gilded and decorated with many a glowing canvas. As a child he was familiar with the Bible, the Old Testament particularly, and, improbable as it seems, was still a diligent student of Holy Writ. His mind was completely saturated with Bible imagery, yet there we were with ourpockets full of forged documents walking up and down that platform star-gazing, while he talked with intelligent enthusiasm of those silver flowers in the darkened sky, of stellar space, how in its infinity it proved the presence of Deity. That with him there was no great and no little. That a thought sweeping across the God-given mind of an infant was as wonderful and as much an evidence of power as the millioned arch of radiant suns in the milky way. While speeding through Belgium on our way to the Rhine, he continued until the sun shone upon the horizon. It was something to stir one's enthusiasm to see his sublime faith in the mighty destiny of man, and to listen to him tell of the dignity and grace of every human soul and his sure faith that all would be garnered in the mighty plains of heaven, and he meant and felt it all; yes, meant all he said, believed all he said, believed that he himself was a potent factor in the Divine economy, and, furthermore, believed it behooved every man to do all things, to be all things good and true, yet on this Sunday morning we were fast speeding to the scene of our contemplated schemes, and with light hearts looked forward to a speedy return to London, fairly well laden with plunder.
We talked the whole night through, or rather Mac talked and I listened, and it was a treat to be a listener, he being the speaker.
A period was put to his oration by the train stopping at Luxemburg, we being summoned to breakfast.
On resuming our journey we took a nap, and when we awoke we found ourselves nearing the Rhine; about noon we arrived at Cologne, and going to Uhlrich platz, drank a bottle of Tokay in a famous wine cellar there, then hurrying back to the station we traveled across the sandy plain that stretches from near the Prussian border to the capital. We arrived soon after dark, and Mac went at once to the Hotel Lion de Paris and registered. I waited across the street in the shadow of the Empress Palace. Mac soon came out,and we went to dine in a large cafe. We enjoyed the novelty of the scene, and were never tired of marveling over the all-predominant militarism. Soldiers everywhere, all with good lungs and loud voices. We spent the evening seeing the town; at midnight we parted to meet and breakfast together at the cafe at 8. I then went to an obscure hotel and soon was in the land of dreams. In the morning I awoke with an anxious feeling, and found myself wishing it were night. At 8, the appointed time, I met Mac. He may possibly have felt some anxiety; if so, it was invisible.
When an honest man makes a mistake he has not only sympathy, but can always pick himself up again. With a rogue a mistake may easily be and almost always is fatal. We feared the unseen and the unexpected. Above all, our imagination magnified the danger while tormenting us with needless fears. In Germany the banks open at 9 o'clock, and we knew they would receive soon after 8 the letter we had deposited in the mail in London. We decided that it would be best for Mac to enter the banker's at five minutes after 9. We had discovered the night before the location of the firm. During breakfast Mac went carefully through his pockets, taking out every scrap of paper and turning everything over to me; then taking out from among the others in our bag the letters of credit and introduction we made our last scrutiny of them. We had not settled upon the amount he should ask for, but agreed that it should not in any case be less than 25,000 gulden ($10,000). If everything seemed favorable then Mac was to use his own judgment and demand any sum under 100,000 gulden ($40,000). His letter of credit was for £10,000, and we did not want to leave it behind. Of course, if we drew any less sum than the amount the credit called for, the sum we drew would be indorsed on the letter, and it would be returned to Mac and be instantly destroyed. So with the documents in his pockets and giving me a smile, out he went, and I followed after, keepinghim in sight, and very anxious I was. We were on Unter den Linden. Walking one square and turning to the left half a block away were the bankers—Hebrew, by the way. I saw Mac saunter up the steps and disappear from view. Outside of America money transactions are carried on with the utmost deliberation; to an American with exasperating slowness; so I thought it possible he might remain invisible for a whole half-hour, and a long half-hour it would be to me. In order to have my anxiety shortened by even a half minute we had arranged that when he came out if he had the money he was to stroke his beard as a signal. If it was all right, but delayed, he was to put his handkerchief to his face, but if everything was wrong he was to clasp his hands across his breast for a moment.
"BOYS, THAT IS THE SOFTEST MARK IN THE WORLD."—Page 145."BOYS, THAT IS THE SOFTEST MARK IN THE WORLD."—Page145
In that event I was to keep a lookout to see if he was followed; if so, I was to give him a signal, when he would go straight to his hotel—in passing through would dispose of his tall hat, and put on the soft hat he had in his pocket—then pass out the back entrance and hasten to a certain hat shop, where I would meet him, and take a cab to a little town six miles away, called Juterbock, where all trains going south, west and east stopped. While driving out, we would settle on some plan; but this emergency did not arise. I had stationed myself in a little shop across the street, and from that vantage ground was watching for Mac's reappearance, and just as I had settled myself for a weary watch out he came, smiling and stroking his beard. A moment's glance satisfied me he was not followed. I hastened after, and, coming up with him as he turned the corner, he merely said 2,600 pounds ($13,000). It seemed too good to be true, and I said: "I don't believe you." He replied: "It is all right, my boy; here it is," at the same time thrusting a big package containing gulden notes into my hand. We instantly separated, I hastening to different but near-by brokers' offices, buying for nearly the full amount French bank notes andgold. We went straight to the hatter's and bought one of those broad-brimmed German student hats, which, when he had placed it on his head, put on a pair of spectacles and parted his flowing beard in the middle, made such a transformation in his appearance that I myself would have passed him unrecognized. In the mean time I had picked out a cabdriver, a stupid-looking, conservative-appearing old fellow, and engaged him to drive "mich und meinen freund nach Juterbock." So we entered the cab, an open one-horse affair, and started for that town. Our next objective point was Munich, but as the train did not leave until noon we preferred to spend the time in a pleasant drive, and at the same time make assurance of our escape doubly sure. Around Berlin the country is flat and uninteresting. Our driver was a crabbed old fellow, but we managed to extract some amusement out of him.
What pleased us greatly was to see him from time to time take out from under his seat a loaf of black bread and cut off a slice for himself and one for his horse, and then, seeing we were in no hurry, he would get down, and, walking beside the horse, would feed him and himself at the same time. When we arrived at Juterbock we had an hour to spare, so we drove to an inn, and ordering a bottle of Hochheimer for ourselves and beer and pretzels for our driver, we passed the time pleasantly. In the mean time we had touched a match to the letter of credit, and at train time we went by separate routes to the depot. Each purchased his own ticket; to Nuremberg mine was, his to some near-by city, and at 12.30 we boarded the train and were off for Munich and more profit there on the morrow.
Late at night we arrived, and after locating the bank we went to a theatre, where a variety show was going on, and found the performances good; quite up, in fact, to similar exhibitions here. When the house closed we separated for the night, each going to a different hotel. Our plan was tosecure all the cash we could in Munich in time to take a train that left for Leipsic a little before 10 o'clock, arriving there soon after 1, in time to visit the Leipsic bank the same day; then leaving the city that night we would be in Frankfort early on Wednesday. We would then make all haste to escape from Germany to the shelter of mighty London.
Tuesday morning at 7 we met at a restaurant, as agreed, and soon had over again our Berlin experience; but the amount we obtained here was only 12,000 gulden (£1,000), Mac thinking it best to ask for a small sum, Munich not being much of a commercial city. In cashing his credit, although the amount was in gulden, the bank paid him in New Saxon thalers, the thaler being 70 cents. We did not like the new thaler notes, and wanted to change them there, but there was no time if we were to catch the 10 o'clock train. I had Mac's derby hat in a box, and in three minutes he had the hat and spectacles on, and, with his beard again parted, the transformation was complete, and he, a perfect picture of the dreamy German student, sauntered down to the depot and bought his ticket for Leipsic. I followed him, carrying all the cash and documents in my bag. We arrived at Leipsic soon after dinner. Times were brisk, with plenty of bustle there, for the great Leipsic fair was in full blast. Here was an opportunity missed; we ought to have had three or four letters to as many banks. The place was thronged and the banks were paying out and receiving money in thousands. On the train I had sat apart from Mac, but in the same compartment, which was filled. Arriving at Leipsic he left the train, and, walking up the street, entered a wine room, where I joined him. He scrutinized his letters carefully, and, placing them in his pocket, in five minutes was in the bank. Seeing the bank was full of customers, instead of remaining outside to watch, I entered and stood among the crowd, anxious, of course, but letting nothing escape.
Instead of waiting or trying to transact his business witha subordinate, Mac demanded to see the head of the firm. He was received at once, and upon the production of his letters was treated with the utmost consideration. He asked for 50,000 gulden ($20,000), which was given him at once. The amount for fair time at Leipsic was not large. In a very short time the business was done. The money being paid in gulden notes, it made a pretty big bundle. As agreed upon, he went direct to the cafe, carrying the money, while I stopped at a broker's office and bought French money, notes and gold, for my new Saxon thalers. There the transformation scene was re-enacted, but we could not leave town until 5 o'clock. We spent the time visiting the famous fair. Leipsic overflowed with the fair. It was fair on the brain with every one. This annual fair has been a yearly feature of the old city for four centuries, and draws to it people from all over the European world, even from furthest Russia. Soon after 5 o'clock we were on the train, but, for some reason which I now forget, we did not arrive until 10 o'clock the next day at Frankfort.
Frankfort, the home and still the fortress of the Rothschilds.
In Frankfort the Bourse opens at 10 a.m., and closes at 2. During those hours the bankers are to be found on the Exchange only, and not at their offices. Many of the offices are then deserted and fast locked. It proved to be the case with the firm to which our letters were addressed, and if we were to do any business in Frankfort we had of necessity to wait until 2 p.m., but as it was now Wednesday and the third day since our affair in Berlin, the first draft drawn on London, if promptly mailed, would probably have been delivered at the Union Bank this morning. Of course, as soon as the manager of the foreign department found a draft for a large sum drawn by a stranger and made payable to their correspondent in Berlin, he would at once surmise that a fraud had been committed and undoubtedly would send a telegram to Germany to that effect. The forgery once known in Berlin, the rumor of it, with a thousand exaggerations, might easily fly to every Bourse in Europe, and I feared that by 2 o'clock the story might possibly become known on the Frankfort Exchange. So far we had $43,000, the result of our two days' operations, but we had from the first great hopes of Frankfort, chiefly because it was the money centre of the Continent, therefore the bankers were used to handling large sums of money, and so long as everything was all right they would hand out any sum, however large. We really ought to have taken in Frankfort first. Had we done so, we probably would have left the town with $50,000.
Soon as we arrived we went to a cafe, and, leaving Mac there and all the money and papers in the bag, I hastened to the bankers, hoping to find them open and ready for business. In that case I should have talked business—that is, about having letters of credit, etc.—and I could probably have told by their actions if any rumors of our transaction of the two preceding days had reached the city. Had this been so the bankers would have betrayed it by their looks and questions, and would have been anxious to see my credits. Had such questions been asked, I would have simply said that my letters of credit had not yet arrived from Paris. This would have, of course, thrown them off the track, and given us time to move off.
But when I arrived I found the doors locked. I at once returned to Mac and said: "We are through; let us catch the train for Cologne at once." He was anxious to wait until 4 o'clock and make a dash. We both knew the Germans were slow, and might not think of using the telegraph, and we agreed that we had more than an even chance of success; but Mac said: "My boy, you are my manager, and I leave it for you to decide." Then I said we were through, and that he should take no more chances; so we settled it right there,in the little French-German cafe, and taking out all the letters and every scrap of paper we destroyed them.
This decision, of course, brought a great relief—for the strain had been greater than either of us had been willing to confess to the other. So, easy in mind, we ordered lunch. Of course, we would have no news of George until we met in London. We had no anxiety about him; we felt certain he would come out all right. While waiting for the train we discussed the future, and took it for granted that he would secure as much as we had done. We counted ourselves possessors of $90,000. Of this, fully $10,000 would go to our three honest detectives in New York; we would spend about another $10,000, leaving us about $23,000 each. Making this calculation, we sat down, and with the cash safe in our hands we began planning for the future. Did we say: "Now we have a sum of money ample to start us in an honest business, and, as we have promised, we will quit?" Nothing of the kind; we simply ignored our many promises and resolutions. Our ideas had grown with our success, and we felt poor; so we quickly came to the conclusion that it was the part of wisdom, since we were already so far in, to secure $100,000 each, and then to call a halt; so there in Frankfort, in the very hour of our success, we found ourselves planning new schemes, and further down the Primrose Way.
Soon after the noon hour the train started, but first I took Mac's tall hat to the hatter's and left it to be ironed, this, of course, to get rid of it, and leave no trace behind; then, returning to the cafe, we started. I fell behind and we made our way separately to the depot. Mac had absolutely nothing about him save $2,000 in French paper and gold. I had over $40,000 in notes and some gold in my bag. He bought a ticket for Amsterdam, and I one for Belgium, both taking us through Cologne. I saw him safe into a car, while I sauntered carelessly up and down the station, swinging my bag and staring at everything; as the train was about to startI entered another carriage. The railway from Frankfort to Cologne follows the river bank for the entire distance. We quickly passed Bingen, Mayence, Coblenz, and about dusk reached Cologne. This is an important junction, and here we had to change cars, having twenty minutes to wait. Both of us went direct to the cathedral. It is close to the station, and there we had a few minutes' talk. Here Mac threw away his ticket to Amsterdam and I gave him mine to Brussels. We agreed to take separate cars at the station, but at the first stopping place I was to join him in his compartment, for we had before us an all-night ride to Ostend (the rival port to Calais), where we would embark for Dover. At the depot I purchased a ticket to London via Ostend. We left Cologne all right, and at the first station out I alighted and joined him.
We had a pleasant all-night journey, arriving very early the next morning at Ostend. How lovely the sea looked, with the morning sun shining on its restless waves!
We got to Dover without accident, and two hours after the express landed us in London, and we drove at once to our appointed rendezvous, the Terminus Hotel, London Bridge. We had no news of George, but that evening, opening the door in response to a loud knock, he walked in, receiving a boisterous welcome.
The next morning we all drove to Hampton Court, the creation of Wolsey, and when tired we went to the Star and Garter. There we talked over matters, and came to the conclusion we must have a hundred thousand apiece before we could afford to settle down at home.
We resolved to send off the "percentage" to Irving & Company, and to pay all debts we were owing at home.
Mac's heart went out to his father. He longed for a reconciliation, and he determined to send him $10,000 and so make good the money his father had given him to establish himself in New York, at the same time write the old gentleman he had made a big strike in a cotton speculation, in order to explain his having so large a sum to spare.
Our accounts were pretty well mixed up, and I hit upon a novel way to settle them and give each of us an equal start. My proposal was that we should pool everything. To put every dollar we had in the world on the table then and there, and let the firm assume all obligations, purely personal as they were, save only the Irving "percentage," and pay them from the general fund, then divide the balance. This was agreed to, and the queerest balance sheet ever made out was soon ready.
"THREE OR FOUR SHOTS RANG OUT, OUR TRAIN WAS OFF THE TRACK."—Page 281."THREE OR FOUR SHOTS RANG OUT, OUR TRAIN WAS OFF THE TRACK."—Page281.
We all had planned certain gifts and presents to friends in America, a considerable sum in the aggregate; all the cost of this was assumed by the firm. The main item was $10,000to the New York police. When the balances were finally struck nearly $30,000 had disappeared from our cash capital, but on the whole it was a good plan. It drew us all closer together, consequently increased our faith in each other and at the same time prevented all chances of future dispute. This matter settled, we determined to have a little recreation by taking a tour in Italy. After studying guide books and routes we resolved to take a steamer from Southampton to Naples, spend a few days there in seeing the town and visiting Pompeii, etc., then north to Rome.
We had made considerable preparation for our tour, when a circumstance arose that not only changed our plans, but in the sequel changed our lives as well.
We had been paying another visit to Hampton Court, and in place of dining at the Star and Garter we returned by boat on the Thames and dined at Cannon Street Hotel. Before going to the hotel we took a stroll down Lombard street, and, arriving at the intersection of streets opposite the Bank of England, we came to a halt. While watching the human whirlpool in that centre of throbbing life, I turned to my friends, and, pointing to the Bank of England, said: "Boys, you may depend upon it, there is the softest spot in the world, and we could hit the bank for a million as easy as rolling off a log." No response was made at the time, and the casual remark was apparently forgotten. Well for us if it had been.
The next day we went for a drive to Windsor, and were to dine at a famous old roadside inn. On arriving we, of course, visited the castle, and, while viewing the decorations in the stately throne room, Mac stopped us with the remark that something I had said the day before had been sticking in his mind. He went on to say that we wanted a hundred thousand apiece in order to return home in good shape; that the Bank of England had plenty to spare, and it was well for the lightning to strike where the balances were heavy. The bank would never miss the money, and he firmly believedthe whole directorate of the fossil institution was permeated with the dry rot of centuries. The managers were convinced that their banking system was impregnable, and, as a consequence, it would fall an easy victim, provided, as we suspected, the bank was really managed by hereditary officials.
Here was a picture, indeed. Three American adventurers, two of them barely past their majority, standing in the throne room of Windsor Castle, and plotting to strike a blow at the money bags of the Bank of England!
The idea grew on us rapidly. After dinner we sat in the twilight of that old inn and discussed the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street from a point of view from which she had probably never been discussed before. I can imagine with what scorn the idiotically puffed and bepuffed magnates of the bank would have regarded us had they known of our discussion.
They afterwards boasted to me, as they had boasted for a century, that their system was perfect, and as a proof that it was so they widely proclaimed they had not changed it in a hundred years. They had proclaimed so loudly and so long its absolute invulnerability that they not only believed it themselves, but all the world had come to believe it as well. "Safe as the bank" was a proverb everywhere underlying the English tongue.
In our discussion we speedily came to the conclusion that any system of finance unchanged in detail for a century, belief in the perfection of which was an article of faith not alone with the officials charged with its management, but with the people of England at large, must, in the very nature of the case, lie wide open to the attack of any man bold enough to doubt its impregnability and resolute to attack.
What a figment of the imagination this boasted impregnability of the Bank of England was the sequel will show. And as for those masters of finance, those earthly Joves of the financial world who sat serene above the clouds, "theGovernor and Company of the Bank of England," they soon had the whole money world shaking with laughter when they stood revealed the Simple Simons they proved to be.
We wanted a hundred thousand apiece now, and had resolved to get it from the Bank of England. Such was our confidence that we never thought failure possible. Truly, if there ever was a plan laid in ignorant enthusiasm this was one. Here we were, absolutely without any knowledge of the inner workings of the institution, strangers in London, being under assumed names, without business of any kind, and not only unable to give any references, but unable to stand any investigation.
Exactly how we were to manipulate the bank we did not know. We were inclined, now we had some fifty thousand dollars capital, to avoid so serious a thing as forgery, but had an idea for one of us to obtain in some way an introduction to the bank and to use all the money of the party to establish a credit. In the mean time all were to get in the swim in or around the exchange, and use the one who had the account in the bank for reference for the others. If some good chance offered to go into a straightforward business we could drop forever all thoughts of breaking the law again. This was the theory; in practice, we were almost certain to try on the game we had of late played so successfully.
In conference it was determined an account should be opened with the bank, anyway; after that was done we could decide what use to put it to.
As I had not yet shown up in the previous transactions, I volunteered to go to the front in this; so, telling my two friends to go to the Continent—Italy, if they liked—I would remain in London and manage to get the account started. They took me at my word, and a day or two after sailed from Liverpool to Lisbon, and passed through Portugal to Spain, visiting the chief cities of that country.
I was left alone in London and began prospecting at once,setting all my wits at work to see how I could manage to get an introduction to the bank. I had only $20,000 to start the thing with, as we did not think it policy to risk our entire capital in one place. My first idea was to find some solicitor of standing who kept his account at the Bank of England, to give him a retaining fee of £100 to act as my legal adviser, telling him some fairy tales about establishing a branch firm in London, and engage him, as soon as we started, to devote all his time to our business at a fat salary. But there were many objections to having a lawyer to introduce me, they being wide awake and liable to scrutinize too closely. If one should depart so far from his policy of caution as to introduce a new client he might after the introduction easily notify the bank that I was a stranger to him and perhaps advise them to investigate, and investigation was the one thing I must avoid. Of course, one is supposed to give reference, even if introduced. Although I had no acquaintance with this bank's methods, yet I was confident that all those at the top must be a stupid lot of red-tape sticklers, and I resolved to do my business with them alone. I was pretty sure that the routine of an introduction once well over, so as to give me access to the officials, they could be easily satisfied and made to help on the fraud, in place of being obstacles. The result proved my surmise correct, for such a lot of self-sufficient barnacles no institution in the world was ever burdened with.
The dry rot of officialism permeated the bank through and through; even the bank solicitors, the Messrs. Freshfields, were merely "highly respectable," and sometimes when that term is applied in England it indicates mediocrity. The Freshfields managed to spend four hundred and fifty thousand dollars of the bank's money in our prosecution. That fact alone would have ruined the reputation of any law firm in America, but the ring of toadies who control that close corporation called the Benchers of the Inn was loud in itspraise of this firm for the extreme ability shown in working up the case for the bank.
I finally made up my mind to find some old established shopkeeper who kept an account at the bank, and secure an introduction through him.
I determined to carry out the plan at once. The thing was first of all to find my man; so at 2 o'clock that afternoon I stationed myself near the bank to watch depositors coming out and then follow them. Four out of five depositors when they take money to the bank come out examining their passbooks. That afternoon I followed several; of these I selected three; one was an optician and electrician, an old-established firm, doing a large business. Another was an East India importing house. The third was Green & Son, tailors.
The next day I went to the optician and purchased an expensive opera glass, and had him engrave on it "To Lady Mary, from Her Friend," and paid him for it with a £100 note; then I went to the East India firm and bought a costly white silk shawl and a lap robe fit for a prince, and looked at a camel's hair shawl at one hundred guineas.
I had brought from America with me a Western hat, and as I had resolved to play the Silver King, I wore it when going around among the tradesmen. The English had, and still have, absurd ideas concerning that desirable article, "The American Silver King." The stage article they take for the genuine, and devoutly believe that the pavements are thick with them in America, all marching around with rolls of thousand-dollar bills in their pockets, which they throw out to bootblacks and bartenders.
Therefore, I resolved to play this role. After my purchase of the shawl and robe, I drove in my brougham up to Green & Son, and entered, smoking a cigar, and with my big hat pulled well down over my eyes. Soon as I saw the elder Green I felt I had my man. Certainly I had hit well, for the firm (fathers and sons) had been depositors in the Bankof England for near a century, and had considerable wealth; but, English fashion, stuck steadily to business. This is a firm of ultra-fashionable tailors, that, like the historic Poole next door, charge for their reputation more than for the fit of their garments.
One of the firm and an attendant flew to wait upon me, but, paying no attention to them, I started on a slow march around the establishment, examining the array of cloths, they following at my heels. I went down one side and returned on the other to the door. Arriving there I halted and, pointing first at one roll of cloth and then another, said: "One suit from this, three suits from that, two from that, a topcoat from that, another from that, another suit from that, one from that. Now, show me some dressing gowns." The first shown was twenty guineas. I instantly said that would do. One may be certain the tailor and his assistant flew around, one to measure and the other to write the measurements of this American sheep that Providence had led astray into their shop. When asked my name and address, I gave F. A. Warren, Golden Cross Hotel, and then, for fear I might forget my name, I made a memorandum of it and placed it in my vest pocket. They bowed me out, evidently greatly impressed with my taciturnity, and especially my big hat, confident also that they had hooked a fortune in a genuine American silver king. I entered the brougham and drove directly to the Golden Cross Hotel, Charing Cross, and there registering "F. A. Warren" and securing a room I left for my hotel. This room at the Golden Cross I kept for a whole year, but never slept there. It was the only address the Bank of England ever had of their distinguished customer, Mr. Frederic Albert Warren.
I did not trouble any more about the other two store people, but looked about the town, amusing myself. In due time I called and tried the garments on, and, when ready to deliver, I left the cash with the hotel people with orders topay the bill, which was done. There the matter rested for ten days, when I drove up again, and, remaining in my carriage, the head of the firm came out to me and I remarked: "I must have more garments; duplicate that order," and drove off.
A week after I called to have them tried on, and then said that as I was going to Ireland for a few days' shooting with Lord Clancarty, I would send down a portmanteau for the garments and call for it on my way from the hotel to the station. So I bought the most expensive trunk I could find and sent it to the tailor. When the day came for me to call I provided myself with six £500 bank notes, five £100 and about fifty £5 notes to go on the bottom of the roll. Before leaving my hotel I had a large trunk put on the cab, and then taking inside of it all the dressing bags, rugs, silk umbrellas and canes in the whole party, I drove to the tailor's, paid my bill with a £500 note and had the portmanteau put on the cab. I turned to go, but, halting at the door, I remarked quite in a casual manner: "By the way, Mr. Green, I have more money than I care to carry loose in my vest pocket to Ireland; I think I will leave it with you." He replied, "Certainly, sir," and as I was pulling the roll out of my vest pocket he said: "How much is it, sir?" "Only £4,000; it may be £5,000;" to which he replied: "Oh, sir, I would be afraid to take charge of so much; let me introduce you to my bank." He ran for his hat, accompanied me to the Bank of England, and, calling one of the sub-managers, introduced me as an American gentleman, Mr. F. A. Warren, who desired to open an account. A check and a pass book were brought and the signature book laid before me for my autograph, and I was requested to sign my name in full, so I christened myself Frederic Albert. I drove to the North Eastern station and telegraphed the boys at Barcelona that the thing was done and they could, if they liked, curtail their excursion and return to England at once.
So the first step had been taken and successfully. We talked of now giving up all further idea of breaking the law, and starting in London as brokers and promoters of stock companies. The plan was for me to take the money of the firm, £10,000, place it all in the Bank of England, and begin to buy and sell stock and keep my money moving in and out of the bank. Then George and Mac were to start an office and launch out as promoters and refer to Mr. Warren of the Bank of England. This would place them on a footing at once, and I would gradually drop out of the Bank of England after introducing George and Mac in their right names. This was a grand plan, and had we only carried it out fortune would have been ours, and honor as well, but we were too impatient of any delay in securing wealth and overconfident of our success and cleverness. Above all, we were anxious to get home again. But I have got somewhat ahead of my story.
Soon after I had a telegram from George and Mac saying that they would arrive in time for a late dinner, and for me to wait and dine with them. At the time I was living at the Grosvenor Hotel, Victoria Station. We had a pleasant meeting and a good dinner to celebrate it. I exhibited my check book, and they were eager to know all details of my interviews, not only at the bank, but with the tailor, and over the wine I related with great spirit the details of the little comedy. I have to this very day a vivid recollection of the shouts of laughter that arose from my companions during the recital. We laughed then, but we did not laugh for the next twenty years, neither did we partake of any sumptuous banquets. In the world of crime success is failure, and perhaps never had the absolute accuracy of that statement been so fully confirmed as in our own lives.
That merriment of ours ended in anguish too deep for words. For twenty years I never looked upon a star, nor saw the face of a woman or of a child; that is to say, from myearly years when the heart beats fast and the blood runs warmly in the veins. That fearful gap of time was filled to the brim with the peltings of a pitiless storm, hungry, driven, toiling like a galley slave under the Summer's burning sun, or thinly clad exposed to every blizzard and all the whirling storms of Winter, until my early manhood had vanished and the best years of my prime were all melted away, and at last I came forth from my dungeon, but with the mark of suffering and desolation burned deep upon me, to face a world of which I could not but be ignorant.