CHAPTER X.
A NINETEENTH CENTURY PRODIGAL.
Let no man who may be tempted to commit a crime ever fancy that if he
takes the first step down hill he will stop until he reaches the bottom.
If one of my readers flatters himself he can go one step, with no more
to follow, on the downward road, let such an one read this story to the
end and then forever abandon such an idea as a fancy born of
inexperience. For this history is as a handwriting on the wall, full of
warning to all and every one who may be tempted to take one step in any
other path than the path of honor.
In 1865 there lived in London a famous Queen's Counsel, Edwin James.
Fame and fortune were his. A born orator, a talented scholar, he rapidly
pushed his way from the very bottom of the legal profession to all but
its topmost height. At 40 he found himself facile princeps of the
English Bar, and public opinion, that potent factor in popular
government, had already singled him out for the high position of
Attorney-General. That secured, only one step remained to place him in
the seat of the Lord Chancellor. Truly, an imperial position--one that
satisfied the proud ambition of a Wolsey and fitted the genius of a
Thomas a Becket. It carries with it the position of keeper of the
conscience of Her Majesty, giving the possessor precedence in all
official functions over the English aristocracy, next to royalty itself.
But about this time dark whispers began to fly about through the clubs
of London. Soon it became known that Edwin James, the Lord Chancellor
to be, was in the toils, and it shortly transpired that, in spite of the
fact that his income from his profession was nearer twenty than ten
thousand pounds per annum, it had proved insufficient and he was heavily
in debt, and worse.
It would seem he was keeping up what in the polite language of society
are known as dual houses. A woman of brilliant beauty presided over one,
and the marvelous beauty of its mistress was only equaled by her
extravagance. He also had a fondness for associating with younger men
than himself, and had got into a particularly fast set of young lords
and army men. At his club he had lost large sums at baccarat and loo,
and, in an unhappy hour for himself and his, he stooped from his high
position and--miserable to think of--committed a crime. This, in the
expectation that he would relieve himself from some of the more crushing
obligations he had heaped upon himself, either through the extravagant
vagaries of his imperious mistress, or by his own rashness in trying his
luck among a lot of titled sharpers. He had among his clients one fast,
even madly extravagant youth, heir of an historic name and of a lordly
estate. To supply his extravagance "my lord" had applied to the money
lenders--those sharks that in London, as elsewhere, fatten on such game.
These gentry were eager to lend the young blood money upon what are
known in English law as post-obits, which loans in this particular case
carried the trifling interest of about 100 per cent. per annum. James
was cognizant of his friend's excursions among the money lenders, and no
doubt he thought the young spendthrift, when he came into his fortune,
would never know within a good many thousands how much he had borrowed,
nor even the number of post-obits he had given.
I will just explain that a post-obit is a form of note or due bill given
by the heir of an estate (usually of an entailed estate), which matures
the moment the drawer of the document enters into that estate. That is
to say, the tender-hearted son discounts his father's death to provide
fuel to feed his flame. So Edwin James, driven to his own destruction,
stooped from his imperial position into what one might call ankle-depth
of crime.
How little he dreamed there was a beyond--a huge, seething sea of crime;
an ocean whose billows are of ink, and which would soon sweep him from
his high place into the black waters, there to be buffeted until, honor
and hope all gone, he would, throwing his hands to heaven, with one
despairing cry, sink into its inky depths, adding one more ruined life
to the millions already engulfed. In that long, sad catalogue of the
dead there is probably not one, who, when taking the first step into
crime, ever thought a second would follow the first.
But to come back to our gilded sir. He made out two post-obits for
L5,000, wrote his client's name at the bottom of each, gave them to the
money lenders, who, never doubting that the prodigal son had signed and
given them to his counsel, made no question, but gave James the money
for them at once. But James had reckoned without his host, for this
nineteenth century prodigal was made of keener metal than he of the
first. Strange to say, and utterly unexpected as it was to all who knew
him and had looked upon his riotous living, he kept his books straight,
and knew to a single guinea how much and to whom he was owing.
His discovery of the forgery was accelerated by the sudden and most
unexpected death of his father, his return home and stepping into his
estate.
The various post-obits were presented and placed before him. He
instantly pronounced the two for five thousand pounds each to be
forgeries, and the crime was easily laid at the door of the Queen's
Counsel. The heir indignantly refused to condone the offense, and,
revealing the fatal secret to a few, within a month it was known in
every clubroom in London. From there it got into the newspapers, and
they, under a thinly disguised alias of a "distinguished member of the
Bar," gave more or less accurate details of the damning truth. His
former client eventually said he would not prosecute the forgery if the
criminal left England; if not, he would immediately go before the Grand
Jury, procure an indictment, and have this man, who had moved a prince
among men, arraigned in the dock at the Old Bailey, there to plead and
stand trial like any common criminal.
And he fled. Of course, like all fugitives from justice throughout the
Old World, he looked to America for a city of refuge, and here he came.
Not to keep my readers too long from the main narrative, it will suffice
to say that soon after his arrival he applied for admission to the Bar
of New York, but first he won to his cause the high-souled Richard
O'Gorman, then a leader of his profession.
It was for Edwin James a lucky stroke, for at this time O'Gorman was in
full possession of his magnificent powers. Few could resist his magic.
His great heart was stirred, and he took up the cause of his friend as
if he had been his brother. The English lawyer's reputation was known to
every member of the Bar of New York, and there had been and still was a
bitter opposition to his admission; but when it became known that their
eloquent leader was his champion, many began to feel that after all "the
poor fellow ought to be given another chance," and when at the next
meeting of the Bar Association O'Gorman in a set oration brought all his
splendid eloquence into play the cause was won.
Great-hearted O'Gorman had helped this lame dog over the stile, but the
dog's heart was not in the right place, and, as my reader will see in
the sequel, he soon went lame again. * * *
* * * * *
In the rear room of a somewhat luxurious range of offices in a building
on Broadway, facing the City Hall, four men were engaged in discussing
what was evidently an exciting topic. The door of the main office bore
the sign "Edwin James, Counselor-at-Law and Register in Bankruptcy." He
was one of the four. He had failed lamentably in his efforts to secure a
practice. The effects of O'Gorman's eloquence had in the gray light of
commonplace day faded away, the more so when the ideal his magic had
created in the minds of men was in hourly contrast with the man himself
and his history. His professional brethren looked upon him with
suspicion, and there was a general impression abroad that his escapades
were not over yet.
He had launched out in his office and home somewhat extravagantly, and
now, once again pressed by clamorous creditors, he had once more drifted
upon the borderlands of crime, and was here with his companions planning
a criminal transaction in order to pay his more pressing debts.
One of these four was Brea, who, with a keen eye to business, had
married the discarded daughter of a wealthy but not over-respectable New
York family, and he had, unsuspected, pulled the wires so that James had
been employed as the family lawyer, and in that capacity had drawn the
will of the mother. She was an imperious, hot-tempered body, one who,
when aroused, was accustomed to use language more vigorous than polite,
and who not infrequently went to fisticuffs with her daughters. The
husband and father, the creator of the fortune, was dead and the vast
family property, in securities, stocks and lands, was vested absolutely
in the mother. In the old lady's will Brea's wife, the second daughter
of the house (there were no sons), was down in the very first paragraph
for the magnificent sum of "one dollar lawful currency," and her name
nowhere else appeared in the lengthy document. The old lady was such a
termagant and so implacable in her hatreds that it was a moral certainty
she would never relent and change her purpose toward her daughter. But
James had also drawn up a second will of his own and Brea's
concoction, and a precious piece of villainy it was, in which the wife
was down for legacies amounting; to $750,000. The genuine will James
kept in his own possession, ready to destroy the very moment word came
that the old lady was an immortal, while the spurious will was kept in
the vaults of the Safety Deposit Company, there to remain until the
death of the testatrix, when, of course, it would in due time be
produced.
[Illustration: BANK OF ENGLAND PARLOR.]
Brea had been introduced to the other three men, and cultivated their
acquaintance in the belief that they would some day be useful to him. He
had a few days before introduced them to James. As a matter of
precaution he had concealed from them all knowledge of the will. At the
same time he gave them a hint that there was something in the wind, but
that some way must be found to secure at once a few thousands, enough
for a year or two, until the good time came when fortune was to lavish
her favors on them all with a liberal hand. But money must be had at
once, for Brea and James were in sore straits, particularly James, who
had been threatened with arrest, and was so far involved that he always
entered and left his house at night in order to escape importunate
creditors. This was James' second interview with the men, and the first
time he had been alone with them. He saw at once that he had to do with
able, clear-headed men, took them into his confidence, and, in order to
excite their hopes and to bind them to him as well, he confided to them
the plot of the forged will, producing the genuine for their inspection.
He assured them that it was a sure and speedy fortune, as the lady was
old and frail in health, and he also promised they should share between
them $100,000, provided they would stand by to give a hand in the
somewhat improbable event of the other heirs disputing the will, but
above all, if they would devise some means to furnish him at once
$10,000, or at least $5,000. Money he must have, and he could no longer
do without it.
The result of our conference in James' office was that the very next day
an office downtown was engaged under a fictitious name, and a simple,
unsuspicious fellow hired as porter and messenger. After some little
negotiation, we obtained particulars of parties banking with the then
great firm of Jay Cooke & Company, corner of Wall and Nassau streets.
Briefly told, the result was that four days later a messenger walked
into their banking house with a check for $20,000, purporting to be
signed by another firm, who banked with them. Along with the check went
a letter bearing a signature well known to the cashier, asking him to
pay the check to bearer. The result of all being that five minutes
thereafter we were walking unconcernedly up Broadway, and sending a
message to James to meet us at Delmonico's, corner of Broadway and
Chambers street, we sat down awaiting his arrival. He had anxiously been
looking for news, and almost before we had seated ourselves he entered,
eager and anxious-looking; but, when he glanced at our faces, a happy
expression came over his own, and without a word he put out his hand.
After a warm greeting, I produced the roll, and, to his delight, I
handed over to James ten five hundreds. On the morrow I went to the
office, and, paying my messenger a week's wages, besides making a small
gift, told him he need not come any more.
With this twenty thousand coup we fondly thought all our troubles and
all our unlawful acts were ended. We now had a few thousands, sufficient
to last until the $5,000 we had invested in the will case should bring
in a dividend that would mean a fortune for us all. So we took things
easy about town, and altogether thought ourselves pretty good fellows,
and this world a very good sort of place to be in.
Thus the Winter passed by and the Summer was at hand. Our thousands of
the year before had dwindled to hundreds, and the old lady whose heirs
we had constituted ourselves seemed to have renewed her youth, and
threatened to outlive us all.
Besides this there had grown up a repugnance in our minds to the
business, and when one day my friend Mac remarked it was a scoundrelly
business to rob the heirs of an estate, and they women, George and I
heartily acquiesced; and we vowed we would take no part in the matter,
and then and there resolved we would throw both James and Brea over, but
first to use Brea and James for our own purposes. Once more we found
ourselves planning a coup in Wall street. Talking the matter over, we
three soon had a plan, and, being dowered with intense energy, it
promised a successful termination. Audaciously enough we determined the
lightning should strike once more in the same place--that is, to make
Jay Cooke & Company again the victims. Irving and his honest fellows
were to co-operate by watching everything, and, if any arrest
threatened, to be on hand to make it themselves; and then let the
prisoner escape. Most important of all, when the bankers drove up in hot
haste to Police Headquarters to give information, James, Honest James,
would be on hand to receive them, would call in his two trustys to get
with him full particulars of the robbery and a description of the men.
Then the bankers would be sent away with assurances that "we know the
men and will have them," but at the same time warning them to keep the
matter a secret in order better to enable them to catch the villains.
If successful, the detectives were to receive 25 per cent. between them.
Our plan required James to play an important part, and, although no
confederacy could be fixed on him, yet he would hardly escape
questioning and a very considerable degree of suspicion, so much so that
it probably would put an end to any lingering remnants of character he
had on hand or in stock. But he was tired of America, and determined to
go to Paris with his share of the plunder. Our visits to James had
always been in his private office, and his clerks had never seen either
of us or Brea.
Our plan was to make use of James' office in a way that will appear
later. As related, he was suspected by his profession, but the general
public thought him a very great man. He had appeared as (volunteer)
counsel in two or three murder cases and had delivered powerful
addresses which had attracted considerable notice in the papers.
One day, soon after our plan was matured, Brea went to Philadelphia,
and, by a mixture of audacity and finesse, procured from Jay Cooke
himself (the parent house of the New York firm of Jay Cooke & Co. was in
Philadelphia) a letter of introduction to the manager of the New York
firm. He wanted the letter ostensibly in order to consult the manager
about certain investments which he, as executor of an estate, desired to
make for his wards.
The transaction was made to appear as one of considerable magnitude, in
which there would be large commissions paid. With the grand send-off of
a letter from Jay Cooke to his subordinate in New York, the speculation
opened well--so well that we at once decided what we would do with the
money when we got it--a case in point for the old proverb. We had
ascertained the name of a Newark manufacturer who had recently failed in
business. I will call him Newman. On the morning after his return from
Philadelphia, Brea presented himself at James' office--it being arranged
that James himself be out, so Brea told the clerk that his name was
Newman, that he had lately failed in business, and intended to employ
Mr. James to put him through the bankruptcy court. The clerk told him to
come again at 12, and he would find Mr. James in. At 12 he came; the
clerk introduced him. James kept the clerk conveniently near, that he
could hear the conversation. Brea, as Newman, told James he had used in
his business $240,000 belonging to his wife and her mother, and that in
scheduling his assets he proposed to use enough to make those amounts
good, intending to conceal the fact from his creditors. He determined to
invest the amount in bonds--so ran his story--and was going to deposit
the money in the bank that very afternoon, at the same time producing
his letter of introduction from Jay Cooke. All of this, of course, being
for the eye and ear of the clerk, who might be required as a witness of
his employer's good faith.
[Illustration: "MAC AND GEORGE WERE WITHOUT, AND WERE STRICKEN WITH
CONSTERNATION, FOR A MINUTE'S OBSERVATION OF THE GATHERING CROWD AND THE
RUSHING INTO THE BANK OF EXCITED PEOPLE CONVINCED THEM SOMETHING UNUSUAL
WAS IN THE WIND, AND THEY KNEW NOYES MUST BE IN DEADLY PERIL. MAC RUSHED
INTO THE BANK IN HOPE "TO WARN OR TO BE OF HELP."--Page 236.]
Brea-Newman also paid James, in presence of the clerk, a retaining fee
of $250, which was privately returned. James banked in Jersey City, and
when Newman said, "Introduce me at your bank, as I want a small credit
handy," James said, "My bank is in Jersey City." The clerk's brother was
paying teller at the Chemical Bank, and, as was expected, he at once
spoke up, saying: "Let me introduce Mr. Newman in the Chemical Bank," so
down went Newman and the clerk, and in ten minutes our man had the
Chemical Bank checkbook in his pocket and $5,000 to his credit in the
bank. The same afternoon he presented his letter of introduction at Jay
Cooke & Co.'s, and was cordially received. He, of course, told a totally
different story there. In this case a relative, lately deceased, had
left him an estate of great value. He was, he said, realizing on his
real estate, and buying bonds as fast as his money came in, and he
wanted to invest a million in various railway bonds. At present he had
$240,000 on hand, which he wanted to invest in Government bonds. He then
left for the time being, leaving a good impression, which his refined
manner and appearance confirmed.
So far all was well; that is, all was well from our point of view. The
next two or three days Brea paid several visits to the Chemical Bank,
getting small checks for $500 and $1,000 certified, and now had his
account drawn down to $1,000. The day before he had called on Jay Cooke
& Co. and told them he would take $240,000 in seven thirties, "Bearer"
bonds, and that he would call the next day and pay for them. At the
same time he got them to give him a proforma bill for them.
The eventful day had come, and James, to get his head clerk out of the
way, sent him to the Admiralty Court to take notes of the evidence in a
case going on there.
At 10 o'clock Brea sent a messenger with a note to the bankers,
requesting them to send the bonds to Edwin James' office, and he would
pay for them on delivery. He could not come himself, as he was in
consultation with the executors of the estate.
In the mean time a check for the full value of the bonds, $240,000, had
been made out. It was drawn on the Chemical Bank, and was, in fact,
similar to those always given between bankers on bond transactions.
Brea had drawn his own check for $240, and had it in his hatband with
the $240,000 dummy check. The plan is palpable enough. When the
messenger brought the bonds Brea, or Newman, was going to say: "All
right, I have the check here; bring the bonds and we will go to the
Chemical Bank and get them to certify my check." Then when at the bank
he would take out both checks, letting the messenger only get a glimpse
of one, and that would be the small $240 one, which Brea would pass in
through the window with a request to have it certified. This would be
done, and when handed out, of course, Brea was to change it and hand the
messenger the big one of home manufacture.
It seemed impossible for the scheme to fail, and success in it meant on
the surface comparative wealth for us all, with, perhaps, in the not
distant future an entrance through the McAllister-guarded portals of the
Four Hundred.
But here we have a vivid instance of how easily an elaborate scheme can
by the merest accident fall to pieces.
The night before the expected coup we met James for a final full-dress
rehearsal for the morrow, and after everything was settled adjourned to
the uptown Delmonico's for supper. It so happened that Detective George
Elder was there. This Elder was a bright fellow, was in a ring--but not
in our ring--and, of course, had his bank account, diamond pin and
turnout for the road. He had had some acquaintance with me, but the rest
of the party were strangers. I did not see him at the time, but it would
seem he was curious, even suspicious, from some scraps of conversation
he overheard. However, neither his curiosity nor suspicion would have
been of any consequence or concern to us had it not been that, in going
out, Brea left on the table with some papers the memorandum or pro forma
bill of the bonds given him the day before by the bankers. Strangely
enough, the body of the bill alone was intact. The heading bearing the
name of the firm and purchaser had been torn off and destroyed.
Elder picked it up and, having some vague suspicions of a plot
somewhere, he determined to go around among the hundred or more bankers
and brokers in and around Wall street and investigate quietly, without
making any report to his superiors, his immediate superior being, of
course, our honest friend, the worthy chief of the detective force, who
was anxiously looking for his percentage of the deal. The whole force
was split up into cliques, each intensely jealous of every other, each
with its own stamping grounds, and each strictly protected his own
preserves.
At 9:30 the next morning Elder started around carrying the fragment of
the memorandum he had picked up from bank to bank and from one broker to
the other. He had spent over an hour making inquiries, and walked into
Jay Cooke & Co.'s office just as the messenger was leaving with the
bonds for James' office. Fifteen minutes more and the game was ours!
Elder produced the memorandum, and they at once recognized it as their
own. Elder asked them if they knew their man and were sure it was all
right. They said it was perfectly right, that Mr. "Newman" had been
introduced by the head of the firm in Philadelphia, and was also a
client of Edwin James; but then it was strange the bill should be
mutilated. Elder averred his belief that a fraud was intended, and
suggested that he and the manager should accompany the messenger with
the bonds. This alarmed the manager, and he directed Elder and the
messenger to await his return. Seizing his hat, he started for James'
office to investigate. James was there, and Brea (the pseudo Newman) was
in the private office with the two checks ready, anxiously awaiting the
arrival of the messenger with the bonds.
Myself and all the other members of our party were nearby, watching and
awaiting developments. The manager, considerably perturbed, entered the
office, and James saw at once the business was a failure, for he knew,
of course, that any suspicion as to good faith would be fatal to the
success of the plot. Brea, hearing the voices and supposing it was the
messenger with the bonds, opened the door of the private office and was
vexed to see the manager, who, shaking him by the hand, told him the
bonds would arrive soon, at the same time saying: "I suppose you will
pay currency for the bonds?" To which Brea replied: "I will go to my
bank with you now and get my check certified for the amount and give it
to you, or leave it until the messenger comes with the bonds."
This offer, along with Brea's coolness, apparently disarmed all
suspicions, and he said: "Oh, all right, the messenger will go to the
bank with you." He left the office, but stopped in the hall for a
moment, then turned and hastily re-entering, said: "By the way, Mr.
Newman, please draw the currency from the bank, and pay the notes to the
messenger upon delivery of the bonds."
So the grand coup had failed, ignominiously failed, and through what
appeared a trivial accident. More such "accidents" at critical periods
will appear before this history is ended.
The dummy check was still in our hands, and was at once destroyed, so,
with nothing to fear, we coolly walked up Broadway to dinner, and talked
of the future over a bottle of wine. At last we fixed upon a definite
plan. Clinking our glasses, we drank to "Eastward, Ho!"
[Illustration: MERCHANTS EXCHANGE, ILLUMINATED.]