SHREWD INSURANCE SWINDLE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 236, 5 October 1935, Page 4 (Supplement)

SHREWD INSURANCE SWINDLE.

SINGLE WORD FRUSTRATES CLEVER SCHEME — A WOMAN’S ACCIDENTAL REMARK — FRENCHMAN’S "DEAD” FRIEND IN ENGLISH VILLAGE — PATHETIC SCENE OF SOLITARY MOURNER AT FUNERAL INSURANCE OFFICIAL’S SUSPICIONS ROUSED—A COFFIN FILLED WITH SCRAP IRON — CLEVER DETECTIVE WORK LAYS BARE NOVEL RUSE.

(By GEORGE BARTON.—AII Rights Reserved.)

One morning of November some years ago, a long piece of dark crepe fluttered from the doorway of a little house on Ann Street in Plaistow, at that time an eastern suburban section of London.

There is always something pathetic about this badge of mourning on a house. But in this particular instance there seemed to be more pathos because the neighbours said the deceased, was a stranger in a strange land, and had passed away without the ministering hands of wife or child. Two weeks .before a Frenchman had come to London looking for a modest home in the outskirts—something rather retired and “not too expensive’’—and he had, been directed to the furnished house in ; question., The secluded little house on Ahn Street suited the prospective tenant; he came to speedy terms with the agent and paid a month’s rent'in advance. The newcomer did not cultivate his neighbours, but came and went in a quiet unobtrusive manner. They came to know him as Monsieur Rubini; though he led a hermit-like life, he was exceedingly sociable when he happened to meet any of them on the street. He was stout and jolly, always laughing, and had that quality known as personal magnetism. One morning Monsieur Rubi'nilct it be known, that he had a visitor' from his native France by the name of Monsieur Vital Douat., Unfortunately the stranger was quite ill. That evening when Monsieur Rubini came to the house to go to the chemist’s he was very gloomy. He said that his guest was worse; The next morning it was- announced that Vital Douat had died from heart disease. Tin* funeral took place- soon afterward, and the neighbours all poked their heads out of the windows to see the . pathetic procession wend its way to the cemetery. While the affair was strictly private it was elaborate in the essentials. There was a splendid hearse with plumes and

other trappings of mourning, and then a single mourners’ carriage. Monsieur Rubini rode in this alone, and for once he was not in a mcryy mood. Sympathetic onlookers declared that he kept his handkerchief to his eyes-and that the tears streamed 1 down his fat cheeks. To Collect £4OOO. That was the London side of the episode. In the course of a few days another phase of it was enacted in Paris. Madame Douat, dressed in deep black,

called at the branch office of a great I insurance company and 'announced that she was there for the purpose of collecting the insurance on her .husband’s life. She was received with the deference which is always shown to those who have met; with a recent bereavement. Madame Douat had not yet recovered from the shock of her. loss, and she was taken into a little receptioii room in order to compose herself and to exhibit the required legal papers. As she talked her eyes filled with unshed tears. What appeared to distress her most of all was the fact that her husband died away from friends and relatives and in a strange land. She produced the policy which called for £4OOO. She gave the officials the certificate of death from the doctor who had attended Monsieur Douat, and also the receipt for the funeral fees from the , English, cemetery in which' her husband had been interred.' \ All of the papers iri the case were ii proper form and she was told that aftei the 'usual preliminaries a cheque for the money would be mailed to h.er. Usually the survivors are so unnerved by the ordeal which is part of; death that they become confused, and. have difficulty’ in gathering the needed documents, but not so Madame Douat; the "head of the,insurance office complimented her .on the fact that her papers were in excellent shape. “Then why not pay me now?” she suggested. “We must comply with the formalities,” was the answer, “and it will require several days to do so.” For the first time a trace of aggressiveness appeared in the manner of Madame Douat. "What further proof do you need of my husband’s death?” she inquired in a haughty tone. Aroused Suspicion. It was an unfortunate remark. No one , in the office had spoken ’about “proof” of j Monsieur Donat’s death —but mention of , it immediately aroused the suspicions } which ( alivays lurk in the minds of those ( who deal in insurance. The annoyed { woman was told politely but firmly that , it was impossible for her to be given the money at once and that the case would ( have to take the usual course pursued by r the company. c As a matter of fact the case took the f unusual course of thorough investigation , of everything connected with the life and , d'?? 1 , on , sleilr Douat. The woman ] U Ivell1 vel1 over her facc and t left the office. She-had hardly gone when f maunies were under way. ( It was discovered that the policy had t taken, out less than a year before ®” d p. tha Ti? n A °’l e V? yment hnd been made ’ on it. That in itself was a matter of some 1 'anguish to the officials. ’ It was learned that Monsieur Douat ' Jived m Bourdeaux, and that the policy had been placed through one of the agents of the company in that city, although the insured had come to Paris in order to put the transaction through.

He personally paid the first . premium and then returned home apparently very much relieved in mind to think that those w.ho were dependent upon him would be protected in the event of his death. His friends intimated that after his return from Paris he neglected his business. At all events it was not many, months before the hitherto prosperous merchant went bankrupt. He made an effort to rehabiliate himself, but without success. Then, according to the testimony, he had a serious talk with his wife. The Departing Husband. “My dear/’- he said, “it is impossible for me to get on my i’eet if I remain in the city where I have lost my money. I shall go to London and look around to see if 1 cannot find an opportunity of going into business there. What it will.be-I cannot say in advance. I shall keep you informed, and if there is any prospect -of success I shall notify you and we will make London our home.”

They parted with evidence of mutual affection and, Madame Douat sat down with as much patien'ce as possible to wait for the news from her husband. But when the news came to her it was the announcement of his death and burial. It was a great shock, said Madame, but she had to face the realities, and so she gathered all of the evidence of the sad event and then went -to the insurance company to collect the insurance. That -was all the information that could bo gathered in France and so far there was nothing, to indicate that everything was not perfectly .legitimate. But that word “proof” so incautiously uttered by the bereaved woman remained in the minds of the insurance officials and they determined not to pay the money until they were perfectly satisfied that all the incidents of Donat's life in London were beyond suspicion.

Where should they go and how should they begin their English investigations? Very sensibly it was decided to place the matter in the hands of the London police. So a call was made on Scotland Yard and all the facts so far as they were known repeated for the benefit of the chief of the bureau of criminal investigation of that organisation. Mysterious Tenant.

Because that case had its foreign angles the chief turned it over to Nathaniel Druscovich, one of the cleverest men on the force. Druscovich dressed like a dandy; he knew several European languages as well as a native and was familiar with crooks of every nationality. He was precisely the man for the job which began .with the fluttering, of the crepe on the door of .the little house on Ann Street. His first move was to. visit the house. He found it was vacant. On front of it was a placard announcing that it could be leased ou advantageous terms. The detective went to the landlord, not to rent it, but. to find out all that he could

about the previous tenant. All the ownei could tell him was that Monsieur Rubin was “stout and jolly.” The landlord repeated that when Rubin:

paid for the first month’s rent in advance he said he desired the house in order to provide quarters for a sick friend he was looking after. That was why he.wanted it in a quiet and retired neighbourhood. From the neighbours the detective learned of the private but elaborate funeral. In the meantime Druscovich went through the papers which had been given ito him by the insurance company and began to run them out in his usual (methodical fashion. The first was . the (death certificate which, bad been. mad>i .out for Douat. The signature on it was very hard to decipher, but by the use of a magnifying glass it was found' to spell “Critti.” Directories and telephone books were consulted. Presently it was discovered that an Italian physician of that name was practising in the lower part of London. The detective went to see him and presented the certificate with his name. He examined it carefully and said the signature was a forgery.

“Moreover,” he said, “I can assure you that I have never had a patient in Plaistow. As a matter of fact, I have never been in Ann Street.” Next Druscovich visited the office of the Bureau of Vital Statistics and. the man in charge recalled the fact that a Signor Rubini had presented a certificate, paid the fees anti arranged for the luneral of Vital Douat on the following Sunday. That was proof conclusive that there was a Monsieur Rubini. It was not difficult to find the funeral director who had conducted the ceremonies. The undertaker recalled the case clearly. He said Rubini had called on him and ■ purchased a large ready-made coffin with an unusually thick lead lining. He was quite fastidious,- was this customer. He had the handles altered and placed on the ends instead of the sides, in order to conform to the French custom. The undertaker had delivered the casket to Ann Street and also provided the crepe that was fastened to the door of the house. Rubini informed him that he personally would attend to the laying out of the body and would see to placing it in the coffin. It was another French custom, he assured the undertaker. He was sure the funeral director would understand • that feeling of delicacy which forbade an alien placing hands on the body of his fellow French"

All Rubini asked was that the undertaker would come there on Sunday morning to take the remains to the cemetery. And so ho did, bringing an elaborate hearse and the single mourning carriage. He furnished the professional pallbearers and had attended to the interment. The only mourner was Monsieur Rubini, who stood in the cold cemetery,' bare-headed, while the body was consigned to the earth. It was rather pathetic, this solitary mourner at the graveside, but such things did happen.

“Didn’t this strike you as rather strange?” asked the detective. “Yes, strange, but not unprecedented. Signor Rubini seemed to be a perfectly respectable person and “Yes, yes,” interrupted Druscovich, “I know all about that, but I want to know if you saw the body placed in the coffin?” “No,” was the frank reply, “when I arrived at the house on the morning of the funeral the coffin had been screwed up and was waiting to be placed in the hearse.” The Search. Druscovich now began to do some very deep thinking. He was filled with a consuming desire to meet this Rubini who had buried a friend without the rites of the church and with such utter lack of formality. Besides if he were .a Frenchman and a compatriot of the dead man why should he be “Signor” Rubini? In any event he determined to make the rounds of the little French restaurants which are so popular’ in certain parts of London. Night after night he dined at these places, eating French foods and consuming large quantities of the native wines which were jocularly called “red ink.” The average Scotland Yard man would have sorely missed his ale and his roast beef, Druscovich was a cosmopolitan and he enjoyed the experience. One night he went into a little place off tho Strand, and in course of a friendly conversation with the waiter learned that a “fat Frenchman” who went by the name of Rubini had patronised the place on a number of occasions, the dates of which coincided with the period of the lease on the little house on Ann Street.

That night the detective drank more than the usual quantity of red wine and gave the waiter an unusually large tip. The effect of this was to make the man loquacious. Would he tell Mr. Druscovich all he knew about Monsieur Rubini? Most assuredly. “Monsieur Rubini,” he declared, “was such a good-natured man —so fat and so jolly. He was full of his jokes and he was so friendly. One night he came in and told me that he was going to play a clever practical joke on one of his old friends; This friend was a fine man, but it seems that he had one serious fault. He would never answer the letters that were sent to him by Monsieur _ Rubini. He said he had not heard from his friend in months and wanted to punish him for being so neglectfid. So he was going to send him a letter saying he was sorry to hear of his death.

“Then he pulled out a form of death certificate which he said he intended to enclose with his letter. He wanted it to have an official look. But it would not do to fill it out- in his own handwriting. So he asked him to fill.it out in my writing. I brought a pen and ink to the table 'and filled it out according to his directions. Then Monsieur Rubini stuck the paper in his pocket and left the restaurant laughing enough to kill himself. He said it would be a rare joke on his friend.” Coffin Removed.

The toils of the law were closing in on someone. The detective hurried to Scotland Yard and told of his discoveries and as a result of the long conference held within the walls of. that famed place it was determined that the grave should be opened and the body of Vital Douat exhumed.

The day appointed was bitterly cold, with lowering clouds. All interests were represented in this post-mortem party. Nathaniel Druscovich was in charge, and with him were other detectives fronvScotland Yard/ representatives of the insurance company, a .physician and several witnesses and the undertaker and two of his men.

Two men with picks and shovels began the work of excavating for the coffin. Presently the pick struck something hard and they knew they were in reach of the coffin. The men, with the aid of ropes, were able to raise it to the surface and place it on the ground next to the grave. The work of opening it began with much expedition. Involuntarily the little circle of spectators crowded closer to get the first view of the corpse that had 'given the police of two countries so much trouble. One glance and they fell back with exclamations of dismay. There was no body in the coffin!

They took a second look at the contents of that box and what they saw caused murmurs of surprise: The coffin was filled to the top with bricks and old metal! Druscovich was the first to grasp the significance of it all, and by degrees it dawned on the others. The whole thing had been a fraud from start. to finish. The mysterious Monsieur Rubini was none other than Vita] Douat, who had superintended his own funeral. • Come to think of- it, he was the “stout and jolly” fellow who had leased the house—who had looked after his “sick friend”—who had induced the waiter in the French restaurant to fill

out the blank form of the death certificate —and who had' purchased the coffin and paid for the funeral. Trapped at Last.

The only thing left was to find this scheming rascal, and that was easier said than done. A man so ' resourceful was not to be captured in a hurry. Descriptions were sent broadcast. The widow declared with mhch vehemence that she did not know anything of his whereabouts. She insisted she was not a party to tho scheme and said that so far as she was aware he had actually died in London. How could she know that bricks and metal had been substituted for a body when she did not hear of his death until after the funeral? Sceptical as they might have felt, the officials were compelled to accept this statement. Finally the report came-that Douat had fled to America when he learned that his well-laid plan had failed. But America is a large country, and it seemed out of the question to search for him there. Then one fine morning came the rumour that he had settled in Antwerp. Detectives were dispatched there and they were told that a man with a French name had been arrested on the charge of being connected with insurance frauds on merchandise • and was then in prison. They asked to see the man and found him in a cell in the local gaol. It was indeed Vital Douat, the “stout and jolly” person who had made history in the little house on Ann Street.

The Belgian authorities consented that he should be taken to France to answer the charge of attempted swindling. The evidence was so conclusive that Douat was convicted almost on sight, and as a consequence of his adventure he was given a long term of penal servitude in that terrible place known as Devil’s Island.