SWINDLER OUTMANOEUVRED.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21233, 14 January 1931, Page 14

SWINDLER OUTMANOEUVRED.

CORNERED IN BEDROOM. This is claimed to be an authentic story by a member of a dominion establishment in London of how he encountered—and got the better of—Michael Dennis Corrigan, the swindler, and adventurer. Corrigan was sentenced at the Old Bailey to five years’ penal servitude for fraudulently converting money entrusted to him for oil shares.

I first heard of Corrigan (says a correspondent of the Sunday Despatch) when a friend of mine said to me:— ' . “I have met a wonderful fellow. He wants £3OO pocket money for a' week. Next week he will be worth tens of thousands and in a month, half a million. Seems incredible, but I have gone into the whole thing, and it is genuine. His name is General Corrigan.”

I pronounced the general to be a crook.

My friend was indignant. He prevailed on me to meet Corrigan and undertook to guarantee the loan asked for. In the end I met the general, who * told me he was working ■ secretly on a big oil concession for his "bosompal,” the President of Mexico. “Your friend tells me that I can get £3OO from you. I’m a very busy man. Shall I write out a receipt?” asked the general impatiently. To which I replied, “ General, I think you are a swindler, but as our friend wants to help you here, is £50.” Unperturbed, and with a grin, Corrigan took' the cheque and said: “ I am too big to. be insulted. I will,send the shares next week. Good morning.” No shares arrived, and I lost sight of him.

Two years later I heard that he was staying at a West End hotel, where he had a suite of rooms, a private secretary, and a valet. I called at 11 a.m. Corrigan was resting, and his secretary could not disturb him.

“ Wake him up,” I urged. “ I have vital news for him.” ~

In 10 minutes Corrigan appeared. “All, my boy,.glad to see you. Come, drink wine with me.”

“General,” said I, “my story is a simple one. I want the £SO you stole from me two years ago.” “I never had £SO from you in my life.” Corrigan was indignant. “Paid by cheque, Corrigan,” I said. “So it was,” agreed Corrigan. “My boy, I hate, cheques. I will pay you £lO now and £4O next week.”

“No, general, £SO now. and.,nothing next week.”

“ Hard fellow. Well, £2O now. and £3O next week.”

I again suggested £SO now and nothing next week. The general became anpoyed. “I will give you nothing now, and nothing next week,” he declared. “In that case, my; dear general,” I said blandly, “we will meet outside Bow Street Police Station at 12 o’clock precisely. I will give you 30 seconds.” The general grinned. With a loud laugh and an approving thump on my back he said, “My boy, you will have the whole of the £SO right. here. I return it with thanks and deepest gratitude.”