romances of our own times.

Otago Witness, Issue 2325, 22 September 1898, Page 60

romances of our own times.

♦ TRUE STORIES FROM REAL LIFE. By A. 0. Tibbits, in Cassell's SaturdayJournal. A PRINCE AMONG FORGERS— JIM | THE PENMAN'S HIDDEN HAND. j The room was a long, low-ceilinged one in Percy street, off the Tottenham Court Road. It was luxuriously furnished. The sound of the wind and rain- outside on this November night in 1853 came through the drawn curtains of the window, and added to the sense of comfort of the place with its numerous lights, its blazing fire, its heavy-cushioned chairs, and its soft carpet. Groups of men were seated around the green cloth tables, and waiters passed to and fro bearing wines and liquors on trays to the card players, who were so intent upon their game that the noise of the storm without went unheeded. The house was a resort of card-sharpers and their victims, and this night the cardroom was frequented by some 20 persons, most of whom were ordinary habitues of the place, the rest " friends " — young fellows with more money than brains, who had been selected as victims to be spoiled. Gold and bank notes were in front of many of the players, wine and beer were on the tables, and the air was thick with smoke. The place was known as one where heavy play was the rule, and many an ancient family of Britain has experienced the effects of its members' visits to it, in the shape of mortgages or sales of ancestral lands to raise money to pay the penalty of a luckless night's play. At one table was a man who, with brandy and water beside him, was poring over his hand of cai'ds. His dark hair was streaked with grey ; his features showed signs of having once been refined, but now bore traces of hard living and were bloated with drink and dissipation. The eyes grey, small, and twinkling, deep set under heavy brows, and the mouth straight and determined. He was short and square in build, and was dressed in dark clothes, with high collar and a carelessly-folded and somewhat soiled light neckerchief. A large gold ring glittered on the little finger of his plump white left hand, and a massive gold Avatjh chain adorned Ms waistcoat. The cards were running against him. He was losing heavily. The small twinkling eyes seemed to retreat further and further below the heavy brows, and the mouth grew set and hard. LiHle did those with whom he was playing imagine the real occupation of their companion, or the means by Avhich he had become possessed of the gold and notes, which his usual bad luck was so quickly transferring from his pockets to theirs. He was known in the gambling house only as a " lawyer, or something of that kind," of rather shady character, and none bothered to- inquire further about a man who possessed one great recommendation to the favour of the place — he was unfortunate at cards and " paid his way like a ; man," as one of those who met him has i recorded. ! James Townshend Saward was a man destined to earn for himself the unenviable reputation of being one of the most remarkable criminals of modern times. Of good family and education, he had been brought up to the profession of the law, and was enrolled as a member of the Inner Temple." His manners were pleasing • he was a man of no mean ability, ai^d he might, perhaps, have gained distinction as a barrister had he chosen to devote himself to honest work; but crime appears 1o have had a fatal fascination for him, and gambling and dissipation brought the pressing necessity for funds to be obtained by any means fair or foul. It is probable that it was in the gambling dens he frequented that he first met I the men with whom he afterwards became associated in villainy, and by whom" he quickly became recognised as a leader by means of his ability and sharp legal knowledge. It was his boast that he had "eyes that could see through a brick wall," and his quick wit was eagerly sought by criminals to aid them in evading the law, in discussing schemes of robbery, and safely-dis-posing of booty. In quiet corners, in unfrequented coffee taverns and public houses, Saward was accustomed to meet the cleverest thieves in London to plan burglaries and robberies of various kinds, or to receive from them the gold or jewels they had secured in order that he might dispose of them to " receivers " with whom he was acquainted. But it was with his pen that Saward showed his most extraordinary talent. , He was a forger of the most remarkable ability in imitating handwritings. A few minutes' study of a signature was enough to enable him to write it with such exactness that) many of his victims, when confronted by their real signatures and Saward's copies,' &m Sfiafele Jo s&£ yhish were geauipe..

*

When asked how he acquired this facility Saward declared he did not know, but he supposed " knack and a bit of practice" accounted for it. Anyway, " Jim the Penman," as he was called by his friends, possessed a terrible power, which he exercised to the dismay of all England. The London bariks were panic-stricken. Day by day cheques were handed in to them, and the money paid to the bearers, only for the banks to siibsequenlly find that the customers whose names the cheques bore disclaimed all knowledge of them. Cashiers examined cheques presented to tlem with microscopes, and compared the signatures most minutely ; descriptions of the men who had presented cheques found to be forged were circulated from bank to bank, while detectives waited at the bank doors and keenly scrutinised all who came and went. Still, week by week brought its tale of forged cheques, and the stream of gold rolled on unchecked into the pockets of the 1 clever scoundrels, to capture whom the hands of the police quivered with impotent rage. Merchants, professional men, tradesmen, .visited the bank to complain of " the laxity of management " which rendered the passing of the cheques possible, and were confounded when they were requested to distinguish for themselves the forged signatures from the genuine ; managers of banks Lad unfortunate cashiers brought before them and reprimanded them for being gulled by forgeries, which in the end they .•were themselves forced lo confess no human skill could detect; bank directors complained of the police, and declared that thex-e must be some conspiracy, that they must be in league with the perpetrators 'of the frauds and share in the booty secured. Still the forged cheques came in — for small sums, for large sums, as was suited to the financial position of the persons whose names figured upon them, and the criminals were as far from detection as ever. Bank cashiers perspired at the sight of an unfamiliar person, presenting a cheque ; commercial London could not sleep for anxiety as to whom the next day's victims might be. Meanwhile the cheques were all forged by Jim the Penman, and passed by innocent tools under the sujiervision of a young accomplice — one Henry Attwell — a certain Thomas Salt Hardwick — a tall, gentlemanly, white-haired personage of refined a^nearance, but in reality a returned convict — and a man named Anderson. Their method was simple. Having obtained, by hook or by crook, the signature of a well-to-do merchant or business man, the next thing was to obtain a cheque book at the bank at which he dealt. Then Saward set to work. A few strokes of his nimble pen and the cheque was ready. The next step was to present it at the bank. Sf<.w«rd's quick brain devised a menns of getting this, the most dangerous part of the ■work, done with almost absolute security to himself and his accomplices. Anderson had ,a peculiar knack of disguise. A wig and a different coat from that he usually wore, and he was another ' person. The newspapers were perused by the gang in search of persons who wanted situations, and in reply to an advertisement a letter was sent requesting the advertiser to meet a gentleman, who thought he might suit him, at a certain roffp.p-h.ouse or in a private room at a puonchouse. When he arrived he was met by tne disguised Anderson, who, as the first duty the applicant had to perform sent him to cash a cheque for him. Innocent of the errand in which he was really engaged, the new emploype set off, shadowed, unknown to himself, by the irre-proachable-looking Hardwick and the sharp-eyed Attwell. As he entered the bank Hardwick entered too, apparently to make some innocent inquiry of one of the bank clerks, but in reality all eyes and ears to discover what would barmen. If the money was handed over, well and good, but if suspicion was aroused and the messenger was detained, Hardwick slipped out and gave a sign to Attwell, who at once bore the news to Anderson. When the unfortunate bearer of the cheque had explained all he knew and detectives arrived at the coffee house where Anderson should be, that gentleman had, of course, disappeared, and, minus wig and his disguise dress, had been transformed to all , outward seeming into another person. In one year the gang succeeded in passing no fewer than 117 forged chenues. But villainy, even of the cleverest description, succeeds only for a short season, " and they reaped their reward at last. Attwell and Hardwick having been sent by Saward to Yarmouth in order to obtain the signatures of some solicitors in that town for the purpose of forging in their names, an accidental circumstance led to the suspicions of the police being aroused, and the two were arrested. Upon Attwell's lodgings being searched, papers were found which so completely associated him and Hardwick with the mysterious London forgeries that both he and his companion were tried, and, being found guilty, were sentenced to penal servitude for life. It seems to have occurred to both these worthies at almost the same time that Saward, their companion in crime, might as ■well be their companion in its penalties, and the authorities were soon informed of the part "Jim the Penman" had played in Jheir schemes. Armed with a full description of him, the detectives s?t to work to hunt him down. But it was not such an easy task. He changed his lodgings almost daily. Even 'Attwell and . Hardwick could only tell his most favourite haunts, and Saward, seeming to scent danger, had withdrawn himself from the places he usually frequented. At length, on December 26, 1856, two detectives visited a public-house in the neighbourhood of Oxford street to make inquiries. While doing so one of them saw a door leading into the bar softly open. A while face appeared. The deep set eyes looked furtively around, and, noting strangers, the face was quickly withdrawn. ■Before the door could be shut, however, the detective had dashed in and seized the terrorstricken man he found. "Your name is Saward, I believe?" he jfcsked. "No, Hopkins," returned the stranger. v l &ffig reason to. feelicve otherwise," aei>

sisted the officer, and events proved him to be correct, for Saward it was. At his and Anderson's trial, which commenced at the Central Crhraiial Court on March 4, 1857, Attwell and Hardwick came forward as witnesses for the Crown and told all they knew, Hardwick producing a list of no fewer than ten men who had been associated with "Jim the Penman," and who had been sentenced to penal servitude for crimes of which he had been the instigator. .Four of these had received sentences of penal servitude for life, two of 20 years, and two of 10. It is an extraordinary fact that, in spite of all the wealth obtain'M by his forgeries, '' Jim the Penman " was found so poor Avhen placed in the dock that he had not the money to fee a barrister for his defence All the sums which he had obtained had been lost at the gaming table or spent in reckless living. He received the sentence he so well deserved— penal servitude for life.