RIVIERA POLICE BAFFLED BY “LADY CROOKS”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXVI, Issue 18438, 23 March 1922, Page 8

RIVIERA POLICE BAFFLED BY “LADY CROOKS”

That the gigantic jewel thefts that have baffled the police of the Riviera are the work of clever female amateurs of good social standing is the belief of Sterling Helig, an English writer, who has been making a study of conditions in Cannes, Nice, and Monte Carlo, and who relates his experiences as follows: In the vast lide of travel to and from the Mediterranean resorts, the following “Doni’s,” are widely published, warning visitors—who have been carrying more money and jewels, the present season, than was ever before known:

“Don’t go away from your railway or section leaving valuables in a bag. Don’t carry your pocket-book, containing money or papers of value, in your breast pocket. “Don’t carry railroad tickets with, your money so that anyone can see where you keep the latter when tickets are called for. “Don’t leave your bags unattended anywhere.

“Don’t forget that notwithstanding all the efforts of the French railway companies and police, first class Riviera trains are used, on occasion, by well dressed members of a clever international gang of thieves.” In every great hotel along the Silver Short there is a new sign inside the room by every bedroom door:

“Notice—Security—Bolt your door at night!” Yet the losses have continued, especially in hotels, villas, balls and casinos. The sensational jewellery robberies of the season exceed a total value of 25 million francs. THE WORK OF AMATEURS. Put a pin in the figure. In Paris, the great city, the year 1920 has eeu called “a year of robberies.” The figures are just out. “Counting thefts of money, jewels, stocks, bonds, etc., the year’s losses amounted to 25 million francs. Of 25,027 people arrested, 4,033 were foreigners.”

You see, in this Riviera seoson of three months, when arrest have been few, convictions nil, and practically nothing recovered, a greater total has been lifted than all the professional criminals got out of Paris in a year.

By whom? Who did it? Why, young women amateurs and undetected new beginners. Such is the astonishing conclusion to which the best, police in the world have come. Had professionals alone been guilty, they would know it. Professionals leave a trace, especially these days of passports and team work between the police of cities. Here, there is nothing to take hold of. It is scattered work of unknown parties, undistinguishable from their victims. It is not the heavy touch of men, but the elegant hand of—the born lady! Why should not ladies turn crooks, in the temptations of these gambling cities? Look at the white hands against the green cloth of the roulette and baccarat tables. Eliminate the bodies at the elbow. Picture the coffin shaped table surrounded by a hundred beautiful, clutching hands. SET A FAST PACE. Read the local papers. I quote from the past two weeks: From the Claireur de Nice: “An American woman lost 12,000 francs at Monte Carla. She managed to get as far as Lyons, where she arrived without money to continue her railway travel or for a hotel or food. She was unsuccessful in trying to cash a cheque but managed to induce the United Statas consul at Lyons to endorse it. Later, tile cheque, proving to be bad, he felt obliged to make a complaint against her. From the Cannes Daily Mail: “The mild excitement of playing la boule (a kind ol roulette with nine numbers) is very popular among English women visitors to the Casino, who hover around the tables in rows two or three deep, trying to win enough to pay for their ‘five o’clock.'

“Quite extraordinary runs of numbers have been witnessed lately. I saw a man playing the 9, which won twelve times in succession; and the same afternoon a woman won eight times consecutively on the 5. “A few days later an American woman, playing her first game of baccarat at the Municipal Casino of Cannes, came away winner of 55,000 francs.”

Observe the succession. From boule, at whose popular stakes you can lose, at most, only a few hundred dollars a sitting, they promote themselves to baccarat, where you can win tens of thousands. The third step is to make up for losses when no cash remains to stake you. A case that has made immense sensation is thus quoted by the Paris Herald:

“According to an agency telegram from Cannes, Mrs , wife of the well-known tennis player, has been arrested and charged with stealing a pocketbook which is said to have contained 5000 francs.

“For several months past, it is alleged, thefts of pocket-books have taken place on the courses at Cannes. The police found it difficult to carry out their investigations, owing to the fact that most of the people concerned were prominent British society folk. Eventually, however, a trap was laid, and the detective kept watch, disguised as gardeners.

Mrs is 35 years of age, and has done much enertaining on the Riviera. Her husband is the eldest son of Sir Francis , M.P., and is one of the most famous tennis players England has produced. In the year , he was chosen to represent Cambridge against Oxford.” JEWEL STEALING THE FINAL STEP. The final step is to go in for jewels, in a businesslike way. Of course, there is perplexity, trembling and loss when, as so often happens, a girl goes in “on her lonesome” and sells, one piece at a time, to the advertising “diamond brokers” and “jewellery offices” which swarm in these gambling cities, “paying the highest prices” to visitors who have “gone broke” at the tables. The only safe way is to “work” with some honest man who knows an honest “fence” to buy them. Of course, the honest man is no professional. He never stole a pin, nor wouldn’t. It is admitted, on all sides, that “there is a new category of woman jewel thieves, who haunt the best hotels and restaurants by Day and by night.” The London Express sees it from Nice:

"They are often partners of swell mobsmen, and tbeir beautiful gowns have come out of the pockets of wealthy men who have been fleeced at cards, etc. They sit in hotel dining rooms and casinos with eyes alert for wearers of the finest gems. “They mark down their victim and wait and wait for a favourable opportunity. They may wait a day, a week or a month, for they know the virtue of patience. At last! The victim is in a crowd; she is leaving the theatre hurriedly; she is squeezed in the press by women acquaintances of the hotel and others. Or at home, in tne hotel, she is careless about locking up her jewels. Of mornings, she chats, iu her peignor, in the next-door suite, without even verifying that her maid remains to hold the fort. Of afternoons there is a going and coming of admiring acquaintances—or the jewel owner is vain, and jewels bestow neither sense nor discretion. Whenever the opportunity comes it is seized by the iady thief." NO DIFFICULTY IN DISPOSING OF PLUNDER. The Daily Mail takes up the theme: "Women thieves have little difficulty in turning stolen stones into money. They have found their market, and have only to keep open their communications with the receiver. There has lately been a great increase In the number of such women thieves; and jewel owners cannot exercise tco much care—particularly to avoid talking about their jewels in a loud tone of ovice.” All this is clear, says my friend

Durot of the police of Nice, but “where are they, where do they come come, and where do they go to?” “I know what a 'Hotel Rat’ is," says Durot. “She is a lady in a slippery black rubber suit, skin tight, who operates al night and makes no noise. She can get into your room and take your money and jewels while you sleep. But the ‘Rat’ is a professional. She travels with a ‘he Rat’ to open any door that exists and assist in her getaway. We know most of the high class ‘Rats.’ It is a difficult profession. Where are they? Even the ‘Scheintod pistole,’ shooting a combination of three German gases, was found on a nonprofessional, a Dutch gentleman, travelling with an authentic lady; and, apart from its profession, we have been unable to lay anything to them!” So, the answer dawned on him slowly. “It isn’t ‘Rats,’ ” ho says, “its Mice! Once again, as in the field of sport, the amateurs have beaten the professionals to it. They are amateur young lady crooks. They don’t need to pick locked doors in rubber suits. They are acquainted with their victims. They do ‘Rats’ work in full daylight.” THE STARTING-POINT TO CRIME. It begin-, with bridge rather than with baccarat. If you could see them play bridge in the big hotels, you would understand how the most diverse are drawn together, the rich, lonely and silly meet the broke, lively and skilful. When it comes to skill, it is not impossible for a bright girl to become more or less able to recognise "squeezed” high cards by the small lump, in dealing them. Of course, it begins with signalling. Young women learn rapidly—when they take flutters at roulette, boule and baccarat and need a surer way to win a stake or pay a hotel bill.

The teachers are men. Not regularly, young men, but fine old fellows with white moustaches, ex-army officers, with wooden legs, or tiredfaced, melancholy chaps who look like business men recuperating their health. The girls learn, anyhow, to “smear the pack.” It is a rough-and-ready trick, sufficient for the foolish rich ladies and the honest men of their familes who are its predestined victims. If you take a card from a new pack, moisten your finger and draw it across the polished back, the mark will remain, even if the cards are played with continuously for a week.

Thus, moral principles are broken down, in an atmosphere of luxury and false ideas of values. When our heroines discover that there is no big, sure money, even in crooked bridge, they are ripe for the major with the wooden leg; and the fine old fellow with the white moustache picks out his mice.

A SERIOUS BOSS BEHIND THEM. He has no use for boys. He lets them go. But what we rightly call nice girls and women of good position, when they start on the jewellifting career, develop nerve, audacity and genius. They have confidence. There is a serious boss behind them, I'uli of wise suggestions and all prudence. They have no bother to sell the jewels. He does all that part, and divides honestly. And when they find money lying loose, they need not fear a trap. The boss will change it. These things ere known, says l Durot ; but it is another thing to prove them. What is there to go on? How shall they accuse a lady living n a Palace hotel? Her money comes in cheques from Paris and London. Is she all the time making acquaintance with women possessing jewels So do al! the other women in the Palace hotels. They are the lonely rich. They cling to a smart young woman, who is amusing. When police suspect, they dare not act.

The police can lay a trap. It will not catch a well backed Mouse. It may, theoretically, catch a lone lady, operating on her own, as in the case at Cannes, but the fact that no jewels have been recovered verifies that women of intelligence, good front and unblemished reputation are hard to trap, so long as they avoid marked money—and that the “diamond offices” of the Riviera (whose business is admittedly to pick up bargains from ruined players v at the tables) are true to their advertisements “all transactions confidential.” The advised Mouse wears gloves. Even the lone lady knows that she had better not leave finger prints. Only poor servants —valets and chambermaids —go leaving their Bertillon autographs all over the furniture. A NEW WAY TO IDENTIFY. Is there anything to go on? Dr. Locard, head of the French police school at Lyons, has made a discovery, the most important since Bertillion established crime detection by finger prints. Not only can a person be traced by the prints of his fingers, but, just as well, by similar prints made by any part of his or body. Any of the pores of the skin leaves unmistakable distinguished marks; and Dr. Locard calls the science “poroscopy.” Yes, truly, you can take pore prints on glass topped dressing tables, marble topped chiffoniers, against white enabelled wood-work, varnished furniture, or even wall-paper—-wherever Mousie may have leaned, for an instant, listening, all excited, before pouncing on the emerald ring and pearl drops. But—wait!—why should it be Mousie? Mignt not any of ten other women guests have lost those pore prints?

You may pin the crime on her, says Durot, if you have nerve to go asking fifty ladies in a Palace Hotel to please let you make prints of their feet, toes, elbows, knees and forearms.