Pluck and Luck.

Western Star, Issue 1387, 7 September 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

Pluck and Luck.

A TEUE STORY, The story I am about to relate belongs rather to my personal than to my professional reminiscences. It dates back to a period when my confidence in myself had not been shaken by the experience of a life in which a familiarity with crime under its various and peculiar phases has taught me a lesson which some of us never learn. The position in which I found myself was one in which I should hesitate about allowing myself to be placed to-day, and although, as events proved, my confidence was justified by the result, yet a less selfreliant man would probably have avoided what, after all, proved a very disagreeable souvenir. • It was in the year of the credit mobilier, when the friendly intercourse between France and England in money matters was betokened by the number of financial enterprises in vhich French and English speculators were jointly interested, that a number of gentlemen in the City went into a proj"ot for the purchase of the entire interest of a French joint-stock company, the name of which I do not care to ive here, on account of circumstances which subsequently made it somewhat notorious in the joint-stock world. I was financially interested in the scheme, in a small way only, but a very intimate friend of mine was one of the largest of the proposed investors, and as I represented his interests as well as my own, I was at once placed in a position towards the other members of the syndicate which had been ormed, out of proportion to my individual interest. So it came about that, having some leisure time at my disposal at a season of the year when the Courts were not in session, I was selected not unnaturally as the fittest person to visit Paris in order to complete the negotiations between the parties, which were already practically settled. I was besides, fortunately, a good French scholar. In effect, my mission resolved Itself into the payment of a very large sum of money, half a million sterling, which, when paid, would consummate a bargain already concluded by letter and otherwise between the parties. The Paris banks were at this time in anything but a satisfactory condition, and ' the transmission of a large sum of money by means of a bank-draft was considered unadvisable for more reasons than one. Not only would such a draft run the risk of some financial complication delaying its payment, while the money had to be paid on a certain day in cash, but the negotiation of the drafts in Paris would be known to any who wefe likely to be interested in robbing the messenger to whom it would be intrusted, a possibility which we had necessarily to take into account in settling upon the best and least risky mode of conveying the money to its destination. Hence, the only method which remained was that I should carry the money in person, taking what risk there was, reduced as it would be to a minimum by the fact that no one would know of my errand, or of the contents of my pocket-book, secrecy being enjoined upon all those interested, and the French company being simply notified that the money would be delivered to them by a properly accredited messenger, at a certain time and place already agreed upon. The selection of the way in which I should carry the money being left to me, I gave the subject my most careful consideration, finally deciding upon a plan which should reduce its bulk as far as possible, and enable me to carry it with the least annoyance or notice. I called upon the manager of the Bank of England, •who, at my request, had printed for me f|ve notes of £IOO,OOO each, which would be! of course, of the same value in Paris as gold. I purchased a small note-case,|which justcontainedthem, placed it in the Inside breast-pocket of my coat, and stepppl into the train at Charing „ Cross Station, S%ll satisfied that no one had the faiates&dea I was worth robbing. Still, it behoved sno to take all necessary precautions, resolved to speak to no one on except in the way of ordinary c-JMty—a resolve which I religiously out—and arrived next monirng witb|g||any casualty, and, I felt sure, without SLoting the notice of man, woman, or cblll: We reached a little before eight o’clock, and meeting was fixed for eleven; so I hpljusb time to drive to my hotel—which, Sgain, on account of the unpleasant experience which I had there, through no fault of the proprietors, I shall avoid mentioning by name—breakfast and dress, before proceeding to the place of meeting II There I shoul| deliver up my charge, that little Eussia&i leather case, which, in spite of its insignificant appearance, represented so weighty a responsibility, that I confess to feel»g intensely relieved at the prosprot of raiding myself of it and its contents. :? 4 A room has already been reserved for Monsieur,’ observed the clerk, as I registered my ns<tne at the office. I looked up in Surprise. * Indeed ! To whom am I indebted for the honour ?’ Yes, indeed, ?M. Altassin sent word yesterday that !an apartment should be reserved for the lEuglish gentleman, and his servant, par\exemple, was not easily satisfied with the selection.’ M. Altassia was one of the directors of the French company, and although for the moment I did feel surprised—aod, be it said, a little annhyed at being thus 4 taken in and done foil ’ —still, on reflection, it seemed only natural that the directors should be anxious to show me some civility, and Ml. Altassin was doubtless well aware of tme hotel at which I invariably stopped*when in Paris. But when, after carrying out my original programme to the letter, I presented myself at the hoar appointed at the boardroom, I was more than annoyed, for, to my disgust, I found that it would be impossible for me to execute my commission to-day. The meeting had been postponed until the following day to suit the convenience of certain directors. So there I was in Paris, with half-a-million of money in my pocket and twenty-four hours at least of uncertainty and worry before I could get it off my conscience. It was really most annoying. Annoying—but nothing more. For, to be sure, I could lodge the money in the Bank until the next day. That was the only plan, of course, and I would go to the Baas of France forthwith.

Arrived there, however, a new difficulty presented itself. The Bank declined to take so large a sum of money on deposit for so short a time, and, when pressed, demanded so large an amount for the convenience, that I lost my temper and left the cashier’s room with that note-case still in the pocket of my frock-coat. I have said that I was, n those days, extremely self-reliant, and my interview with the brnk officials had put me on my mettle. Moreover, it would never do to be hawking the money about from bank to bank. That would be to put the thieves, if any such should be on the look-outfor the money, on my track with a vengeance. After all, I was young and strong-armed, and on my guard. I would keep the money myself and take my chance. I dined early and went to bed, without having spoken to a soul. The next morning, however, the same story was repeated. The directors, indeed, met, but with apologies from several of their number, among others the M. Altassin, who was my host, as I have before mentioned, and whom I had not yet had an opportunity of thanking for his civility. Another day’s delay was unavoidable. This time, however, the delay caused me less annoyance. Familiarity breeds contempt, and the presence of the money in my pocket now only gave me something akin to a pleasurable sensation. I felt as though that note-case were almost a companion, and, to sayjthe truth, could not repress a secret satisfaction in the idea that I should have it in my keeping for another day. Besides, it was now quite certain that nobody knew of my having it with me, and I need be under no further apprehension of being watched. So, this evening, I dined at the tabled'hote, and, instead of going at once to my room, smoked my cigar on the piazza of the hotel. No one spoke to me —no one, apparently, noticed my presence. I was of as little importance as the boy who was putting up the shutters of the grocery shop opposite. And yet I carried enough money in my pocket to buy out the hotel and all that it contained. I fell to dreaming of the possibilities wrapped up in that little envelope of Russia leather, and only awoke from my reverie to find a waiter standing at my side, opening a bottle of seltzer-water, and about to fill a glass which stood on the table at my side, with the regulation amount of brandy in it. 4 Will Monsieur pay for this, or shall I charge it to the number of his room ? ’ Had I ordered a braudy-an d-seltzer ? Surely not. I must have been dreaming. Anyhow, it came at the right moment, and I paid for it almost without thinking. I did not recognize the waiter, but there are new faces every day in such an hotel, and I drank my B. and S. with no other misgivings than those which generally accompany the consumption of an unknown brand of spirits. It did taste unusually nasty, even for hotel brandy. What an idiot I was to drink brandy-and-seltzer, at any rate, at night I It is a thing I so seldom do, and surely I did not order it. Did I ?

With some such reflections I sought my rooms. They were situated, bedroom and sitting room—the former approached through the other—at the end of a corridor, and I fancied from the appearance of the rooms right and left, as I went along to them, that those nearest to me were unoccupied. I wondered what made AUassin’s servant select those particular rooms. To be sure, they were very comfortable, but rather lonely, and for a man with so much money! Bah! I am getting drowsy. What absurd fancies to be sure ! My fire has gone out—shall I have it ra-lit, or tumble into bed at once ? I am getting more and more drowsy. Can it be the brandy ? How fail of fancies I am to-night! Let me get into bed at once. My elbows and wrists seem strangely benumbed, and my eyes are growing heavy. Surely, lam not going to be ill ? Perhaps it would be better, after all, to have the fire lit; I am quite chilly. Suppose I ring the bell ? The bell—one of the old-fashionod bellpulls—hung in the other room by the bed. I pulled it sharply, to find the cord and tassel in my hand. I was becoming strangely heavy now, and yet no suspicion of anything wrong had entered my head, when I thought I heard a slight rattle outside the door. I turned sharply at the sound, and as I did so I caught sight of the end of the bell-rope, as it lay at my feet. It had been out through with a knife 1 In a moment the fact dawned upon me that I bad been trapped. The careful selection of the room —the severed bellpull—the brandy-and-seltzer—for I knew now that I was under the influence of a powerful narcotic, and that I had not a moment to lose if I would save my money and, perhaps, my life. I sprang to the door opening into the corridor. As I expected, it was locked. I beat against it feebly, for my hands were fast losing their power.

What to do 1 what to do ! in the few minutes of consciousness that remained to me. With a supreme effort I mastered my thoughts, and bent them upon the situation. To alarm the house was impossible. My voice was almost gone, my strength failing at every moment. I glared round me like a hunted animal. Could I hide the money ? How ? Where ? Would not the thieves search every corner of the apartment if they failed to find it upon me ? I staggered into the inner room, and fell almost fainting upon the bed. A moment more and it would be to late, when my glance fell upon the gilt crown which supported the curtains of the bed at at the top, after the pattern of so many French bedsteads. There was no time to think, to calculate the results of my action. With a convulsive effort I tore the notecase from my breast and flung it upwards. It lodged in the hollow of the crown, and I sank back insensible 1

I awoke to the consciousness that someone was bending over me, and that persons were speaking—speaking about me. * They have given it to him pretty strong this time,” t Ces Angelisl Bah! they have no heads 1 ’ No heads ! I had one of my own, at any rate. What was this singing in my ears, this heavy pain in my eyelids ? No head ! I seemed to be all head. And what had happened to me last night ? Surely I had had a bad dream. Something was wrong—something—something —Heavens ! the money I I half sprang to my feet, to find myself face to face with two gendarmes, imperturbable, grave in the midst of confusion j

for the contents of my portmanteau and dressing case were strewn around, and the drawers of the latter lay empty on the floor. 4 Monsieur has been robbed. If he will do himself the pain to accompany me to the presence of the Prcfot, ’ 4 But,’ I began, half dazed.

4 The Prcfet is waiting, Monsieur.’ I looked at my disordered dress, and explained the necessity for a few minutes’ grace, at least. The imperturbable one reflected and apparently agreed with me. 4 We will await Monsieur in the adjoining chamber, if he will be so good as to avoid disturbing anything in the room in making his toilet.’ Left to myself, the occurrences of last night came back slowly, one by one, and then upon my stunned consciousness there flashed all of a sudden the idea that the money was still safe. With a bound, I was on a chair, but I could not reach the top of the bedstead. A small washhand-stand stood on the other side of the room. I carried it to the side of the bed and climbed on to it. Was the money still there ? Yes ; nestled into thj crown —where it had lain quietly all night amidst the disturbances which must have accompanied the robbers’ search —the little note-ease still lay—laid for a moment only, for, with an exelananation of oy, I seized it, and stood again upon tho floor, with my half-million in my hand. When I rejoined the gendarmes in the sitting-room I was my self again, though my head still throbbed painfully from the effects of the drug. I was about to tell them of my good fortune, but, the moment I opened my mouth, I was met with--4 The Prefet is waiting, Monsieur.’ For a moment 1 felt an Englishman’s natural impulse to express my perfect willingness that he should continue to wait; but my guide had already preceded me to the door, whither I followed him without more ado, leaving the other man in charge of my ransacked apartment. Arrived at the Prefecture, I was at once stopped. 4 Monsieur has been robbed ’

I opened my mouth to speak, but the official continued, without paying any attention to me—- —‘ Of twelve million and a half francs ; is it not so ? ’ I started at his knowledge of the exact amount. ‘ Why, how do you know ? ’ * Pardon, Monsieur ; it is our business to know. We have been aware of your movements everj since your arrival,’ and he turned to a memorandum book. * You left London in the night train last Tuesday, arrived in Paris the following morning, with the sum I have mentioned in a red leather case; have been detained by the failure of your correspondents to complete arrangements for the transfer of the money which you have brought over for the purchase of the Company. You see, I know all, Monsieur, even to the refusal of the Bank of France to accept your deposit. And more than this—l knew you were to be robbed last night,’ * Lid you, indeed !’ I broke in ; ‘ then I think you might at least have had the courtesy to warn me.’ ‘ I did better, Monsieur ; I watched you. You“were in no real danger, for the fellows who were after you are too clever to risk violence.’ ‘ I am sure lam much obliged to you,’ I murmured, “ but I confess I ’ ‘ One thing only troubles me,’ continued the Prefet, as before. ‘We have the thieves safe enough, but as yet I have no trace of'what they have done with the money. However, with your discriptioi d£ the notes—l know also, yo'" 1 . see, that you had special notes struck—l shall have it for you in twenty-four hours.’ I smiled. * And what should you say if I had never parted with it ? ’ The police-officer shrugged his shoulders. ‘ It is impossible, Monsieur.’ ‘ How impossible ? ’ ‘ My men have thoroughly searched your apartment, and even if the thieves had failed to find the money, it could not have escaped them.’ By way of ieply, I took the note-case from my pocket and quietly laid it on the table.

The|rest of the story is told in a few words. The astonishment of the police when I explained the hiding-place of the money was only equalled, I should imagine, by the disgust of the burglars, whom I had the pleasure of seeing sentenced to the Bagnes before I left Paris, for their failure to rob me as they had intended. The money I succeeded in paying over, without any further mishap, and, thanks to the secrecy with which these things are done in Paris, none of the direstors of the French Company ever knew how nearly I had been a defaulter, from ‘ circumstances over which I had no control.’ Neither did I tell my friends in London, until my return, some few weeks later, of my remarkable adventure, and of the excellent service which was rendered me on a certain very trying occasion by the crown of a French bedstead.