The Scheme of Sutcliffe, Swindler

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 17, 28 April 1906, Page 50

The Scheme of Sutcliffe, Swindler

By

William Hamilton Osborne

SUTCLIFFE sat waiting at Stere G’Donnell’s, in the little room behind the bar. Sutcliffe was the man who in Id— sent fifty alleged drummers through the West, and niailyd them from the East cheques certified by his own private • bank"—cheques which they proceeded to ca-.h in hotel offices and lots. The whole thing was manipulated by Sutcliffe and a rubber stamp at this end of the line. He was the man who. a few years later, in IS—. sold many vacant lots in New York city, owned by absentees and non-residents, and gave his deeds backed by the title policy of his own titli guarantee company. This scheme was gigantic. After that they said he was the head of a syndicate of swindlers. But l»e wasn’t. The syndicate consisted of Sutcliffe in the first plaoe. and Sutcliffe’s private stock of fine stationery and notarial and corporate seals. It was one man against the world, and nine times out of ten he won. These are but two instances of the methods he adopted; he had a multitude of ot Iters. He raised his head. A man stood in the doorway. “You're here at last. John Dawson." lie exclaimed. “I’ve been a waitin' for you." The man nodded his head. He looked tired and dusty. “You expected me then.’’ he said. “Yep- Your old man wrote me. Tnd you walk? What, all the way?" The other assented. “Any money, queried Sutcliffe. ‘ “None.’’ said t’ue other, “except just enough io feed on the way. The lawvers got all there was to get.’’ ’ Sutcliffe pulled out a roll of bills and peeled off two. "Take it/’ he said: "a man feels better with money in hrs pocket." “When did he go up State?" he continued. “Who? Father? Two days ago —in the morning.” • Fourteen years’ a b-ng time.” sighed Sutcliffe. "I was in for six. That's long enough for me. With the allowance, though." he continued, "he’ll be out. say. in ten year. Your dad an' I travelled a-team for many a year. an’, say, do you know. I came to him, just as you ve come to me. years ago. An' I said to hint. ’Buck, you stood by me. an' I’ll stand by young -lofen,' an’, by George. John. I will. Now. look-a-here. sittin’ here I've been doin' a lot o' thinkin', an* I want io tell you— ■. But. say, what’s the matter with me? What you want is to eat. Here, it’s been waitin’ for you. Sit down there an’ eat it." he continued, "an’ we’il talk afterward. Not a word now. You eat on* I’ll smoke." The oae ate. the other smoked, in silence. Sutcliffe gazed long and earnestly on the young man’s countenance. He wa- not a bad-looking fellow. Young—about twenty-five. Good square jaw, and a nose that stood out in the air. Good eyes, but a bit too much shrewdness in them. But stamped upon him. though on'y in a -tight degree, v a- that strange, indefinable expression of face and manner that vs- -tamped to an extent much greater upon Sutc’-ffe. ar, I upon all men of that ilk—the innate individuality of erime. “His face i- a fortune to us," thought Sutcliffe. "He’- the very man—the very man. Dawson,” he said aloud, as the other concluded his meal. ‘ I want to tell ■you something—something I’ve been thinking about tor a long time. Now. ~ee here, you’re in this business to stay. I suppose you've about made up your mind to that. la«rd. when I think of your father before ye u, and your grandfather before him! You’re family’s a credit to you. young fellow, let me tell you that.” “Now. look here,” he continued. “I'm Jgoin’ to stake you for all you’re worth,

an’ you’ll find out before I get through just how I'm going to do it. The big thing. Dawson, in our business, as you know, is to get the confidence of the reopie. It’s a great business, but that's the greatest part of it. Once get their cs:*nfidence. and the rest is dead easy. Now. look at me. No man ever saw me dressed up in my life. Rough clothes, rough voice, and rough manner. That’s me. An’ what’s more. I always had a shave the day before yesterday. Why, if I went into a man's office, the first thing he'd think was that I was a tramp. In five minutes he'd begin to understand that I didn’t care much what he thought. Say. in a week that wan'd be pretty sure that I was a millionaire mine-owner or a cattle king from the West. I looked it, I tell you. and acted it. And there wasn’t a time, when I was after big game, that I couldn’t put my hand down in my pants pocket and pull out a roll like this, if necessary. Say, in another week that man'd be runnin’ after me. seekin' my favour, ’stead of me seekin’ his. When I got to that stage of the game, you can place your bottom dollar. Dawson. I could do business with him to my own satisfaction, and have it all my own way. In a couple more weeks or so I had him cleaned out, an’ he knew it. Those were my methods, Dawson, and there wasn't a man before me that ever thought of playing the game as I played it. And tho=e methods—say, where they failed once they won twice. Why. say, yotkve heard about some of them. Look at that Burlingame affair, an’ the way I did yruing Stevenson. You heard o’ them?” He puffed lor a minute or two in silence. "But I tell you. yr-ung John. I’m out of it. They’re on to my methods, and they’re on to me, 'specially since I went up- _ Say. there isn’t a dodge from Maine to Texas where I wouldn’t be spotted—that is. in anything worth while. But, say. there was a time when I would spend as long as a year, or two year even, just lavin’ the foundation to get into a man’s confidence. I did that with old Bently. an’ after all I only got about four thousand out of him. Still it was money. But I been thinkin’ your father an’ me made a mistake. Sometimes we’d make a strike, but never over five figures, and generally only about chree. He laid down his pipe and touched the other on the arm. "What I ought to have done in the past, and what I intend to do in the future, Dawson,” he -aid impressively. “is to deal with nothin’ less than six figures. I’m goin’ to nuske a big strike, or bust, an’ ten to one on it 1 don’t bust, either. Look a here.” He spread some newspaper clippings on the table. "Here’s a fellow got away with over seven hundred thousand dollars—you understand —seven hundred thousand. Here’s another got three hundred and fifty thou-and dollars. Another four hun-lre»i and twenty-five—an’ so they go.

Yon know who the-e fellows are as well a- I do—they’re bank cashiers. But, se< here, did any o’ these fellows actually get away: No, indeed. Here, this fellow was caught—and this —and this. Say. do you think they’d ever catch me with seven hundred thousand? You know they couldn't. And where's the money the-e fellows took? Gone—long before they skipped. They’d been takin’ it in driblets, long before they went. When they come out. they got nothing to show for it. Now. wait a minute. Dawson,” he continued. "What the thing that makes it possible for these fellows to steal and steal and steal for years? What is it ? Why, it’s because they got tha confidence of every mother’, son in tho bank, an’ in the community, and that's what it is. That’s the thing. An’ why don’t they get away with the stuff? I’ll tell you why. It’s because they’re fools, instead of beifig knaves—that’s all. Now, d’ye see what I’m driving at? Put a man like you or me in a position where we’ve got the confidence of everybody—everybody, understand—and, say. when the time mme. to get away with a few hundred thousand, d'ye think they’d get us? But to do that thing a man’s got to make a reputation, an’ it takes years to make ’ Dawson,’’ he said, as he drew his chair nearer, "it’ll be ten years afore your old man gets out. I’m going to sit down an’ wait for him. I got about sixteen thousand saved out o’ that last thing—the one I went up for—an’ I’m goin’ to wait, an’ in the meantime I’m goin’ to put you in Ji place where you can build up a reputation an’ get the confidence of the community, an’ when the old man gbts out, if we can't light out o’ here with six figures, you can count me out. that’s ail. There’s just one place in the whole world we can go then and be safe.” "And that place?" said the younger man. ' t Sutcliffe drew his head down and whispered in his ear. The younger man smote the table with his hand. "Great Scott!” he exclaimed, with a note of intense admiration in his voice. "Great Scott! Sutcliffe. I never thought of that.” "First and foremost. Dawson." said the former, "is there anything agin’ you? Nothing to live down? Is there anythin’ that you been mixed up in?” "Nothing at all,” said Dawson. “The old man kept me out of it until ” "How about education?” interrupted Sutcliffe. “Pretty fair," said the other. “It's good enough. As far as that goes I’ll do all right.” "Then, by Geotge!” exclaimed Sutcliffe "it’s done!” “Now, John Dawson, sit down and listen to me. This is most particular busine-s. Back here across the river is

this here town t>f Monroe. Town ? Say, it's a city, or pretty near it. I know that town from one end to the other, and the devil of it al! is, the town knows me. There’s more money an’ more business in that town for its size than there is in any other town in the United States. Now. TH tel! you what I’m goin’ to do. I’m goin' to stake you to the tune of about five hundred to start with. Yon will go and drop down on that town from nowhere in particular. You're goin’ to start up a small hardware business in a vacant store at No. 41 Main-street. No matter why. I know what I'm about, an’ I know just how to work it. I know who owns the store, but you’ll find out that for yourself. You rent that store for a year and pay him cash three months in advance. You inquire around an’ pick out a good eheap boardin' place, suited to a man without any money to spare. Yowl! want to stock up your store. You’ll go to a man whose name you'll know when you get there. Don’t pay a eent of money except to the owner of the store an’ your landlady. Everything else you get in that town you want to get on credit.’’ "How’ll I work that?” queried the younger man. "T routin’ to that, young fellow. There's just one man there who doesn’t dare to refuse to do me a good turn. I did him one —but that's another story. That's the cashier of the First National. You give him this note. Wait a minute.” He took out a sheet of paper, and wrote. He tossed the pajvtr upon the table. It read:— "han Slyek:—The man who hands yen this is an honest man. When he needs references, give them to him.— Yours, No. 356 N.” "That'll fix it. Deposit your money in his bank. And then——” "But what's the use of asking -redit if I have the money?” protested Dawson. "Confound it. Can't you see that the only way to get a standing in a place is to ask credit ? The man that pays cash can’t get any credit. You order a small bill of goods on thirty days, an’ on the last day, neither sooner nor later, you pay for 'em. You give your not.- for fifty dollars you borrow, and when it's due. not a day sooner or later, pay it back. That's the start. The time comes when you can borrow .five. ten. twenty thousand. on the name you've got. The more money you borrow, the more credit you ask. the better standing you'll have. That’s the ticket. Now here. I knowall about the hardware business, an’ I know just why it’ll go over there, an’ I’ll go over the details of the thing with you to-morrow before you start in. You want sleep—that's what you want. But Dawson, see hero. let me tell you this, now and for all. Never, under any circumstances. be seen with me. Never write me a letter. Never recognise me on the street. Never mention my name. By George, that's vital. We’ve got to play this game accordin' to the cards. When you need money you report to me here. You report here every three months anyway, an' well talk things over. But outside o' that, never have nothin' to do with me one way or the other. And Dawson." he concluded as he rose, "until the time comes, an’ I say the word, don’t forget that honesty's the best policy. This in s Jeep an' wide game we’re goin' to play, an’ you've got to be as honest as rhe day is long. Don't forget it. Dawson: don't forget it.” Dawson turned in and dept for sixteen hours. "This fellow out here," said the salesman to the wholesaler, "wants this small bill of goods on credit. He says he's started up a small place on Mainstreet. What do you think about it?” “Where is her” said the proprietor, getting up and looking through the glass partition. "Ob’ is that the fellow? kooks honest enough. Any references ?” "Only Cassidy, the owner of the plaey. •nd Van Slyek of the First National.” "Call ’em up, then, and I’ll talk to them.’’ "Seems to be all right.” he said after an interval of five minutes. "I guess he can have them. Don’t sell him any more, though, unless vc-u see me about it.” -Of course, nobody Luk the people that Dawson dealt with ever bothered about him. He went on. slowly at first, as was natural. “Yon don’t borrow enough money.'* said Suteliffe, at the end of the first three months, "and buy more goods ou credit.”

“But,” said the younger, “I don't need the money, and I don't want the goods.” "Never you mind,” said Suteliffe. "What you want to do is to borrow. Borrow it and put it in the bank, an' then pay it back. Give your note. Let your paper float around. And people'll begin to know you. That's what you want. But always pay when due. De sure about that. As for goods. I've found a way to create a demand for those. You go an’ see the Mayor, an’ ask him for ?<inie small orders from the town. The man that hell refer you to will give you an order. See if he don't.” Sutcliffe was right. Whenever Dawson saw that man he got the order. The man himself didn’t know- why, but his immediate superior did. Ami Dawson didn’t care why, so long as the demand came in. Five years later .John Dawson stepped into the office. of the president of the First National. "How are you, Alderman:” said the latter cordially. "What can 1 do for you? What is it -now, eh?” "Mr. Breslin,” -slid John Dawson, “I want to enlarge my place over here still more, but t hi- architectural iron business I’ve got takes a good deal of my money. I need just about 13,000d0l for 90 days. The question is. can you let me have it "Dawson, there isn't a man in town that wed sooner lend UjOOOdoi or any amount of money to, than to you. Of course you can have it.” "I didn’t know,” replied Dawson uncertainly. It was the eighth year of the compact between {-uteliffe and Dawson, and in the year of our Lord IS —. It was in the fa!’ of the year, and the town of Monroe was in the throes of a mighty pre-election contest. "Gentlemen —fellow citizens.” shouted the chairman of the meeting in the the ehairmand of the meeting in the Town Hall, "there’s not a man or woman within the sound of my voice—there's not a man or woman in this town that cannot say with me to-night, in all sincerity and truth, with the absolute conviction that he or she is everlastingly right-—there’s not a man or woman that cannot say with me to-night—Honest John Dau sen." "Hooray” yelled the crowd. "Hooray” yelled Suteliffe with the crowd. "I say. is there one?—in the whole wide world is there one such man or woman ?” "No! No! No!” yelled the crowd. And "No! No! No!” yelled Suteliffe. "Ladies and gentlemen,” continued the chairman, "it is my privilege, and I have the honour to introduce to you, rhe citizens of rise old, old town of Monroe—now the glorious new city of Monroe —I introduce to you to-night the man who. by the grace of God. and the votes of the Republican party, shall be and must be the ntxt treasurer of the great city of Monroe. I introduce to you, ladies and gentlemen, the man known here, there, and everywhere, in town an-1 country, as John Dawson, the Honest Man!” "Hi! Hi! Hi! 'Ray! ’Ray! ’Ray!” yelled the crowd. "Three cheers for the Honest Man.” yelled Suteliffe. and panJemenit ra broke loose. "Two snore years.” said Sutcliffe to himself that night. "Two years more. Aid then ” The city of Monroe was upon the top wave of prosperity. It had wakened up from a conservative business town of the old style into a great eity of modern enterprise. New public buildings were being built, public parks were being laid out. bonds were being issued. Enormous sums of money were being poured into the city’s treasury, more than ever before: far beyond the amount of the treasurer's bond. The money was lying there to meet the vast public improvements that were being made. "It’s a good thing.” the people said, ‘that we've got John Dawson in charge of all that pile. He’s honest as the day is long. He’s the right man rn the right place. That's clear!” "Dawson." said Sutcliffe, "in three months' time the old man'll be out. In three months. I’ve got everything—everything, mind, down to the smallest detail—arranged and in order. We'll; leave on a Saturday night for you know where, and Llxatii give ua 36 houis*

start. Hell itself ean't catch us with that start. Now, as far as you're concerned. In three months' time —I’ve estimated that in about three months from now you can lay your hands on sometbing over 250.(W0d01.” “Sutcliffe,” said Dawson, with a grim smile, "in three months from now I can lay bauds on SOO.tK<Odol. and not a cent less.” "By George!” said Sutcliffe with a fierce joy. “By George! we’ve struck it. 1 didn't think you had it in you, Dawson," he said with a glanee of admiration. "Honest, now, I didn't.” Three months later, Sutcliffe, the swindler, sat waiting in the little room behind the bar, al Steve O'Donnell’s. He raised his head. A man stood in the doorway. "Here at last. Honest John Dawson,” he exclaimed. "I've been awaitin’ for you. Come in. Have you got it?” “I have,” said Dawson, as he laid down a bulky package on the table. He remained standing. Suddenly he addressed the other man. "Sutcliffe,” fee said earnestly, "look here. I can’t do this thing. I've got to

luvk out. Tlrere isn’t a man, wtratna, or child in Monroe that doesn’t trust •nc to the end. I know,” be said simply, "that it isn't right er fair to you to take this stand, but, Sutcliffe, you'va taught me to be an hone.t man; you’ve built up a reputation for me, and I ean't go back on it. I can't do it. There's no use. I'd Jo this thing if I coukl, Sutcliffe. but I ean't, so help me God!” The elder man stood silent for am instant; then he stretched cut his hand. “Shake!” he exclaimed. "John Dawson,” he said huskily, "there's more than that to it. and it's just this. You've made an honest man of me. By God, you have!” They stood there for some minute-. Suddenly Suteliffe roused himself. "Say. Dawson, the old man’ll be here in a minute. He’s due here now. What'll we do with him, I wonder.” "We'il have to make an honest man oi him, too.” said Dawson; "that's all there’s left for us to do.” "Lord!” exclaimed Suteliffe with a grim and retrospective smile, "it’ll be a sure enough tough job, but I guess we’ve got to do it, after all.”