True Stories of Crime From the District Attorney's Office Part 10

The thing, which began in August, 1905, dragged over through the following year and on into 1907. John weathered two examinations by the accountants, the last being in October, 1906, when they certified that the company was absolutely "O.K." and everything intact. On that particular day John had over three hundred thousand dollars in Overland 4s and 5s scattered over the Street.

In the first six months they lost one hundred thousand dollars in cotton. Then they played both sides of the market in stocks and got badly bitten as bears in the temporary bull market in the autumn of 1906, selling Union Pacific at 165, which afterward went to 190, Northern Pacific at 185, which went to 200, etc., etc. Then they shifted their position, became bulls and went long of stock just at the beginning of the present slump. They bought Reading at 118, American Smelters at 126, Pennsylvania at 130, Union at 145, and Northern Pacific at 180. At one time John had five hundred and fifty thousand dollars in bonds out of the vaults.

The thing might have been going on still had it not been for the fact that the antic.i.p.ated merger between John's company and another was put through and a new vault in a new building prepared to receive the securities. Of course, on such an occasion a complete examination would be made of all the securities and there would be practically no chance to deceive the accountants. Moreover, a part of the securities had actually been moved when the worst slump came and they needed more. It was obvious that the jig was up. A few more days and John knew that the gyves would be upon his wrists. Prescott and he took an account of the stock they had lost and went into committee on ways and means. Neither had any desire to run away. Wall Street was the breath of life to them. Prescott said that the best thing to do was to take enough more to "stand off" the company. He cited a case in Boston, where a clerk who was badly "in" was advised by his lawyer to take a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars more. Then the lawyer d.i.c.kered with the bank and brought it to terms. The lawyer got twenty-five thousand dollars, the bank got the rest, and the thief was let go. Prescott said they ought to get away with enough more to make the bank's loss a million. He thought that would make them see what was the wise thing to do. Prescott also said he would try to get a lawyer who could bring some pressure to bear on the officials of the company. It would be a rather unpleasant situation to have brought to the attention of the State Superintendent of Banking. John agreed to get the additional securities and turn them over to Prescott. Unfortunately, almost everything had by this time been moved into the new vault, and all John could get was a stock certificate for fifteen hundred railroad shares, standing in his own name, and seventy-five thousand dollars in notes. These he gave to Prescott, thus increasing the amount stolen from the bank without discovery to between six and seven hundred thousand dollars. This was on the day before the actuaries were to make their investigation. Knowing that his arrest was now only a question of time, John, about eleven o'clock on the following morning, left the trust company for the last time. He was in telephonic communication with Prescott, who, in turn, was in touch with their lawyer. Unfortunately, the president of the company had gone out of town over Sunday, so that again their plans went awry.

For nearly two years John had not known an hour devoid of haunting fear. From a cheerful and contented youth he had become despondent, taciturn and nervous. He was the same affectionate husband and attentive son as before, and his general characteristics remained precisely the same. He was scrupulous to a penny in every other department of his life, and undoubtedly would have felt the same p.r.i.c.ks of conscience had he been guilty of any other act of dishonesty. The affair at the bank was a thing apart. The embezzler of six hundred thousand dollars was not John at all, but a separate personality wearing John's clothes and bearing his name. He perceived clearly the enormity of his offense, but, because he was the same John in every other respect, he had a feeling that somehow the fact that he had done the thing was purely fortuitous-in other words, that the bonds had to be taken, were going to be taken anyway, and that Fate had simply elected him to take them. Surely he had not wanted the bonds-had had no intention of stealing half a million dollars, and, in short, was not the kind of a man who would steal half a million dollars. Each night he tossed, sleepless, till the light stole in through the shutters. At every corner on his way uptown he glanced over his shoulder behind him. The front doorbell never rang that his muscles did not become rigid and his heart almost stop beating. If he went to a theatre or upon an excursion he pa.s.sed the time wondering if the next day he would still be a free man. In short, he paid in full in physical misery and mental anxiety and wretchedness for the real moral obliquity of his crime. The knowledge of this maddened him for what was coming. Yet he realized that he had stolen half a million dollars, and that justice demanded that he should be punished for it.

After leaving the bank John called up Prescott and learned that the plan to adjust matters with the president had miscarried by reason of the latter's absence. The two then met in a saloon, and here it was arranged that John should call up the loan clerk and tell him that something would be found to be wrong at the bank, but that nothing had better be said about it until the following Monday morning, when the president would return. The loan clerk, however, refused to talk with him and hung up the receiver. John had nowhere to go, for he dared not return home, and spent the afternoon until six o'clock riding in street cars and sitting in saloons. At that hour he again communicated with Prescott, who said that he had secured rooms for him and his wife at a certain hotel, where they might stay until matters could be fixed up. John arranged to meet his wife at Forty-second Street with Prescott and conduct her to the hotel. As Fate decreed, the loan clerk came out of the subway at precisely the same time, saw them together and followed them. Meantime a hurry call had been sent for the president, who had returned to the city. John, fully aware that the end had come, went to bed at the hotel, and, for the first time since the day he had taken the bonds two years before, slept soundly. At three the next morning there came a knock at the door. His wife awakened him and John opened it. As he did so a policeman forced his way in, and the loan clerk, who stood in the corridor just behind him, exclaimed theatrically, "Officer, there is your man!"

John is now in prison, serving out the sentence which the court believed it necessary to inflict upon him as a warning to others. Prescott is also serving a term at hard labor-a sentence somewhat longer than John's. The trust company took up their accounts, paid the losses of the luckless pair, and, owing to a rise in prices which came too late to benefit the latter, escaped with the comparatively trifling loss of a little over one hundred thousand dollars. At once every banking house and trust company upon the Street looked to its system of checks upon the honesty of its employees, and took precautions which should have been taken long before. The story was a nine days' wonder. Then Union Pacific dropped twenty points more, the tide of finance closed over the heads of John and Prescott, and they were forgotten.

Had the company, instead of putting itself at the mercy of a thirty-five-dollar-a-week clerk, placed double combinations on the loan and deposit vaults, and employed two men, one to act as a check upon the other, to handle its securities, or had it merely adopted the even simpler expedient of requiring an officer of the company to be present when any securities were to be removed from the vaults, John would probably not now be in jail. It would seem that it would not be a difficult or complicated matter to employ a doorkeeper, who did not have access himself, to stand at the door of the vault and check off all securities removed therefrom or returned thereto. An officer of the bank should personally see that the loans earned up to the cage in the morning were properly returned to the vaults at night and secured with a time lock. Such a precaution would not cost the Stockholders a tenth of one per cent. in dividends.

It is a trite saying that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. But this is as true, in the case of financial inst.i.tutions at least, from the point of view of the employe as of the company. It is an ingenious expedient to insure one's self with a "fidelity corporation" against the possible defalcations of one's servants, and doubtless certain risks can only be covered in some such fashion. These methods are eminently proper so far as they go, but they, unfortunately, do not serve the public purpose of protecting the weak from undue and unnecessary temptation. Banks and trust companies are p.r.o.ne to rely on the fact that most peculations are easily detected and severely punished, but the public interest demands that all business, State, munic.i.p.al and private, should be so conducted that dishonesty may not only be punished, but prevented.

A builder who "took a chance" on the strength of a girder would have small credit in his profession. A good bridge is one which will bear the strain-not only of the pedestrian, but of the elephant. A deluge or an earthquake may occur and the bridge may tumble, but next time it is built stronger and better. Thus science progresses and the public interest is subserved. A driver who overloads his beast is regarded as a fool or a brute. Perhaps such names are too harsh for those who overload the moral backbone of an inexperienced subordinate. Surely the fault is not all on one side. While there are no formulas to calculate the resiliency of human character, we may demand the same prudence on the part of the officers of financial inst.i.tutions as we do from nursemaids, lumbermen and manufacturers of explosives. Though we may have confidence in the rect.i.tude of our fellows, we have no right to ignore the limitations and weaknesses of mankind. It would not outrage the principles of justice if one who placed needless and disproportionate strain upon the morals of another were himself regarded as an accessory to the crime.

VII

The "Duc de Nevers"

"And G.o.d gives to every man The virtue, temper, understanding, taste, That lifts him into life, and lets him fall Just in the niche he was ordained to fill."

-"The Task"-COWPER.

One morning there lay on my desk a note finely written in pencil and dated:

TOMBS PRISON.

MONSIEUR:

Will you be so gracious as to extend to the undersigned the courtesy of a private interview in your office? I have a communication of the highest importance to make to you.

Respectfully,

CHARLES JULIUS FRANCIS DE NEVERS.

Across the street in the courtyard the prisoners were taking their daily exercise. Two by two they marched slowly around the enclosure in the centre of which a small bed of geraniums struggled bravely in mortal combat with the dust and grime of Centre Street. Some of the prisoners walked with heads erect and shoulders thrown back, others slouched along with their arms dangling and their chins resting upon their chests. When one of them failed to keep up with the rest, a keeper, who stood in the shade by a bit of ivy in a corner of the wall, got after him. Somehow the note on the desk did not seem to fit any one of the gentry whom I could see so distinctly from my window. The name, too, did not have the customary Tombs sound-De Nevers? De Nevaire-I repeated it slowly to myself with varying accent. It seemed as though I had known the name before. It carried with it a suggestion of the novels of Stanley J. Weyman, of books on old towns and the chateaux and cathedrals of France. I wondered who the devil Charles Julius Francis de Nevers could be.

Of course, if one answered all the letters one gets from the Tombs it would keep a secretary busy most of the working hours of the day, and if one acceded to all the various requests the prisoners make to interview them personally or to see their fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sweethearts and wives, a prosecutor might as well run an intelligence office and be done with it. But as I re-read the note I began to have a sneaking feeling of curiosity to see what Charles Julius Francis de Nevers looked like, so I departed from the usual rule of my office, rang for a messenger and directed him to ascertain the full name of the prisoner from whom the note had come, the crime with which he was charged, and the date of his incarceration, also to supply me at once with copies of the indictment and the complaint; then I instructed him to have De Nevers brought over as soon as he could be got into shape.

I had almost forgotten that I was expecting a visitor when, a couple of hours later, an undersized deputy-sheriff entered my office and reported that he had a prisoner in his custody for whom I had sent to the Tombs. Glancing up from my desk I saw standing behind his keeper a tall and distinguished-looking man in fashionably cut garments, whose well shaped head and narrow face, thin aquiline nose, and carefully trimmed pointed beard seemed to bespeak somewhat different antecedents from those of the ordinary occupant of a cell in the City Prison. I should have instinctively risen from my chair and offered my aristocratic looking visitor a chair had not the keeper unconsciously brought me to a realization of my true position by remarking:

"Say, Counsellor, I guess while you're talking to his nibs I'll step out into the hall and take a smoke."

"Certainly," said I, glad to be rid of him, "I will be responsible for the-er-prisoner."

Then, as the keeper hesitated in putting his suggestion into execution, I reached into the upper right-hand drawer of my desk, produced two of what are commonly known in the parlance of the Criminal Courts Building as "cigars" and handed them to him.

"Well," said I, after the keeper had departed closing the door behind him and leaving the visitor standing in the middle of the office, "I have sent for you as you requested and shall be glad to hear anything you have to say. Of course any communication which you may see fit to make to me is voluntary and, in the event for your trial for-er-any crime with which you may be charged, may be used against you." I had a certain feeling of embarra.s.sment in making this customary declaration since the whole idea of this person being a criminal was so incongruous as to put a heavy strain on one's credulity. However, I recalled that a certain distinguished Englishman of letters has declared "that there is no essential incongruity between crime and culture." He acknowledged my remark with a slight smile of half-amused deprecation and with a courteous bow took the seat to which I motioned him.

"I wish to thank you," he said in excellent English marked by the slightest possible suggestion of a foreign accent, "for your exceeding courtesy in responding so quickly to my request. I am aware," he added, "that it is unusual for prisoners to seek interviews with the-what shall I say-juge d'instruction, as we call him, but," he added with a smile, "I think you will find that mine is an unusual affair."

I had already begun to think so, and reaching to the upper drawer on the left-hand side of my desk, I produced from the box reserved for judges, prominent members of the bar, borough presidents, commissioners of departments and distinguished foreigners, a Havana of the variety known in our purlieus as a "good cigar," and tendered the same to him.

"Ah," he said, "many thanks, merci, non, I do not smoke the cigar. M'sieu' perhaps has a cigarette? M'sieu' will pardon me if I say that this is the first act of kindness which has been accorded to me since my incarceration three weeks ago."

Somewhere I found a box of cigarettes, one of which he removed, gracefully holding it between fingers which I noticed were singularly white and delicate, and lighting it with the air of a diplomat at an international conference.

"You can hardly appreciate," he ventured, "the humiliation to which I, an officer and a gentleman of France, have been subjected."

I lighted the cigar which he had declined and with mingled feelings of embarra.s.sment, distrust and curiosity inquired if his name was Charles Julius Francis de Nevers. I wish it were possible to describe the precise look which flashed across his face as he answered my question.

"That is my name," he said, "or at least rather, I am Charles Julius Francis, and I am of Nevers. May I speak confidentially? Were my family to be aware of my present situation they would never recover from the humiliation and disgrace connected with it."

"Certainly," said I, "anything which you may tell me which you wish to be kept confidential I will treat as such, provided, of course, that what you tell me is the truth."

"You shall hear nothing else," he replied. Then leaning back in his chair he said simply and with great dignity, "I am by direct inheritance today the Duc de Nevers, my father, the last duke, having died in the month of February, 1905."

Any such announcement would ordinarily have filled me with amus.e.m.e.nt, but that the gentleman sitting before me should declare himself to be a duke or even a prince seemed entirely natural.

"Indeed!" said I, unable to think of any more appropriate remark.

"Yes," said De Nevers, "and M'sieu' is naturally surprised that one of my distinguished position should be now a tenant of an American jail. But if M'sieu' will do me the honor of listening for a few moments I will explain my present extraordinary predicament. I am Charles Julius Francois, eldest son of the late Oscar Odon, Duc de Nevers, Grand Commander of the Legion of Honor, and Knight of the Garter. I was born in Paris in the year 1860 at 148 Rue Champs Elysee; my mother, the dowager d.u.c.h.ess, is now residing at the Chateau de Nevers in the Province of Nievre in France. My sister Jeanne married Prince Henry of Aremberg, and now lives in Brussells at the Palais d'Aremberg, situated at the corner of the Rue de Regence near the Palais de Justice. My sister Louise, the Countess of Kilkenny, is living in Ireland. My sister Camille married the Marquis of Londonderry and is residing in London at the present time. My sister Evelyn married the Earl of Dudley and is living in Dublin. I have one other sister, Marie, who is with my mother. My brother, Count Andre de Nevers is at present Naval Attache at Berlin. My brother Fernand is an officer of artillery stationed in Madagascar, and my youngest brother Marcel is also an officer of artillery attached to the 8th Regiment in Nancy. I make this statement by way of introduction in order that you may understand fully my situation. During my childhood I had an English tutor in Paris, and when I reached the age of ten years I was sent by my father to the College Louis le Grand where I took the course of Science and Letters and graduated from the Lycee with the degree of Bachelor on the 5th of August, 1877. Having pa.s.sed my examination for the Polytechnic I remained there two years, and on my graduation received a commission as Sous-Lieutenant of Engineers, and immediately entered the Application School at Fontainebleau, where I was graduated in 1881 as Lieutenant of Engineers and a.s.signed to the First Regiment of Engineers at Versailles-"

De Nevers paused and exhaled the cigarette smoke.

"M'sieu' will pardon me if I go into detail for only in that way will he be convinced of the accuracy of what I am telling him."

"Pray, go on," said I. "If what you tell me is true your case is extraordinary indeed."

"My first act of service," continued De Nevers, "was on the 10th of August when I was sent to Tonkin. I will not trouble you with the details of my voyage on the transport to China, but will simply state that I was wounded in the engagement at Yung Chuang on the 7th of November of the same year and had the distinction of receiving the Cross of the Legion of Honor therefor. I was immediately furloughed back to France, where I entered the Superior School of War and took my Staff Major brevet. At the same time I seized the opportunity to follow the course of the Sorbonne and secured the additional degree of Doctor of Science. I had received an excellent education in my youth and always had a taste for study, which I have taken pains to pursue in whatever part of the world I happened to be stationed. As a result I am able to converse with considerable fluency in English, as perhaps you have already observed, as well as in Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, Arabic, and, to a considerable extent, in j.a.panese.

"In 1883 I was sent to Berlin as Military Attache, but was subsequently recalled because I had violated the rules of international etiquette by fighting three duels with German officers. The Amba.s.sador at this time was Charles de Courcel. You will understand that there was no disgrace connected with my recall, but the necessity of defending my honor was incompatible with the rules of the service, and after fifteen months in Berlin I was remanded to Versailles with the rank of First Lieutenant, under Colonel Quinivet. Here I pursued my studies and was then ordered to the Soudan, whence, after being wounded, I was sent to Senegal. Here I acted as Governor of the City of St. Louis. As you are doubtless aware, the climate of Senegal is exceedingly unhealthy. I fell ill with a fever and was obliged to return to France where I was a.s.signed to the office of the General Staff Major in Paris. At the opening of the war with Dahomey in 1892, I was sent in command of the Engineers of the Corps Expeditional, and on the 17th of November of that year was severely wounded at Dakar in Dahomey, having received a spear cut through the lungs. On this occasion I had the distinction of being promoted as Major of Engineers and was created an Officer of the Legion of Honor on the battle field. The wound in my lungs was of such a serious character that Colonel Dodds sent me back once more to France on furlough, and President Carnot was kind enough to give me his personal commendation for my services.

"I was now thirty-three years old and had already attained high rank in my profession. I had had opportunity to pursue studies in chemistry, medicine and science, and my only interest was in the service of my country and in qualifying myself for my future duties. My life up to that time had been uniformly happy; I was the eldest son and beloved both of my father and mother. My social position gave me the entree to the best of society wherever I happened to be. As yet, however, I had never been in love. At this time occurred the affair which in a measure changed my career. The wound in my lungs was slow in healing, and at the earnest invitation of my sister, Lady Londonderry, I went to London. At that time she was living in Belgravia Square. It was here I met my first wife."

De Nevers paused. The cigarette had gone out. For the first time he seemed to lose perfect control of himself. I busied myself with some papers until he should have regained his self possession.

"You will understand," he said in a few moments, "these things are not governed by law and statute. The woman with whom I fell in love and who was in every respect the equal in intellectual attainments, beauty and charm of manner of my own people, was the nursery governess in my sister's household. She returned my affection and agreed to marry me. The proposed marriage excited the utmost antipathy on the part of my family; my fiancee was dismissed from my sister's household, and I returned to Paris with the intention of endeavoring by every means in my power to induce my father to permit me to wed the woman I loved. It is doubtless difficult for M'sieu' to appreciate the position of a French officer. In America-Ah-America is free, one can marry the woman one loves, but in France no officer can marry without the consent of the Minister of War and of the President of the Republic; and more than that he cannot marry unless his intended wife possesses a dowry of at least fifty thousand francs which must be deposited with the Minister of War for investment."

"In spite of the fact that I enjoyed the confidence and friendship of President Carnot the latter, at my father's request, refused me permission to marry. There was no choice left for me but to resign my commission, and this I did. I returned to England and was married at St. Thomas's Church, London, on the 21st of June, 1893.

"My education as an engineer had been of the most highly technical and thorough character, and I had every reason to believe that in America I could earn a comfortable living. My wife and I, therefore, sailed for America immediately after our marriage. I first secured a position in some iron works in South Boston, and for a time lived happily. A boy, Oscar, named after my father, was born to us while we were living in the town of Winchester near Boston. Another son was born a year later in the same place, and still a third in Pittsburgh, where I had gone to a.s.sume the position of general foreman of the Homestead Steel Works and a.s.sistant master mechanic of the Carnegie Steel Company. I rapidly secured the confidence of my employers and was sent upon several occasions to study new processes in different parts of the country. During one of my vacations we returned to England and visited my wife's people, who lived in Manchester; here she died on the 17th of June, 1901."

De Nevers paused again and it was some moments before he continued.