_COMMON SHARPERS AND THEIR TRICKS_
In dealing with a subject of so wide a character as that upon which we
are engaged, the difficulty of beginning at the beginning is greater
than may appear to a casual reader. There are so many points from which
it may be attacked. As to treating of all that is known in reference to
it, or tracing it back to the earliest records, that, of course, is out
of the question in the limited space at our disposal. Even were one
historically inclined, who can say where the beginning begins.
Doubtless, one would have to search the geological formations at great
depth in order to discover remains of that man who first conceived the
idea of correcting fickle fortune at the expense of his fellows. If
science ever achieves this discovery, we shall certainly have reasonable
grounds for believing that we have found a very near relative of Adam.
Although the general public have so little acquaintance with the higher
developments of cheating, still, a great deal has been written
concerning some of the more elementary methods. This being so, the
question of what ought to be left out--at what point we ought to take up
the thread of our discourse--becomes of paramount importance. Obviously,
it is useless to repeat what is well-known.
Many of these primitive methods, however, are still so frequently
practised, that this book would be incomplete without some reference at
least being made to the more important among them. Therefore, with a
view to clearing the ground for what is to follow, and for the benefit
of the general reader, this chapter will be devoted to the more familiar
systems of 'sharping.'
There is, perhaps, no field of operation so prolific in specimens of the
genus 'sharp' as a race-course and its approaches upon the occasion of a
popular race-meeting. For our present purpose, therefore, we cannot do
better than to imagine, for the moment, that we are on our way to some
such gathering. Arriving at the London terminus, in good time for our
train, we take our seats in a second-class smoking compartment. Possibly
the only other occupants of the carriage at first are two or three
holiday makers, on pleasure bent. Not really sporting men, but average
citizens, looking forward to the excitement of the race, and also
possibly to the pleasurable anxiety of a little 'flutter,' at long odds
or otherwise.
It is not long before the other seats are all occupied. A man of
decidedly 'sporting' appearance, with a field-glass slung over his
shoulder, and carrying a thick travelling rug, strolls leisurely by the
door, merely glancing in as he passes. In a few moments, however, he
returns, and takes a middle seat in the compartment. Then follow two or
three others, averaging in appearance something between sporting
characters and second-rate commercial travellers. These take whatever
seats may happen to be vacant, and either become absorbed in their
newspapers or enter into conversation with their neighbours, as the case
may be. The experienced reader will have no need to be told that we are
associating with a gang working the 'three-card trick.' The man in
sporting attire is the 'sharp,' and those who accidentally (?) dropped
in after him are his confederates.
No sooner is the train well on its way, than our friend of the
field-glasses takes down his rug from the rack, folds it across his
knees, and producing a pack of cards, selects three--generally a king
and two others--which he throws, face upward, upon the rug.
'Now, gentlemen,' he says, 'I think we'll have a little game, just to
pass the time. Anyhow, if it amuses me, it won't hurt you.' With these
or some such words by way of preface, he takes up the three cards, and
throws them, one at a time, face downward, upon the rug. Then, with much
rapidity, he transposes the positions of the cards several times, and
observes, 'Now, tell me which is the king, and stake your money.'
Having thus attracted attention, he commences again. At this point, one
of the confederates looks calmly up from his paper, and murmurs
something to his neighbour about 'making one's expenses.' Probably,
also, he will produce a couple of sovereigns.
'Now, gentlemen,' continues the sharp, 'there are two cards for
you,'--taking them up--'and one card for me. The king is mine,'--taking
it up--'the ace and the seven are yours.' Then, with everyone in the
carriage following his movements, he again throws the cards down and
manipulates them as before. 'Now, tell me which is my card,' he says.
Nobody responds, however; and the sharp picks up the king, which proves
to be in the position where one would expect to find it. Indeed, the
on-looker who could not follow the king through its various evolutions
would be dull of perception.
Again and again the performance is repeated, and every time the
on-lookers can follow the movements of the king with the utmost ease. At
length, in response to an appeal from the operator 'not to be backward,
gentlemen,' the confederate who produced the sovereigns a little while
ago suddenly dashes one down on the card which all believe to be the
king. The card is turned up, and proves to be the right one,
consequently he receives the amount of his stake.
At the next turn another confederate stakes a sovereign, and wins. The
same thing follows with a third. Then, perhaps, the first stakes two
sovereigns, and again wins. Not only so, but taking advantage of the
obviously unsuspicious nature of the operator, he picks up the card
himself, and in so doing accidentally bends one corner up slightly.
Now everyone has heard of the three-card trick, though not one in a
thousand knows how it is worked. Consequently, the uninitiated among our
associates, finding that they are able to trace the king unerringly,
begin to think that, either this operator is a duffer, or that they are
particularly sharp fellows. Besides, there is the king, going about with
a turned-up corner, and losing money for the performer at every turn.
Small wonder, then, that their cupidity is aroused, and at length one of
them stakes a sovereign on the card with the turned-up corner. And he
wins? Oh, dear no! By some, unaccountable mischance, the king has become
straightened in the course of manipulation, and a corner of one of the
other cards has been turned up. Singular, is it not? Of course the loser
cannot complain, or he would have to admit that he had been trying to
take an unfair advantage of his opponent. Therefore he resolves to trust
entirely to his judgment in the future.
Then, for the first time, apparently, the operator notices the defective
corner and straightens it. Again the cards are thrown down, and the last
player, thinking to retrieve his loss, stakes another sovereign. He has
kept his eyes intently upon the king, as it passed from side to side and
back to the centre. He feels confident of success this time; but there
is a mistake somewhere, for again he loses.
And so the game goes on, with unvarying result. Whenever one of the
first two or three players--the confederates--stakes his money, he
always wins. Everyone else always loses. Eventually, the game is
discontinued; either owing to the fact that no more stakes are to be
had, or that we are approaching our destination.
Upon leaving the train, if we are curious, we may easily discover which
of our late companions are the confederates. They leave the carriage to
all appearance perfect strangers to one another; but follow one of them
at a distance, and it will be found that they are fairly well-acquainted
when not professionally employed.
This trick is an extremely simple one; and is accomplished as follows.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.--Three-card Trick.]
When the cards are taken up, preparatory to manipulation, they are held
as indicated in fig. 1. First, the two indifferent cards are taken, one
in each hand, and next, the king in the right hand. Card No. 2 in the
illustration, therefore, is the king. In throwing down the cards at the
outset No. 1 card is placed in position 1; No. 2 card in position 2; and
No. 3 in position 3. Thus, the king occupies a position between the two
other cards. So far, all is plain sailing, and it is by no means
difficult to trace the movements of the card we are following up,
however deftly it may be manipulated. There is a saying that 'the
quickness of the hand deceives the eye.' That is nonsense. No hand,
however expert, can produce a movement so quick that the eye cannot
detect it. What really deceives the eye in sleight of hand is that some
of the movements are not exactly what they appear to be, their real
nature is skilfully disguised. Of this the three card trick is a good
example. When the sharp observes his pigeon getting ready to be plucked,
he changes his tactics slightly from the straightforward course he has
hitherto pursued. The cards appear to be thrown down in the same manner
as before, but it is not so. In this case, No. 1 card is thrown down in
No. 1 position, as at the outset; but, instead of throwing down No.
2--the king--in No. 2 position, it is card No. 3 which is allowed to
fall, and the king goes finally into position 3. Thus the uninitiated,
instead of following up the king, as they fondly believe, are really on
the trail of card No. 3.
It will be readily understood that the turned-up corner can present no
difficulty to a sharp who has devoted a little practice to its
rectification. The act of throwing down the cards is quite sufficient to
cover all the movement which is necessary.
Instead of ear-marking the card by turning up a corner, the confederate
will sometimes tear off a very minute scrap from his newspaper, and,
wetting it, will attach it to a corner of the card as he turns it up.
When this is done, the operator of course contrives to slip the
moistened fragment from one card to another.
Leaving our three-card acquaintances to their own devices--though,
perhaps, our duty would be to give them into the hands of the police--we
will proceed to the race-course.
Space will not permit us here to consider the numerous evil devices for
acquiring the root of all evil indulged in by race-course sharps. In
fact, these scarcely form part of our subject. Some of them, such as
'telling the tale,' and so on, are more or less ingenious; but at best
they are merely vulgar swindles which involve no skill beyond the
exercise of that tact and plausibility which are common to sharps and
swindlers of every kind.
Pursuing our investigations, then, let us suppose that we now approach
one of the spots where winners and losers, sharps and flats, meet on the
common ground of applying meat and drink to the refreshment of body and
soul. Here, if we are favoured, we may chance to meet with a little
entertainment--intellectual and instructive--provided by the spectacle
of three persons who are engaged in the scientific recreation of
spinning coins upon some convenient corner of table or buffet. Needless
to say, they are two 'sharps' and a 'flat,' and their little game is
'odd man.'
The game is simple, but financially there is a good deal in it. It is
played in this way. Three coins being spun on edge upon a table, it is
obvious that either all three will fall with the same side up--in which
case the spin must be repeated--or, two will fall one way and one the
other. The owner of the latter coin is the 'odd man.' There are two
systems of playing. Either the odd man is out--that is to say, he stands
aside, whilst the other two spin for 'head' or 'woman'--or the odd man
pays. In either case, the loser pays the other two. If fairly played, of
course the chances are equal for all three players. But, alas! even this
apparently innocent game is capable of sophistication.
The method of cheating will be seen at a glance on referring to fig. 2.
[Illustration: FIG. 2.--Bevelled Coins.]
A coin which has been slightly bevelled to one side will bear a
superficial examination without creating suspicion as to its
genuineness. If it has a milled edge, it must necessarily be re-milled.
Such a coin, when spun on edge, will always tend to fall in one
direction. The bevelling, as shown in the figure, is exaggerated, for
distinctness' sake; in practice, the angle is very slight.
Two 'sportsmen,' each provided with coins of this description, meet with
a 'mug' and propose spinning for liquid refreshment. If they are pretty
sure of their man they may possibly allow him to win. Afterwards,
however, they lead him on to spin for higher stakes, and then he
invariably loses.
If the game is 'odd man pays,' they spin with coins which will fall
alike; simultaneously changing their coins from time to time, so that
they do not always bring them same side up. This being so, all three
coins must either fall alike, or else the dupe will be the odd man. Then
he pays each of his companions the amount of the stakes. Thus, the
chances are dead against the dupe, for his opponents cannot possibly
lose.
When the game is 'odd man out,' the winnings are not made so rapidly;
but at the same time they are quite as certain, and the proceedings are
not so liable to create suspicion. In this case, the sharps spin with
coins which will fall in different directions, and consequently the dupe
is never the odd man. His coin is bound to fall the same way as one of
the others; so he has to spin again with one or other of the 'rooks.' If
the second spin is 'head wins,' the sharp will use a coin which falls
'head.' Here, again, the coins must either fall alike, and the spin be
repeated, or the dupe must lose.
To disarm suspicion, however, the second spin may occasionally be a fair
one; his opponent using a 'square' coin. Even then, the chances are two
to one against him. Supposing the stakes are a sovereign, the loser has
to pay the two winners a sovereign each; and therefore if the dupe loses
he has to pay two sovereigns, whilst, if he wins, he receives only one.
So much, then, for 'odd man.'
If we search the purlieus of the race-course, we are sure to find the
'purse trick' well in evidence. A good many people seem to get a living
at it, yet there is not much mystery connected with it. Its
accomplishment rests purely on sleight of hand. We are all familiar with
the purse purporting to contain a half-crown and a shilling which the
salesman offers to dispose of for the modest amount of sixpence or so.
It is extraordinary, however, how few know wherein the trick lies. For
the benefit of those who are unacquainted with it, the following short
description is given.
The man throws a half-crown and a shilling into a two-penny purse,
and the price demanded for the whole may vary from sixpence to
eighteenpence, according to circumstances. Sometimes the purse, when
purchased, is found to contain the actual amount ostensibly put into it.
'Springes to catch woodcocks!' The purchaser is a confederate. In the
event of a stranger buying it, the contents will prove to be a penny and
a halfpenny. The operator really throws the half-crown and shilling into
the purse several times; turning them out again into his hand, to show
the genuineness of the transaction. Or, he may spin them in the air, and
catch them in the purse by way of variety. But when the time for selling
arrives, although he does not appear to have changed his tactics in the
least, the transmutation of metals becomes an accomplished fact, silver
is converted to bronze.
The man has a money-bag slung in front of him, into which he is
continually dipping his hand, for the purpose of taking out or returning
the coins. This bag seems to contain only silver, but there is a vein of
baser metal underlying the nobler. Therefore, in taking out a
half-crown, nothing is easier than for the man to palm a penny at the
same time. This being done, it is the penny which goes into the purse,
and the half-crown is transferred, for the moment, to his palm; but only
for the moment. It is dropped, immediately, into the bag; so that, by
the time that his hand has fallen to his side, it is empty. That is one
dodge. Another is to take the half-crown and penny together in the
fingers, the penny underlying the half-crown, concealed from view. Then
the penny is dropped and the half-crown palmed as before. Again, the
half-crown and shilling being really in the purse, the man will take
them out with his fingers, apparently for the purpose of showing them to
the multitude, at the same time introducing into the purse three
halfpence which he has held concealed. Then he appears to throw the
silver coins quickly into the purse, but in reality he palms them, the
sound made by the coins in falling being counterfeited by chinking the
coppers which the purse already contains. A variation upon this trick is
sometimes performed with a piece of paper in which is screwed up some
article of cheap jewellery, and into which the coins are supposed to be
thrown, as in the purse trick. These men adopt various methods of
explaining their reasons for selling so much money at so cheap a rate,
one of the most common being that someone has laid a wager that the
public are too sceptical to buy money offered in that manner. Well, such
a wager would be a tolerably safe one; for, as a rule, the public are
only sceptical concerning those things which are genuine. It is
probably because the purse-trick is not genuine that the tricksters find
purchasers. It is always the swindle which takes best with the public.
Certainly, anyone who is taken in over this trick deserves to be.
On our way home in the train we may, perhaps, encounter a party playing
'Nap.' It may be a friendly game, fairly played--or it may not. If it is
not, we shall undoubtedly find that one of the players loses heavily. It
is only penny Nap, he is told. Yes, but one can lose a good deal, in a
small way, even at penny Nap. Especially if the other players know the
best and quickest way of winning.
The most ordinary way of cheating at this game consists of 'putting up'
hands for the dupe and one of the other players. The methods of
accomplishing this manoeuvre will be fully detailed in the chapter on
'Manipulation.' For the present, it is sufficient to say that the cards
are so manipulated that the dupe has always a good hand. So far, this
looks as though matters should prove very favourable to the dupe;
therefore, he frequently goes 'Nap.' It always happens, however, that
one of the other players holds a hand which is slightly better. The dupe
may even hold the ace, king, queen, and knave of one suit, and the ace
of another. By every law of the game he is bound to go 'Nap,' and win.
So he makes his long suit trumps, feeling that he has a 'certainty.'
But when the cards are played, it turns out that one of his opponents
holds five small trumps against his four big ones, and he loses on the
last round.
An incident of this kind is reported, where the dupe, in a two-handed
game, being rendered suspicious by the eagerness of those about him to
wager that he would not make his Nap, instead of leading out his long
suit, made his odd ace the trump, and thereby won. In a game of more
than two players, this could be prevented by one of the others holding
two cards of the same suit as the ace. Moral--Don't gamble with
strangers. It is never safe; particularly in a railway train.
The foregoing being sufficient to give the reader a general idea of the
common sharp and his methods, no more need be said with regard to this
elementary branch of our subject. It will be sufficient to point out
that the sharp usually devotes his entire energies to perfecting himself
in some particular game. Having found his victim, he feigns indifferent
play, and encourages the dupe to 'take him on.' No matter how skilful he
may be, he never allows any evidence of the fact to escape him. One does
not find a card-sharper, for instance, entertaining his chance
acquaintances with card-tricks--at least, not to their knowledge. To use
the language which he would probably adopt, such a proceeding would be
'giving himself away with a pound of tea.' The sharp's motto is, 'Art
is to conceal art;' and his success in life depends very greatly upon
the strict observation of this maxim.
Skill, however, is not the only qualification necessary to the
successful sharp. He must have unbounded self-confidence if his wiles
are to be of any avail. In addition, he must also possess tact and
address, for upon these two qualities will depend the grade of society
into which he will be enabled to carry his operations. Given a liberal
endowment of these two attributes, there is no circle, however high or
however select, into which the sharp will not ultimately penetrate. The
public have occasionally an opportunity of peeping behind the scenes,
but the cases of cheating which come to light bear a very small
proportion to those which are condoned or hushed up, and the number of
these again is nothing when compared with the infinity of cases which
are never discovered.
All the comparatively insignificant matters dealt with so far are of
course common knowledge to many. As before mentioned, however, the
general public know very little of them, otherwise the numbers who gain
a living by such means could not exist. It is for this reason only that
they have been even referred to here. Other and far more ingenious
trickeries call for our attention, and to these we will now pass on.