"Sir," replied the knave unabashed, "I am one of those who do make a
living by their wits."
John Felix, a dealer in automatic musical instruments in New York City,
was swindled out of $50,000 on February 2d, 1905, by what is commonly
known as the "wire-tapping" game. During the previous August a man
calling himself by the name of Nelson had hired Room 46, in a building
at 27 East Twenty-second Street, as a school for "wireless telegraphy."
Later on he had installed over a dozen deal tables, each fitted with a
complete set of ordinary telegraph instruments and connected with wires
which, while apparently passing out of the windows, in reality plunged
behind a desk into a small "dry" battery. Each table was fitted with a
shaded electric drop-light, and the room was furnished with the ordinary
paraphernalia of a telegraph office. The janitor never observed any
activity in the "school." There seemed to be no pupils, and no one
haunted the place except a short, ill-favored person who appeared
monthly and paid the rent.
On the afternoon of February 1st, 1905, Mr. Felix was called to the
telephone of his store and asked to make an appointment later in the
afternoon, with a gentleman named Nelson who desired to submit to him a
business proposition. Fifteen minutes afterward Mr. Nelson arrived in
person and introduced himself as having met Felix at "Lou" Ludlam's
gambling house. He then produced a copy of the _Evening Telegram_ which
contained an article to the effect that the Western Union Telegraph
Company was about to resume its "pool-room service,"--that is to say, to
supply the pool rooms with the telegraphic returns of the various
horse-races being run in different parts of the United States. The paper
also contained, in connection with this item of news, a photograph which
might, by a stretch of the imagination, have been taken to resemble
Nelson himself.
Mr. Felix, who was a German gentleman of French sympathies, married to
an American lady, had recently returned to America after a ten years'
sojourn in Europe. He had had an extensive commercial career, was
possessed of a considerable fortune, and had at length determined to
settle in New York, where he could invest his money to advantage and at
the same time conduct a conservative and harmonious business in musical
instruments. Like the Teutons of old, dwelling among the forests of the
Elbe, Mr. Felix knew the fascination of games of chance and he had heard
the merry song of the wheel at both Hambourg and Monte Carlo. In Europe
the pleasures of the gaming table had been comparatively inexpensive,
but in New York for some unknown reason the fickle goddess had not
favored him and he had lost upward of $51,000. "Zu viel!" as he himself
expressed it. Being of a philosophic disposition, however, he had
pocketed his losses and contented himself with the consoling thought
that, whereas he might have lost all, he had in fact lost only a part.
It might well have been that had not The Tempter appeared in the person
of his afternoon visitor, he would have remained _in status quo_ for the
rest of his natural life. In the sunny window of his musical store,
surrounded by zitherns, auto-harps, dulcimers, psalteries, sackbuts, and
other instruments of melody, the advent of Nelson produced the effect
of a sudden and unexpected discord. Felix distrusted him from the very
first.
The "proposition" was simplicity itself. It appeared that Mr. Nelson was
in the employ of the Western Union Telegraph Company, which had just
opened a branch office for racing news at 27 East Twenty-second Street.
This branch was under the superintendence of an old associate and
intimate friend of Nelson's by the name of McPherson. Assuming that they
could find some one with the requisite amount of cash, they could all
make their everlasting fortunes by simply having McPherson withhold the
news of some race from the pool rooms long enough to allow one of the
others to place a large bet upon some horse which had in fact already
won and was resting comfortably in the stable. Felix grasped the idea
instantly. At the same time he had his suspicions of his visitor. It
seemed peculiar that he, an inconspicuous citizen who had already lost
$50,000 in gambling houses, should be selected as the recipient of such
a momentous opportunity. Moreover, he knew very well that gentlemen in
gambling houses were never introduced at all. He thought he detected the
odor of a rodent. He naïvely inquired why, if all these things were so,
Nelson and his friend were not already yet millionaires two or three
times? The answer was at once forthcoming that they _had_ been, but also
had been robbed--unmercifully robbed, by one in whom they had had
confidence and to whom they had entrusted their money.
"And now we are poor, penniless clerks!" sighed Nelson, "and if we
should offer to make a big bet ourselves, the gamblers would be
suspicious and probably refuse to place it."
"I think this looks like a schvindling game," said Felix shrewdly. So it
did; so it was.
By and by Felix put on his hat and, escorted by Nelson, paid a visit to
the "branch office" at 27 East Twenty-second Street. Where once solitude
had reigned supreme and the spider had spun his web amid the
fast-gathering dust, all was now tumultuous activity. Fifteen busy
operators in eye shades and shirt sleeves took the news hot from the
humming wires and clicked it off to the waiting pool rooms.
"Scarecrow wins by a neck!" cried one, "Blackbird second!"
"Make the odds 5 to 3," shouted a short, ill-favored man, who sat at a
desk puffing a large black cigar. The place buzzed like a beehive and
ticked like a clockmaker's. It had an atmosphere of breathless
excitement all its own. Felix watched and marvelled, wondering if dreams
came true.
The short, ill-favored man strolled over and condescended to make Mr.
Felix's acquaintance. An hour later the three of them were closeted
among the zitherns. At the same moment the fifteen operators were ranged
in a line in front, of a neighboring bar, their elbows simultaneously
elevated at an angle of forty-five degrees.
Felix still had lingering doubts. Hadn't Mr. McPherson some little
paper--a letter, a bill, a receipt or a check, to show that he was
really in the employ of the Western Union? No, said "Mac," but he had
something better--the badge which he had received as the fastest
operator among the company's employees. Felix wanted to see it, but
"Mac" explained that it was locked up in the vault at the Farmers' Loan
and Trust Co. To Felix this had a safe sound--"Farmers' Trust Co." Then
matters began to move rapidly. It was arranged that Felix should go down
in the morning and get $50,000 from his bankers, Seligman and Meyer.
After that he was to meet Nelson at the store and go with him to the
pool room where the big financiers played their money. McPherson was to
remain at the "office" and telephone them the results of the races in
advance. By nightfall they would be worth half a million.
"I hope you have a good large safe," remarked Nelson, tentatively. The
three conspirators parted with mutual expressions of confidence and
esteem.
Next morning Mr. Felix went to his bankers and procured $50,000 in five
ten-thousand-dollar bills. The day passed very slowly. There was not
even a flurry in zitherns. He waited impatiently for Nelson who was to
come at five o'clock. At last Nelson arrived and they hurried to the
Fifth Avenue Hotel where the _coup_ was to take place.
And now another marvel. Wassermann Brothers' stock-brokering office,
which closes at three hummed just as the "office" had done the evening
before--and with the very same bees, although Felix did not recognize
them. It was crowded with men who struggled violently with one another
in their eagerness to force their bets into the hands of a
benevolent-looking person, who, Felix was informed, was the "trusted
cashier" of the establishment. And the sums were so large that even
Felix gasped.
"Make that $40,000 on Coco!" cried a bald-headed "capper."
"Mr. Gates wants to double his bet on Jackstone,--make it $80,000!"
shrieked another.
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" begged the "trusted cashier," "not quite so
fast, if you please. One at a time."
"Sixty thousand on Hesper--for a place!" bawled one addressed as "Mr.
Keene," while Messrs. "Ryan," "Whitney," "Belmont," "Sullivan,"
"McCarren," and "Murphy" all made handsome wagers.
From time to time a sporty-looking man standing beside a ticker, shouted
the odds and read off the returns. Felix heard with straining ears:
"They're off!"
"Baby leads at the quarter."
"Susan is gaining!"
"They're on the stretch!"
"Satan wins by a nose--Peter second."
There was a deafening uproar, hats were tossed ceilingward, and great
wads of money were passed out by the "trusted cashier" to indifferent
millionaires. Felix wanted to rush in and bet at once on something--if
he waited it might be too late. Was it necessary to be introduced to the
cashier? No? Would he take the bet? All right, but--
At that moment a page elbowed his way among the money calling
plaintively for "Felix! Mr. Felix." Shrinking at the thought of such
publicity in such distinguished company, Felix caught the boy's arm and
learned that he was wanted at the telephone booth in the hotel.
"It must be 'Mac,'" said Nelson. "Now don't make any mistake!" Felix
promised to use the utmost care.