IV.

Shortly before noon on Monday morning, Camden Gerard stepped into the

jewelry establishment of William Van Broom, in the city of Wheeling, and

asked for the proprietor. That gentleman came forward in no very kindly

humor. Upon seeing the well dressed young man, he at once concluded that

he was a high-grade jewel drummer, and being a practical business man,

he was kindly at sales and surly at purchases.

"This is Mr. Van Broom, I believe," said the young man. "My name

is Gerard. I am from New York, sir." Then noticing the jeweller's

expression, he added, quickly: "I am not a salesman, sir, and am not

going to consume your time. I am in West Virginia on business, and

stepped in here to present a letter of introduction which my friend,

Bartholdi, insisted upon writing."

The affability of the jeweller returned with a surge. He bowed and

beamed sweetly as he broke the seal of the letter of introduction. The

paper bore the artistic stamp of Bartholdi and Banks, the great diamond

importers, and ran as follows:

"William Van Broom, Esq.,

"Wheeling, West Va.

"Dear Sir:

"This will introduce Mr. Camden Gerard. Kindly show him every possible

courtesy, for which we shall be under the greatest obligations.

"Most sincerely your obedient servants,

"Bartholdi and Banks"

The jeweller's eyes opened wide with wonder. He knew this firm to be the

largest and most aristocratic dealers in the world. It was much honor,

and perhaps vast benefit, to be of service to them, and he was flattered

into the seventh heaven.

"I am indeed glad to meet you, sir," he said, seizing the man's hand and

shaking it vigorously. "I certainly hope that I can be of service. It is

now near twelve; you will come with me to lunch at the club?"

"I thank you very much," answered Camden Gerard, "but I am compelled

to go to the Sistersville oil field on the noon train. However, I will

return at eight, and shall expect you to dine with me at the hotel."

The jeweller accepted the invitation with ill-concealed delight. The

young man thanked him warmly for his kindly interest, bade him good-day,

and went out.

That night at eight, Camden Gerard and Mr. William Van Broom dined

in the best style the city could afford. The wine was excellent and

plentiful, and Gerard proved to be most entertaining. He was brilliant

and considerate to such a degree, that when the two men parted for

the night the jeweller assured himself that he had never met a more

delightful companion.

The following morning Camden Gerard dropped into the store for a few

moments, and while conversing with his friend Van Broom, noticed a

little ring in the show window. He remarked on its beauty, and intimated

that he must purchase a birthday present for his little daughter. The

jeweller took the ring from the case and handed it to Gerard. That

gentleman discovered that it was far prettier than he had at first

imagined it, and inquired the price.

"It is marked at twenty-five dollars," said the jeweller.

"Why," said Camden Gerard, "that is very cheap; I will take it."

The jeweller wrapped up the ring and gave it to the New Yorker. That

gentleman paid the money and returned to his hotel.

The next day Camden Gerard was presumably down in the great Tyler County

oil field. At any rate he returned to the city on the evening train and

dined with Van Broom at the club. As the evening waned, the men grew

confidential. Gerard spoke of the vast fortunes that were made in oil.

He said that the West Virginia fields were scarce half developed, but

that they had already attracted the attention of the great Russian

companies and that gigantic operations might be soon expected.

He denounced the autocratic policy of the Czar in regard to oil

transportation, and hinted vaguely at vast international combines. He

spoke of St. Petersburg and the larger Russian cities; of the manners

and customs of the nobility; of their vast fortunes, and their very

great desire to invest in America. He intimated vaguely that there now

existed in New York a colossal syndicate backed by unlimited Russian

capital, but he gave the now excited and curious jeweller no definite

information concerning himself or his business in West Virginia,

shrewdly leaving Van Broom to draw his own inferences.

It was late when William Van Broom retired to his residence. He was

happy and flattered, and with reason. Had he not been selected by the

great firm of Bartholdi & Banks to counsel with one who, he strongly

suspected, was the private agent of princes?

About two o'clock on the following Thursday afternoon, Mr. Camden Gerard

called upon William Van Broom and said that he wished to speak with

him in his private office. The New Yorker was soiled and grimy, and

had evidently just come from a train, but he was smiling and in high

spirits.

When the two men were alone in the private office, Camden Gerard took a

roll of paper from his pocket, and turned to Van Broom. "Here are some

papers," he said, speaking low that he might not be overheard. "I have

no secure place to put them, and I would be under great obligations to

you if you would kindly lock them up in your safe."

"Certainly," said the jeweller, taking the papers and crossing to the

safe. He threw back the door and pulled out one of the little boxes. It

contained an open leather case in which there was a magnificent diamond

necklace.

"By George!" said Camden Gerard, "those are splendid stones."

"Yes," answered Van Broom, taking out the case and handing it to the

New Yorker. "They are too valuable for my trade; I am going to return

them."

Camden Gerard carried the necklace to the light and examined it

critically. The stones were not large but they were clear and flawless.

"What are these worth?" he said, turning to Van Broom.

"Thirty-five hundred dollars," answered the jeweller.

"What!" cried Gerard, "only thirty-five hundred dollars for this

necklace? It is the cheapest thing I ever saw. You are away under the

foreign dealers."

"They are cheap," said Van Broom. "That is almost the wholesale price."

"But," said Camden Gerard, "you must be mistaken. Your mark is certainly

wrong. I have seen smaller stones in the Russian shops for double the

price."

"We can't sell the necklace at that figure," said Van Broom, smiling.

"We are not such sharks as your foreign dealers."

"If you mean that," said Camden Gerard, "I will buy these jewels here

and now. I had intended purchasing something in the east for my wife,

but I can never do better than this."

The New Yorker took out his pocket-book and handed Van Broom a bill.

"Before you retract," he said, "here is fifty to seal the bargain. Get

your hat and come with me to the bank."

"All right," said Mr. Van Broom, taking the money. "The necklace is

yours, my friend." Camden Gerard closed the leather case and put it into

his pocket. The jeweller locked the safe, put on his hat, and the two

went out of the store and down the street to the banking house of the

Mechanics' Trust Company. Mr. Gerard enquired for the cashier. The

teller informed him that the cashier was in the back room of the bank

and if he would step back he could see him. The New Yorker asked his

companion to wait for a moment until he spoke with the cashier. Then he

went back into the room indicated by the teller, closing the door after

him.

The cashier sat at a table engaged with a pile of correspondence. He was

busy and looked up sharply as the man entered.

"Sir," said the New Yorker, "have you received a sealed package from the

Adams Express Company consigned to one Camden Gerard?"

"No," answered the cashier, turning to his work.

"You have not?" repeated Gerard, excitedly, "then I will run down to

the telegraph office and see what is the matter." Thereupon he crossed

hurriedly to the side door of the office, opened it and stepped out into

the street. The cashier went on with his work.

For perhaps a quarter of an hour William Van Broom waited for his

companion to conclude his business with the cashier. Finally he grew

impatient and asked the teller to remind Mr. Gerard that he was waiting.

The teller returned in a moment and said that the gentleman had gone to

the telegraph office some time ago. The jeweller's heart dropped like a

lead plummet. He turned without a word and hurried to the office of the

Western Union. Here his fears were confirmed, Camden Gerard had not been

in the office. He ran across the street to the hotel and enquired for

the New Yorker. The clerk informed him that the gentleman had paid his

bill and left the hotel that morning. The jeweller's anxiety was at

fever heat, but with all he was a man of business method and knew the

very great value of silence. He called a carriage, went to the chief

of police, and set his machinery in motion. Returning to his place of

business he opened the safe and took out the package of papers which

Camden Gerard had given him. Upon examination this proved to be simply

a roll of blank oil leases. Then remembering the letter of introduction,

he telegraphed to Bartholdi & Banks. Hours passed and not the slightest

trace of Camden Gerard could be found. The presumed friend of the great

diamond importers had literally vanished from the face of the earth.

About four o'clock the jeweller received an answer from Bartholdi &

Banks, stating that they knew no such man as Camden Gerard and that his

letter of introduction was false. Mr. William Van Broom was white with

despair. He put the letter and answer into his pocket and went at once

to the office of the prosecuting attorney for the State and laid the

whole matter before him.

"My dear sir," said that official, when Mr. Van Broom had finished his

story, "your very good friend Camden Gerard owes you thirty-four hundred

and fifty dollars, which he will perhaps continue to owe. You may as

well go back to your business."

"What do you mean?" said the jeweller.

"I mean," replied the attorney, "that you have been the dupe of a shrewd

knave who is familiar with the weak places in the law and has resorted

to an ingenious scheme to secure possession of your property without

rendering himself liable to criminal procedure. It is true that if the

diamonds were located you could attach and recover them by a civil

suit, but it is scarcely possible that such a shrewd knave would permit

himself to be caught with the jewels, and it is certain that he has some

reasonably safe method by which he can dispose of them without fear of

detection. He has trapped you and has committed no crime. If you had

the fellow in custody now, the judge would release him the moment an

application was made. The entire matter was only a sale. He bought the

jewels and you trusted him. He is no more a law-breaker than you are. He

is only a sharper dealer."

"But, sir," cried the angry Van Broom, spreading the false letter out on

the table, "that is forged, every word of it. I will send this fellow to

the penitentiary for forgery. I will spend a thousand dollars to catch

him."

"If you should spend a thousand dollars to catch him," said the

attorney, smiling, "you would never be able to send him to the

penitentiary on that paper. It is not forgery."

"Not forgery!" shouted the jeweller, "not forgery, man! The rascal wrote

every word of that letter. He signed the name of Bartholdi & Banks at

the bottom of it. Every word of that paper is false. The company never

heard of it. Here is their telegram."

"Mr. Van Broom," said the public prosecutor, "listen to me, sir. All

that you say is perhaps true. Camden Gerard doubtless wrote the entire

paper and signed the name of Bartholdi & Banks, and presented it to

you for a definite purpose. To such an act men commonly apply the term

forgery, and in the common acceptation of the word it is forgery and a

reprehensible wrong; but legally, the false making of such a paper as

this is not forgery and is no crime. In order to constitute the crime

of forgery, the instrument falsely made must be apparently capable of

effecting a fraud, of being used to the prejudice of another's right. It

must be such as might be of legal efficacy, or might be the foundation

of some legal liability.

"This paper in question, although falsely made, has none of the vital

elements of forgery under the law. If genuine, it would have no legal

validity, as it affects no legal rights. It would merely be an

attempt to receive courtesies on a promise, of no legal obligation, to

reciprocate them; and courtesies have never been held to be the subject

of legal fraud. This is a mere letter of introduction, which, by no

possibility, could subject the supposed writer to any pecuniary loss or

legal liability. It is not a subject of forgery, and its false making is

no crime.

"Men commonly believe that all writings falsely made or falsely altered

are forgeries. There was never a greater error. Forgery may be committed

only of those instruments in writing which, if genuine, would, or might

appear as the foundation of another man's liability, or the evidence of

his right. All wrongful and injurious acts are not punished by the

law. Wrongs to become crimes must measure up to certain definite and

technical standards. These standards are laid down rigidly by the law

and cannot be contracted or expanded. They are fixed and immutable. The

act done must fit closely into the prescribed measure, else it is no

crime. If it falls short, never so little, in any one vital element, the

law must, and will, disregard it as criminal, no matter how injurious,

or wrongful, or unjust it may be. The law is a rigid and exact science."

Mr. William Van Broom dropped his hands to his sides and gazed at the

lawyer in wonder.

"These facts," continued the attorney, in his clear, passionless voice,

"are matters of amazement to the common people when brought to their

attention. They fail to see the wise but technical distinctions. They

are willing to trust to what they are pleased to call common-sense, and,

falling into traps laid by the cunning villain, denounce the law for

impotency."

"Well," said the jeweller, as he arose and put on his overcoat, "what is

the good of the law anyhow?"

The prosecuting attorney smiled wearily. To him the wisdom of the

law was clear, beautiful, and superlatively just. To the muddy-headed

tradesman it was as color to the blind.