ALMOST A TRAGEDY
A day or two after the sale of the Majestic, while the preparation of
the transfer papers was going on, Mr. McLain's young man, who was acting
as his secretary and clerk, asked his employer to be relieved of his
present duties.
"Why, what is the matter, Hiram?" asked Mr. McLain. "Don't you like
your job?"
"Yes, sir," was the prompt reply, "but I have got a place that suits me
better, and, besides, I shall make more money."
"Where are you going?"
"Major Bancroft has given me the chief clerkship at the hotel."
"Ah, I didn't know that you had met the major. What will he do
with Case?"
"I do not know."
"Well, it will be several days before he gets possession. When do you
want to leave me?"
The reply was: "I should like to be released tonight, as Mr. Case is
going to show me how to do the work."
"Very well," replied Mr. McLain, "come to me tomorrow morning and I will
settle with you."
* * * * *
"Nick Hanson, Genesee House, Buffalo, N.Y., U.S.A: Come quick. Your man
is here. Risis--Montreal."
Hanson received this telegram at seven o'clock in the morning, while
eating his breakfast in the old Genesee House, Buffalo. In thirty minutes
he was on the Niagara Express. That night about ten o'clock two men
walked into the public room of the Majestic. Just outside the office
door, in a lounging chair, sat the prospective landlord, as everybody
called him. One of the newcomers was Ben Loring, a well-known detective
of the Montreal department; the other our old friend Nick Hanson.
"Hello, Blair!" exclaimed Nick, in his usual jovial tones, as if greeting
an old friend, as he confidently held out his hand.
At that instant, instead of receiving a handshake, he received a
tremendous blow on the neck, just the place which pugilists aim for. Nick
staggered and almost fell. This blow was not struck by the major, but by
his new clerk, who had not been observed by either of the newcomers.
"Two can play at that game," muttered Ben Loring, as he felled Hiram to
the floor with a sweeping blow, and in half a minute Ben had his nippers
on the young man's wrists. "I'll teach you to interfere with an officer
in the line of duty," he added.
In the meantime, as Nick staggered up, and the major saw him gaining his
equilibrium, he succeeded in drawing a revolver, but as he raised it to
about the level of Hanson's breast that athlete kicked the hand that held
it, and the gun flew upward, struck the ceiling, was discharged, and fell
harmlessly to the floor, while the dislocated hand of the major dropped
helplessly to his side. The other wrist was instantly handcuffed, and
within a few minutes both landlord and clerk were helpless prisoners on
their way to the police station. Arriving at that place, they were duly
searched by an officer and their pockets emptied. From the major was
taken a receipt signed by Case for a package of money said to contain
fifty thousand pounds. Then a doctor was found to examine his crippled
hand. There was a compound fracture in addition to the dislocation.
It was now nearly midnight. After the injured hand had been properly
treated and dressed the prisoners were locked up, and the officers
returned to the hotel, where Case handed over to them the package of
money. The two officers examined the notes and, finding them to be as the
major had represented, departed with them in their possession, pending
the proper disposition of the case. When they were gone the two
detectives sat discussing the event that had just occurred.
"But who is the fellow that gave you the lick which so nearly put you to
sleep?" asked Ben.
"O, that is Thurston, who is at the bottom of this whole Montreal
scheme. He came here and learned that McLain had a safe of his own, and
was the custodian of his own money, and knowing that no bank would
receive one of these notes, since they have all the numbers, and that
McLain would in all probability give no particular thought to the matter
of the numbered notes, they both determined to risk buying and paying
with this marked money, hold the property a while, sell out, if necessary
for less than they gave, and, by selling, get hold of money that they
_could_ use."
"Nothing plainer," said Ben, when Nick had finished, "and tomorrow was
the day set for closing the deal and turning the property over to the
new owner."
"This Thurston," said Nick, "is the fellow that slipped away from Job
Worth, taking Job's watch and one hundred pounds of his money."
Just as they were about to go to bed Mr. McLain arrived, and in the
conversation which ensued made it clear that while deploring the
unfortunate developments in the case, he really entertained no regret in
having failed to dispose of the Majestic.
The next day a consultation was held at the Montreal Police Headquarters.
There were present Nick Hanson, Ben Loring, the chief of police, the
mayor of the city, two attorneys, Mr. Cross, cashier of the First
National Bank, and Mr. McLain. The money was produced, together with the
announcement issued by the Bank of England, and the cashier showed the
list of numbers of the missing notes. The next point considered was the
official assurance of the Bank of England that should the money be
returned, prosecution would cease. All the money had been captured, or
returned, and yet they had two of the men prisoners. What should they do
with them? It was finally agreed to set them free. Before this was done,
however, Hanson cabled his chief in London identifying Thurston as the
man who had robbed Worth in Evansville, Indiana, but received the answer
that Thurston would not be prosecuted. Upon receipt of this order both
men were allowed to go free, and Nick in a few days sailed for Liverpool.
The major was taken to the hospital, but despite the most careful
treatment two of his fingers were lost. He went from bad to worse, and
was finally reduced to the state of a wretched pauper, but ever bearing
the derisive title of "Major Bancroft." They all remembered him as the
thief who bought the Majestic. Such was the end of a young man whose
future had been full of promise, the brightest student of his class in
Burrough Road Institute--a poor pauper, unpitied by all who learned the
history of his life. Thurston secured a place to drive an omnibus to and
from the railroad depot to the Majestic Hotel. He is now an old man,
white headed, unknown, forgotten, unloved, and alone.
O, the pity of it! Two young men of good parentage and of more than
ordinary ability, with gracious opportunities, wrecked in early manhood
by mad and reckless ambition. Haste to become rich. And after the
sacrifice of honor and self-respect and the securing that which they had
coveted--could not use it for any commercial purpose. Thinking that its
possession would make them rich they became poor indeed. They now drop
out of our story, followed by our deepest pity and commiseration.