stakes until they stood at sixteen shillings. Up to now I had been the
only winner. I had not lost a single penny; as a matter of fact, I was
fifteen and sixpence to the good, but when I tried to find the “lady”
when the stakes stood at sixteen shillings I signally failed, and had
to pay over all my winnings, with an additional sixpence.
By this time I was fairly infected with the game, and had thrown all
discretion to the winds with regard to my return to the office. I
felt confident that I could win a lot of money, and up to this point
had not the faintest suspicion that I was in the midst of a gang of
card-sharpers of whose _modus operandi_ of working the business I was
now being given a practical demonstration. Therefore, when the leader
of the coterie, the man, who had “hooked” me outside, suggested that
the stakes should be thirty-two shillings I made no demur, but blindly
accepted, fondly imagining that by exercising a little care in watching
where the cards were placed I should be able to spot the “lady.”
“Now, gentlemen,” cried the card manipulator, deliberately holding up
the picture card to our view every two or three shuffles, so that I was
able to follow its fortunes with the greatest ease, “there is the lady!
Just watch carefully where I place her.”
As I had been the last loser it was my turn to pick out the picture,
and as he placed the winning card in the centre (I could have sworn
he did) I did not hesitate to indicate my choice by at once turning
it face upwards, when, lo and behold! all that met my gaze was a
plain white surface. Instead of being in the middle, the “lady” was
at the right of me, though how this sleight-of-hand trick had been
accomplished under my very eyes without my detecting it was past my
comprehension.
“Thank you,” said the swindler, suavely; “thirty-two shillings,
please”; and after some fumbling in my trousers pocket I succeeded in
detaching two pound notes from the roll.
“Eight shillings change,” he remarked, genially, and handed me over the
silver.
Inconceivable as it may appear, it is nevertheless the fact that even
this “fleecing” did not arouse my suspicion as to the _bona fides_ of
the proceedings in which I was being made the victim. Possibly I was
too excited at the moment to give this aspect of the matter a thought.
My chief concern just then was to recover the money I had lost--not my
own money, it should be remembered, but my employer’s.
At the suggestion of the old gentleman, who had not up to the
present won a penny, and yet struck me as taking his “bad luck” very
philosophically, the stakes were increased to three pounds--“so as to”
(I use his own ingenuous phrase) “give the young gentleman and myself a
chance.”
I sprang at the bait. Indeed, I was desperately in earnest, and
mentally vowed that I must win this time at all costs.
Need it be recorded that I lost?
The card on the left--my choice--was _not_ the “lady,” and three more
notes were separated from the roll in my pocket.
Then, and not till then, did the real situation dawn upon me--I was
in the hands of a gang of “three-card” tricksters. I had over forty
pounds, which was not mine, on me, and the fashionably-attired stranger
who had ingratiated himself into my good graces by some mysterious
means was fully aware of that fact. The whole thing, in short, was a
cleverly-laid plot to despoil me of my employer’s money.
As the full truth burst upon me I rose from my seat without a word and
made my way to the door, intending to seek the landlord’s assistance.
But it was _locked from outside!_ Bending down and applying my eye to
the lock I saw the key inserted on the saloon side. This discovery I
accepted as furnishing positive proof of the existence of a conspiracy
to rob me. As I stood at the locked door, making up my mind that the
next step should be on my part, the man who had lured me into the place
plucked me by the coat-sleeve and begged me with gentle words to resume
my seat and “talk matters over.”
“Give me my money back!” I cried, impetuously, pointing to the five
notes which lay on the table. “It does not belong to me,” I went on,
entreatingly. “It is my employer’s, and I cannot return to him without
it.”
The two other confederates looked at me with sympathetic glances; then
I fancied I saw an exchange of eye telegraphy between them and the
leader.
“Of course, none of us want to get you into trouble,” he said,
soothingly, at the same time pushing me gently back into my seat and
taking his place opposite me, “but you must admit that you were willing
enough to play the game. No one forced you to it, and what you have
lost has been lost in square play.”
“But why is the door locked if it is all fair and above-board?” I
shouted, excitedly.
“What! the door locked?” they cried in chorus, with well-simulated
amazement.
“Yes, locked from outside,” I continued.
“Ah, from the outside,” replied the leader, smilingly. “That proves we
have nothing to do with it. It is an accident, a mistake on the part of
someone in the saloon.”
Although I did not believe a word of this, for I was now fully
convinced that the landlord was also in league with these scoundrels,
I made no further allusion to it, having made up my mind to a certain
plan by which I hoped to regain possession of the money and make my
escape from this den.
I instinctively knew that a proposal for further play was going to be
made me on the plea of giving me a chance of recouping my losses, and
for the purposes of the desperate plan I had decided upon this was
exactly what I wanted.
“Now, my boy,” began the leader, in his friendly way, “I’ll tell you
what I’ll do to give you a chance. I’ll lay you ten pounds to two
pounds on the next round, and only you and I will play. You shall watch
me as closely as you like, and no doubt you will win.”
“I will agree,” I assented, “on condition that the door is unlocked and
the key brought inside and placed on the table.”
It was a bold move on my part, and I trembled for the answer, because
upon this one point depended to a very great extent the success of the
desperate plan I had thought of to escape, and at the same time regain
my employer’s money.
Evidently sure of their quarry, and all unsuspicious as to my
intentions, the trio at once agreed to the proposal.
The landlord was called--and bullied--the door unlocked, and the key
placed on the table by my side.
Then the cards were laid out afresh, and I made another effort to
“spot” the “lady,” although I was morally certain that I should fail.
I did, and handed over two more pound notes, which the dealer placed
with the five others, lying loosely by his side.
In my jacket pocket I had a large sailors’ clasp knife, with a
murderous-looking blade nearly five inches long, and while my
_vis-à-vis_ was picking up the cards preparatory to another deal, I
having consented to play for the same stakes again, I surreptitiously
got this weapon out and opened it under cover of the table.
The seven Bank of Scotland pound notes lay carelessly bunched together
opposite me on the side of the table and within easy reach, whilst the
door of the “snug” was but a couple of feet away from where I sat, I
being nearest to it.
The next moment I saw my opportunity and seized it.
As the dealer manipulated the cards, he, as he had done all through,
spread out his hand over a card for a couple of seconds. I clutched the
open knife firmly in my right hand, and before any one of those present
could have the slightest idea of my intentions I bounded to my feet,
raised my arm in the air, and the next instant had pinned the sharper’s
hand to the table with the long, keen blade!
With his scream of agony ringing in my ears, and the sight of the
knife quivering in his hand photographed, as it were, upon my vision,
I grabbed at the loose notes which lay in front of me, bunched them up
into the palm of my hand, and, leaving the knife where I had driven it,
flung open the door of the “snug” and bounded through the saloon and
out into the busy street.
[Illustration: “THE NEXT INSTANT I HAD PINNED THE SHARPER’S HAND TO THE
TABLE WITH THE LONG, KEEN BLADE!”]
Though the recital of this incident occupies some little time in the
telling, it was all accomplished in the space of a few seconds, and as
soon as I found myself mixed up with the traffic outside I considered I
was safe from pursuit--if, indeed, it had ever been likely any attempt
would be made by the sharpers to run me to earth.
I reached my uncle’s place of business an hour or two later than I
should have done in the ordinary course, but gave some plausible excuse
for my delay.
He was inclined to be angry at first, but as I produced the money
all right he did not pursue the matter further, although it was not
until a considerable time afterwards that I ventured to give any of my
relations an account of my exciting adventure with the card-sharpers.
III.--“SEEING IT OUT.”
BY ALBERT E. MACGROTTY.
The simple-minded and innocent Britisher may, on his first trip to the
States, now and then walk into a very pretty little trap, neatly and
carefully planned, like the web of the wily spider in wait for the
inoffensive, curiosity-prompted, blundering fly.
I suppose I must have a somewhat unsophisticated aspect, which
disguises all my dark and deep wisdom, and this appearance caused me to
be selected as the victim of the little adventure I am going to recount.
It was at the close of my first visit to the States, and the day
previous to my embarking for old England--all my business finished, and
nothing to do but to say “Good-bye” to my friends and take a last look
round.
I left the Astor House, valise in hand, and walked to the steamer
_Teutonic_ lying alongside the wharf, ready to sail for Liverpool on
the following day. Having put my bag in my state-room, I strolled into
Houston Street with the intention of getting on a cable car for the
Broadway, where I was to lunch with a cousin. No cable car being in
sight, I leisurely lit a cigar and turned round to inspect the goods
in a store window. I had not been gazing therein more than a moment
when I heard a buggy drive up and stop behind me, and someone shout,
“Hey!” I paid no attention, being almost a stranger in New York, and
not supposing that the call was addressed to me, especially as Houston
Street is one of the most crowded thoroughfares in the city.
The call was repeated, but still I took no notice. When I had finished
my inspection of the window I turned round, and to my astonishment saw
that a respectable-looking man in the buggy was endeavouring to attract
my attention. I went up to him and asked what his business was with
me; he replied that he wished to know if I could tell him when the
steamer left for England. “Do you mean the _Teutonic_?” I said, and he
answered, “Yes.”
“To-morrow morning at seven,” I replied. He thanked me, and was just
whipping up his horse to drive on, when he suddenly pulled up again
sharply, and said:--
“Excuse me, sir, but the reason I asked you about the steamer is that
my guv’nor told me to try to find a respectable old gent who was
sailing in the boat for England, and ask him if he would mind looking
after his nephew, who is a boy of ten.”
“I hope you’ve found one,” I told him, smiling.
[Illustration: MR. ALBERT E. MACGROTTY.
_From a Photograph._]
“I’ve come across no one, except yourself,” replied the man.
“Well,” said I, “as the boy is going over alone, if your master will
bring him on to the steamer I will look out for him, and endeavour to
keep an eye upon him during the voyage and make the trip pleasant to
him.”
He thanked me most effusively, and said he was sure that I would be
the right person to look after the boy, adding that his master would
not think of giving me this trouble unless I would consent to receive
payment, say a hundred dollars. I was taken aback by this latter
suggestion, and rapidly came to the conclusion that the man’s so-called
“guv’nor” must be one of the sharpers of New York. Up to this time, I
must acknowledge, I had fully believed the fellow’s statements to be
genuine.
I replied that I could not accept any such payment for the little I
could do for the boy on the ship, whereupon the man again thanked me
warmly, and asked me if I would come to his master’s house in order
that he might introduce me. I declined; but, seeing no cable car coming
along, it flashed across my mind that I would make use of him a little,
so I asked which way he was driving, as I wanted to get to the upper
end of Broadway.
“Jump in, sir!” he cried, whereupon I thanked him, and accepted the
invitation.
I should not, of course, have done this had I not been fairly well
acquainted with New York and able to tell that he was taking me in the
right direction. We drove rapidly, and his conversation was clever and
amusing. He asked me if I knew California?
“Yes, I have just come from there,” I told him. He seemed greatly
pleased at this. Did I know Governor Stanford? I had not that pleasure,
though I knew him well by name. My driver said that he was sorry for
that, as the Governor was a relative of his master’s.
By this time we were in the Broadway, close to my cousin’s office, and
seeing this I asked the man to pull up, but he begged me to go on and
see his guv’nor, as it was only one block farther.
I still had half an hour to spare before lunch, and, though my
suspicions were now thoroughly aroused, some impish spirit prompted me
to “see the thing out,” so I said, “Very well, drive on.”
The man pulled up at the end of the block, and fixed his horse to the
halter found in all New York streets for that purpose. I jumped out
and we entered a stable, I taking care to keep close to the large open
door. Needless to say, I scrutinized the floor closely and rapidly for
trap-doors, but none appeared. My companion asked an ostler, who was
rubbing down one of several horses, if the “guv’nor” was in. The man
said “no,” but he would be back in a few minutes. I then informed the
driver that I could not wait, and had better see him in the morning on
the steamer.
“One minute,” replied the fellow; “if you will be good enough, I have
only to go to No. 4, and will bring my guv’nor back with me.” With that
he disappeared.
While we waited the ostler made one or two friendly remarks concerning
the weather, and a moment later a gentleman, attired in a very
handsome fur-lined coat, silk hat, and kid gloves of a light and
delicate tint, walked into the stable from the street outside. My late
companion followed, and, addressing me, said: “This is Dr. Coombs,
sir,” observing to the doctor that I had offered to look after his
nephew on the steamer without any payment. Dr. Coombs thanked me in a
gentlemanlike manner, and appeared in all respects a well-bred man.
The doctor then turned to his coachman and told him to fetch the boy,
explaining to me that his nephew was a ward in Chancery, and that he
would become possessed of a fortune of over ten million dollars on
attaining his majority. Being the boy’s guardian, he was anxious that
some responsible person should keep an eye upon him during his voyage
to England, where another uncle would meet him. We were only talking
for a short time, but I noticed that the doctor was somewhat restless,
moving frequently towards the stalls containing the horses, all of
which, he remarked, belonged to his nephew. Still I could not shake off
a certain suspicion of my surroundings, and would not move from the
door.
We had been waiting about five minutes when a big, horsy-looking fellow
lounged in from the street, shouting at the top of a loud voice: “Is
the boss in?”
My friend in the fur coat came forward, politely raised his hat, said
he was the master, and asked the stranger’s business.
The new-comer, pointing to a grey mare in one of the stalls, replied,
“I had that mare out yesterday, and I want to know, boss, what you’ll
take for her,” at the same time handing the doctor his card. Both men
were at a little distance from me, and a few words passed between them
which I did not hear. Then the fur-coated gentleman came up to me,
saying, “Excuse me a minute; I can’t understand why the boy is so long;
I will go and fetch him myself!” With that he left me with stranger
number three.
This fellow continued to examine the horses, making remarks upon them
to the ostler, and then, to my surprise, suddenly said to me, pointing
to the grey mare, that he wanted to buy it; but “the boss” could not
sell it to him, as he was an agent in Boston for buying and selling
horses, the same line as “the boss” himself was in, and there was a
State law prohibiting dealings between agents in the same business. He
next asked me if I would help him in the transaction. I replied that I
was sorry I could not see my way to do so.
“I wish you could,” said the stranger. “I would give eight hundred and
fifty dollars for the mare; she is a valuable beast.” As he spoke the
doctor returned. The Bostonian promptly told him he could see a way to
a deal, as that gentleman (pointing to me) would buy the mare with his
money, and then he in turn would purchase her from me, adding, “Now,
boss, what’s your price?”
“Eight hundred dollars,” replied the doctor.
“There,” said the Boston dealer to me; “I told you I would give eight
hundred and fifty dollars. Complete the purchase, and I will pay you
the fifty dollars for commission.”
The doctor chimed in that he also would give me five per cent.--forty
dollars.
“Gentlemen,” I said, laughing, “that is ninety dollars--a good
morning’s work. But do you expect me to be carrying eight hundred
dollars in my pocket through the streets of New York?”
They looked depressed at this; then the Bostonian, becoming suddenly
cheerful, suggested that if “the gentleman” would pay ten per cent,
of the value of the mare, he would pay the balance. The doctor agreed
immediately, and the Bostonian pulled out a roll of green-backs from
his pocket. Asking me to take the money, he placed a twenty-dollar note
in my hand, and while he was taking another from the roll I raised it
slightly as if I was weighing it; I saw at once that the note was a
forged one--some of the letters upon it were smudged. It was not even a
good imitation.
Both men read in my face that I had detected their fraud, and the
expression of their countenances became diabolical. However, the Boston
man went on pushing notes in my hand until he reached one hundred and
fifty dollars, when the doctor pulled him up, saying that he must
have the ten per cent. from me first. I saw the time had come for
action, and so, allowing the notes to drop to the floor, I told them
sternly that if I had been remaining in New York I should have had them
arrested. I then left the premises immediately. Looking back, I saw the
“doctor” rushing down some steps in front of the building, hurriedly
throwing off his fur coat as he went, and the other man walking rapidly
down the street in the opposite direction.
[Illustration: “ALLOWING THE NOTES TO DROP TO THE FLOOR, I TOLD THEM
STERNLY THAT IF I HAD BEEN REMAINING IN NEW YORK I SHOULD HAVE HAD THEM
ARRESTED.”]
In conclusion, I may say that I was very glad to arrive at the Sinclair
House and drink a stiff glass of brandy, as I was a trifle shaky,
swearing to myself that I would never again risk pocket and life with
mysterious strangers in the city of New York, even for the sake of
“seeing it out.”
IN THE LAND OF THE REINDEER.
BY H. CHUSSEAU-FLAVIENS.
[Illustration: A WINTER SCENE IN “THE LAND OF THE REINDEER”--A LAPP
MAGNATE MAKING THE ROUND OF HIS ESTATE.
_From a Photograph._]
An article dealing with a strange and little-known people--the
Lapps. Living in a country where practically nothing grows,
their whole lives are occupied with the reindeer, the one
product of Lapland. A man’s wealth is reckoned in reindeer; he
eats its flesh and drinks its blood for food, and his clothes
are made of its skin. Small wonder, therefore, that the moss
on which the animals live is more important to him than cereal
crops, and that the highest form of Lapp art finds expression
in the carving of reindeer bones. Photographs by the Author.
Some little time ago I was in Sweden, and was strongly advised by my
friends to take the opportunity of visiting Lapland, that strange
country of reindeer and semi-savages. I was given a letter of
introduction to a certain Lapp magnate, who, I was assured, was the
most educated and advanced person in the country, and who would see
that I saw everything worth seeing. “Go and interview him,” said my
informant, “though I cannot promise that you will be able to get him
to talk. The Lapps are very reticent; they will never tell you, for
instance, how many reindeer they possess. Mickel Nilsson Nia, to whom I
am giving you this letter of recommendation, is wealthy and educated,
yet he covers himself with reindeer skins like the humblest of his
herdsmen, drinks the warm blood of the animal he kills, and thinks no
dish more succulent than a sort of cake made of reindeer blood mixed
with flour! He is a splendid specimen of a people who have at once
assimilated and resisted civilization.”
I began to think it might be worth my while to visit these curious
folk, and in pursuit of information sought out another acquaintance, a
colonel in the Swedish army.
He told me that the Lapps are very fond of stimulating drinks; they
think nothing of drinking fifteen or twenty cups of coffee a day, while
their consumption of punch is on a vast scale. It is no uncommon thing
to see numbers of helplessly drunk natives in the streets of Tromsö,
especially when the sale of reindeer flesh has been profitable. Yet
robbery and, indeed, crime in general are practically unknown among
them; the innate honesty of the people is quite extraordinary. The
colonel gave me an example. “As, perhaps, you may have heard,” he said,
“I am very keen on hunting both the wolf and the bear. On one occasion,
accompanied by a Laplander, I was out after an enormous she-wolf, but
the animal succeeded in completely baffling us. Finally, despairing of
success, I abandoned the pursuit. A few days subsequently I was much
surprised to receive a visit from my Lapp. With him he brought the
wolf’s skin, which he insisted on my accepting; he had come up with
the creature and killed it after a long, weary chase of many hours.
I told him that the skin belonged to him, but he would listen to no
argument. ‘You must be paid back for the trouble you have had,’ he kept
repeating, with a smile. ‘It would not be fair for me to keep all the
advantage for myself.’
[Illustration: A LAPP MOTHER AND CHILD IN HOLIDAY ATTIRE--SO TIGHTLY
SWATHED IS THE INFANT IN ITS CURIOUS “CASE” THAT IT SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE
FOR THE POOR LITTLE MITE TO GROW.
_From a Photograph._]
“But go to the country and see things for yourself,” concluded my
friend. “Try and speak with Mickel Nilsson Nia; but, above all things,
make up your mind to practise patience. Nobody in Lapland appreciates
the value of time in the slightest degree; a Lapp thinks nothing of
turning up at an appointment six hours too soon or six hours too late.
You must also be careful to be invariably most scrupulously polite to
them. Their pride is boundless; they are persuaded they are almost
divine. Their account of their origin is that, God having decided to
submerge the world in the Deluge, everything living was drowned by the
heavy rain, with the exception of two Laplanders, a man and a woman.
These two God took under his charge and led to Vasso-Varra, where the
couple separated, the man proceeding in one direction, the woman in
another. For three years they pursued their respective paths, and at
the end of that time found themselves again at Vasso Varra. On their
travels neither had encountered a living soul. Three separate times did
they repeat the experience. When nine years had elapsed they came to
the conclusion that in the whole world they were the only inhabitants,
and consequently they decided to marry one another. They had a very
large family, and to-day the whole earth is peopled with their
children; those who do not live in Lapland are degenerates!”
[Illustration: A TYPICAL LAPP PEASANT.
_From a Photograph._]