Uncle Sam, Detective

  II

  THE BANK WRECKER

  Billy Gard was not thinking of business at all. As a healthy,ultranormal young man, he was drowsing over his breakfast as one has away of doing when at peace with the world and when unaroused by any callof the present. He had reached the rolls and coffee stage of his meal ina spirit of detachment that took no account of the somewhat garishflashiness of the hotel dining-room in this typical hostelry of a citythat had become noted as a maker of industrial millionaires. Then as hisglance idly trailed among the other breakfasters, it automaticallypicked up an incident that flashed a light into his dormant brain andbrought it to full consciousness.

  A spoon had started from a grape fruit to the mouth of the tall,curly-haired man two tables away. Half way on its journey the hand whichheld it had twitched violently and spilled most of the contents. Thebrown eyes of the man stole out somewhat furtively to learn if anybodyhad noticed his nervousness.

  Special Agent Billy Gard now gazed at the ceiling, but his mind wasbusy. It was running over the facts that it contained with relation toBayard Alexander, who was this morning not himself and apprehensive lestthe fact be noticed. For Alexander was of the class of men of whom itwas his business to know. He was cashier of the Second National bank andUncle Sam keeps a pretty close watch on such institutions when theyhappen to be located in communities of feverish activity.

  So the special agent recalled that the tall man with the damp curls wasa moving spirit in the city, an important instrument in its development,a man of many philanthropies, personal friend of a United StatesSenator, cashier and active head of one of the most powerful financialinstitutions in the community. He was a man of very great energy, butone who led a normal, wholesome life and who, at the age of forty-five,seemed just coming into his stride. The bank examiner, Gard recalled,had steadily given the Second National a clean bill of health.

  Why, then, should Alexander be nervous and, granting him thatprivilege, why should he fear its being noticed?

  All of which was the seemingly illogical reason why Gard went toWheeling that very night and was not seen about the metropolis for aweek thereafter.

  "I am a poor man," he told Allen, the stout bank examiner, when they metin the West Virginia town. "Poor but honest and not trying to borrowmoney. I am on my way to the city of opportunity looking for a job."

  "You have come away that you might go back, as I understand it," saidAllen. "Couldn't you change your peacock raiment for a hand-me-downwithout coming to Wheeling?"

  "Yes, but I couldn't see you, Cherub," said Gard, "and you are to makeall things possible for me. You are to convert me from a dweller ingilded palaces to a bank bookkeeper out of work, but with credentials.

  "There is in Wheeling a bank cashier of your acquaintance," explainedthe special agent, "who used to work beside a bookkeeper whosefriendship I want to cultivate. You introduce me to the cashier, hefinds out what a really good fellow I am, we become friends. He givesme a letter of introduction to the man I want to meet. I return to thecity and thrust myself properly into the affairs of one Sloan,bookkeeper for the Second National. The next time the corpulent examinercomes around he gets the surprise of his life. Do you follow me?"

  Billy Gard had reached the conclusion that, if there was anything wrongwith Bayard Alexander's bank the examiner was being deceived and that,therefore, there must be a juggling of accounts. Bookkeeper CharleySloan of the individual ledgers occupied the post most likely to be usedfor deception, and so the special agent was taking a lot of trouble tomake the right opportunity for getting friendly with Charley. That mildlittle man was therefore favorably impressed when he was handed a letterfrom his former associate who had gone to Wheeling and become a cashier.The two visited so agreeably together that a friendship developed andGard came to live at the bookkeeper's boarding house. The twoaccountants grew to spend many evenings together and naturally talkedshop.

  "I had a friend," said Gard one evening, "who worked in a bank in NewOrleans. Next to him was a bookkeeper who went wrong. He was induced todo this by a depositor who had a scheme for making them both rich. Allthe depositor needed was a little money. So he proposed that he drawchecks against the bank and that the bookkeeper charge them temporarilyto other accounts. The depositor would cash the checks at other banksand, when they came in, the teller would merely turn them over to thebookkeeper, probably asking if there was money to meet them. In this waya depositor who never had a thousand dollars in the bank eventuallychecked out $50,000."

  "There was a teller," Sloan volunteered, "who worked in a bank here whoentered the deposits in the books of the people making them and put themoney in his pocket. There was no record of it except in the pass books.He got nearly all the money that came in for two months before he wasfound out."

  "There are a lot of ways in which a bookkeeper may hide the facts withrelation to a bank," continued the special agent. "It is pretty safe tocharge anything to the inactive account of an estate or an endowedinstitution. These are not often looked into. The accounts balance forthe examiner. I'll bet there isn't one bank in a dozen that doesn't foolthe examiner."

  "It's the easiest thing in the world," volunteered Sloan, "to take thenecessary number of leaves out of the loose-leaf ledger tocounterbalance it if the cash is short, and hide the leaves until theexaminer is gone."

  "Did you ever know that to be done?" abruptly asked the special agent.

  The bookkeeper colored to his temples and was noticeably confused at thequestion. Then he said he had heard of its being done. The sleuth wouldhave sworn he had led the bookkeeper into a confession.

  Nothing was more natural than that these two bank bookkeepers shouldrecur occasionally to the possibility of so arranging accounts that werein questionable condition that they would be passed by the examiner.Gard would lead to this in such a way that the bookkeeper would seem tohave begun these discussions. Then he would talk freely. He would tellso many stories that the timid Sloan would want to relate a few infurnishing his part of the entertainment. But Gard knew that thebookkeeper was a man without imagination and that he could relate onlywhat had happened in his experience. So he was all ears when Sloan onenight gave his opinions on the subject of kiting.

  "Of course," he said, "all banks have depositors who kite their checksand thereby get hold of money which they may use for a week before theyhave to make good. A depositor may turn in a check for a thousanddollars, drawn on a New York bank where he has no money. At the sametime he sends the New York bank a check for the same amount, drawn onyou. This causes the New York bank to honor the check drawn against it.The check drawn on you has to find its way through the clearing houseand it will be a week before it gets back. In the meantime the depositorhas had the use of a thousand dollars.

  "But when it comes to real kiting," continued the bookkeeper, "it is thebanks themselves that do it. If a bank has a sudden call for $100,000and hasn't the money, all it has to do is to send a messenger with acheck to a friendly bank around the corner. The messenger gets the wholeamount in cash. It appears as an asset of the bank. It will be two orthree days before the check will come back through the clearing houseand appear as a liability, or the friendly bank may hold it up evenlonger. The banks may be swapping this sort of favors. The bank examinerdoes not know of the outstanding check. He is out of town before itappears."

  Special Agent Billy Gard was again practically certain that he had herebeen told a chapter out of the experience of the Second National. Hebegan to see his way clear to a denouement.

  That same night events were transpiring of which he was to know a weeklater but which as yet were held in confidence among the directors ofthe Second National. They took place at a meeting of these samedirectors called by a minority which was dissatisfied with certainfeatures of its management. Director Hinton, a sprightly andquick-tempered little man, was the leader of the revolt. SenatorBothdoldt was present as a supporter of the management of the bank asrepresented by the suave, forceful cashier, Bayard Alexander,
whose handsometimes shook at breakfast.

  "I want to protest," Hinton began by launching directly into the heartof the matter in hand, "against this new loan to the McGrathConstruction Company. It has been three years now that we have beenpouring out our money to these people. We have $400,000 of their paperand I want to be shown that we can realize on it. It is time to call ahalt."

  "And there are the notes of the Oldman Mercantile Company," somewhatheatedly argued a second disaffected director. "I have been reliablyinformed within the last two days that they are in danger of going tothe wall."

  "And we, as directors, are responsible for the bank," said Mr. Isaacs,who was conservative.

  "I for one," said Mr. Hinton, "have reached the point where I insist ona new management. I would like to know the sentiment of the board uponthis question."

  But the cashier asked for a word of explanation. Broad-shouldered andupstanding he rose among these heavy, sleek, bald-headed business men.His high and intellectual brow and clear-cut features gave him adistinction that always made an impression. But the firm mouth and thedamp curls were those of a man of physical force and determination. Hisvoice was alluring and convincing as he made his plea and there was nowno tremble of the hand.

  He stated and called upon Senator Bothdoldt to witness that the McGrathConstruction Company had just received from the Government contracts forthe building of numerous locks in the Ohio River. He agreed with thespirit of conservatism of the board and shared it. He had heard therumors with relation to the Oldman Mercantile Company and had siftedthem to their depths and had found them without basis in fact. However,he had just called in a block of their notes. He painted a rosy pictureof the condition of the bank and the prospects of the future. Hereminded the directors that they had given him a free hand in the pastand pointed to the institution as a monument to his accomplishment. Atthe termination of which speech, so convincing and so dominant was thepersonality of the man, Director Hinton withdrew his protest and theinstitution was left under the former guidance.

  It was three days later that things began to happen. Gard had calledupon Bank Examiner Allen to come to his assistance. The two of them hadconferred the night before and settled upon a plan of campaign fortesting the stability of the affairs of the bank.

  It was in accordance with this plan that the rotund and genial Allenbreakfasted in that dining-room where the special agent's suspicions hadfirst been aroused. Bayard Alexander was at his usual table and Allenallowed the banker to see him although he appeared not to be aware ofit. It was also in accordance with the cards played by the men of theGovernment service that Special Agent Gard, still a bit seedy in hishand-me-down suit, was loafing on the sidewalk opposite the SecondNational bank when the cashier came to work. It was a part of his planthat he should see as much as possible of what went on in theinstitution when the word was passed that the examiner was in town.

  Gard was not surprised, therefore, when a messenger emerged from thebank and hurried off down the street. He believed that the story of thebookkeeper of the kiting bank was to be enacted before his eyes. Hefollowed the messenger to another bank two blocks away and there sawhim present a check. Gard crowded in on the pretense of getting a billchanged and saw blocks of bills of large denominations being taken fromthe vault. The messenger hurried back to the bank with them. It wasevident that that institution was making ready for the coming of theexaminer. It was as evident that its affairs were not as they should beor this preparation would not be necessary.

  It was a part of the program that when Sloan, the bookkeeper, came outof the bank for lunch, Gard should be waiting for him. It was notunusual that they thus went to their noonday meal together.

  "Will you do me a favor?" asked Sloan while they were at lunch. "Takecare of this package for me. It is a large photograph, rolled, that Ihave just received from home. Please be careful of it."

  The special agent assumed charge of the package which looked not unlikea roll of music. Later he found his suspicions justified for in the rollwere a number of leaves from the bank's individual ledger. Gard wasappalled at the amount of money that they represented. He carefullyphotographed them and returned them that night to the bookkeeper.

  No pretext was omitted for getting a look into what was transpiring inthe Second National bank on this particular day. Examiner Allen hadcalled in the afternoon and had carefully looked over the balances. Allappeared to be in order and no discrepancies were revealed. The bankseemed particularly strong from the standpoint of cash on hand.

  It was just at closing time that two things happened. Gard presentedhimself at the Second National and asked to see the cashier. He hadbecome known there as an associate of Sloan's. He was looking for aposition as bookkeeper and it was for this he came. He waited.

  It often happens that an individual may wander unannounced into quartersthe privacy of which are ordinarily closely guarded. Gard found the dooropen that led into the corridor off of which were to be found theoffices of the officials of the bank. He walked in and wandered down therow until he found that of the cashier. This he entered and foundentirely empty. It was a spacious room with a big, flat-topped desk.Across one corner of this was thrown a coat, and a hat rested upon it.An open traveling bag stood on the table.

  The special agent, by leaning on the table in the attitude of waiting,could look into the bag. There he saw a package of what he recognized asa well-known issue of industrial bonds which the examiner had listed asone of the chief assets of the bank. It should have been in the bank'svaults, instead of which it was in the cashier's traveling bag. This wasa discovery well worth consideration.

  Cashier Alexander entered the room hurriedly from another part of thebank. He was visibly startled to find some one present and demandedbruskly what the intruder was doing there.

  "I am a bookkeeper, sir," said the special agent very humbly. "Sloan isa friend of mine and thought you might employ me."

  "I can't talk to you to-night. Come around next week."

  "But may I not come to-morrow?" said Gard.

  "I will be out of town for three days," Alexander said finally. "Ican't talk to you until after that."

  The special agent took his dismissal. He had learned that the bankcashier was going away and that he was taking a package of the bank'smost valuable securities with him. He was going some distance for thetrip was to last three days. His destination was probably New York.

  Meantime the genial examiner had rolled in upon the bank to which theSecond National had sent its messenger, at about closing time. He hadasked to see the transactions of the day. Among these was found therecord of the check that had been cashed early in the morning. It wasthe personal check of Bayard Alexander and was for $125,000.

  The two representatives of the Federal Government conferred hurriedly.

  "And the securities," questioned Gard. "Were they intact when you wereat the bank this morning?"

  "Everything was in order," replied Allen.

  "The package of the industrials. What was its value?"

  "About $500,000," replied the examiner.

  "Alexander is leaving to-night with these securities. He may be takingthe $125,000 in cash with him. The time has come for his arrest.Particularly must we guard those assets and prevent any unnecessarydemands upon the bank."

  "He may be making a run for Canada," said Allen.

  "The securities will take him to New York that he may realize uponthem," was Gard's deduction. "I am for the station and will follow himif he takes any train. You try for his trail about town and report to methere."

  But after all it was a piece of luck that saved the day for Gard. He wasracing for the station in a taxicab when his machine was halted at acrossing. Another taxicab pulled up beside his, waited a minute, twominutes. He could see the driver from where that individual sat not sixfeet away and just opposite his window. Presently this chauffeur bentdown to get instructions from his fare. The man in the taxicab wastalking quietly, but so near was he to the special a
gent that he couldbe easily overheard.

  "Get out of this jam," he was saying. "Cut across town to the Northside station. We have already missed the 6:15. If you head it off at theNorth side it is worth a twenty-dollar bill to you."

  The voice was smooth and unruffled. Yet it was dominant. It set thedriver immediately upon edge and into motion. And there was in it afamiliar note that puzzled the detective for a moment, then brought backthe interview of the afternoon. Yes, it was Bayard Alexander talking.

  It was hard luck that caused a crossing policeman to let the firstautomobile through and shut off the second. It was the worst sort ofluck that caused the special agent to arrive at the North side stationjust as the gate was slammed and made it necessary for him to producecredentials to get through. He was barely able to swing into thevestibule of a sleeper as the train was getting under way. It wasparticularly hazardous from the standpoint of accomplishing the end hehad in mind, for he did not even know if Alexander was aboard and facedthe danger of having ridden away on the fastest train to New York andleft his work behind him. Even if the man he was after was aboard therewas the chance that he had become aware of the chase and would takeprecaution to out-wit him.

  But now there was no hurry. His man was or was not on the train and theporter told him there would be no stop for two hours. The special agentwas still a good deal of a youngster with an appreciation of thedramatic and here was a situation that appealed to him. He wondered ifhe were riding into the dusk on a wild goose chase, or if he hadcornered this fugitive master-crook, with a traveling bag containinghalf a million dollars of other peoples' money. He pictured the man hewas after--the suave, confident, stealthy cashier, who had stolen hishundreds of thousands and had, by the very force of him, compelled hissubordinates to hide his shortcomings. He wondered if this man of actionwas expecting pursuit or if he was riding on in confidence of being ableto make his escape. He thought of the satchel that the cashier carriedand of his responsibility, as a Government agent, for safeguarding itscontents. It was something of an assignment for a youngster.

  "And Mother used to say to me," grinned Billy to himself, "when shesent me around the corner for a dozen eggs: 'Do be careful to bring backthe change, and for goodness' sake don't drop the bag.' I wish Mothercould see me now."

  Whereupon William H. Gard of the United States Department of Justicearose and went to the front of the train. From this point he workedsteadily back, making sure that he saw every passenger, looking eachover with sufficient scrutiny that a disguise would not have escapedhim, making sure that the man he sought was in the portion of the trainto the rear. It began to look as though he had actually boarded a trainwhich the fugitive had failed to catch.

  Dark was just coming on. It was that hour when most of the passengers ona train are to be found in the diner. It happened that this train wasrunning light and now the sleepers were practically deserted but for thenodding porters. Through one after another of these the special agentpassed until there remained only the observation car at the end. It washere that he would find his quarry or prove himself outwitted.

  When he came into the observation car through the narrow hall thatleads to it, a lounging figure by the door drew itself taut.Instinctively it put its hand to a traveling bag that rested on the nextchair. Then it remained still.

  The special agent came direct down the car and went immediately to thetask in hand.

  "You are Bayard Alexander," he said, "and my prisoner."

  The cashier was, after all, surprised. He was not aware that he wasbeing followed. He sprang forward in his chair but met the glint of apistol in the hand of the special agent.

  "And you? Oh, I see!" said the cashier, recovering himself. "Thebookkeeper was not a bookkeeper after all."

  "I am an agent of the Department of Justice," said Gard. "You are underarrest."

  The tall figure of the cashier had risen from its chair. To thetraveling bag he clung instinctively. The situation seemed entirely inthe control of the special agent with gun drawn and the retreat cut off.Yet, like a flash, the cashier turned the knob of the door that led outupon the rear platform of the observation car. The gun of the specialagent spit forth a flame, but whether he had intended to bring down hisman or not he was afterward quite unable to recall.

  But with a leap he was after and upon the fugitive. He suspected theintent of the cashier to throw himself from the train, to end all insuicide. He saw the traveling bag getting beyond his reach. It was thelast thing that would have appealed to him to stand idly by while suchincidents were taking place.

  The two men grappled. A new purpose flashed into the mind of thecashier. Here was he given an unexpected opportunity for freedom. Onlythe special agent stood in his way. If he could but drop this youngsterover the rail, suicide would be unnecessary. A new purpose came into histall, lithe form. It was to be put to the task of fighting for its ownpreservation.

  And such a setting for a fight! The clamor of the train beat into theblood of the contestants like the applause of an arena. The swish of theplatform as the express dashed through the darkness at seventy miles anhour made the ordinary strategy of battle uncertain. Beyond the narrowrail that skirted this platform upon which their fight was staged deathwaited expectant on three sides. There were now no weapons and thecontestants went back to the primal in a tooth and fang grapple forexistence as might two frenzied bears at bay.

  The cashier was the larger man and one who had always kept in conditionthrough gymnasium work. The special agent was lither and younger. Thelarger man was determined that he would thrust the smaller over the railand fling him from the train. He fought his way to the edge of theplatform, forcing his antagonist farther and farther over it, hammeringhim down by the sheer superiority of weight and strength.

  But all the time the special agent was playing to his own advantage. Hewas getting low beneath the guard of the cashier. His arms had found aniron lock beneath his antagonist's coat and about his waist. He feltthat this hold could not be broken and that a time would come when thestrength of the larger man would wane. He could afford to wait.

  It was but a swish of the train that gave him the slight advantage hesought in taking the aggressive. It swayed the tall form of his enemyas it towered above him a little backward. This put the spine in aposition where it could not immediately resist a strong pressure.Already he had felt a give in the body muscles that meant the firstapproach of weakness. Like a flash his head was in the tall man's chest,all his strength was in his arms, and he was administering thattreatment known in his youth as the "Indian hug." Slowly he overcame hisantagonist, bent him back, and they came tumbling among the chairs ofthe observation platform.

  From the fall came a new grip to the advantage of the special agent. Asthey went down he flung his legs around his antagonist, and was able toget the wrestler's "scissors" about his waist, thus applying pressurewhere there was already exhaustion and allowing his legs, which wererested, to bear the brunt.

  Thus were they locked when the brakeman came to the rear and found them.But the battle was already near its end. For the flash of a moment thecashier rallied and acted. In that moment his hands seized and flungfrom the train the grip with its precious burden. Then he sank intounconsciousness.

  Billy Gard had ridden back to the section of the road where thetraveling bag had gone overboard, and had waited for the coming ofdaylight to search for it. In the gray dawn he walked down the track andmet an Irish section man, who had already picked it up.

  "I see you have found my satchel," said Gard, accosting him.

  "Your satchel it may be," said the Irishman, "but you will have to beafter tellin' me what's in it by way of identification."

  "Nothing much beside half a million dollars," said the special agent,proffering the key.

  The man who had found the traveling bag looked inside and, as far asBilly Gard knows, never spoke again. He was still dumb with amazementwhen the young man drove away in his automobile.