A BANK FRAUD.
He drank strong waters and his speech was coarse; He purchased raiment and forebore to pay; He struck a trusting junior with a horse, And won Gymkhanas in a doubtful way. Then, 'twixt a vice and folly, turned aside To do good deeds and straight to cloak them, lied.
The Mess Room.
If Reggie Burke were in India now, he would resent this tale being told;but as he is in Hong-Kong and won't see it, the telling is safe. He wasthe man who worked the big fraud on the Sind and Sialkote Bank. He wasmanager of an up-country Branch, and a sound practical man with a largeexperience of native loan and insurance work. He could combine thefrivolities of ordinary life with his work, and yet do well. ReggieBurke rode anything that would let him get up, danced as neatly as herode, and was wanted for every sort of amusement in the Station.
As he said himself, and as many men found out rather to their surprise,there were two Burkes, both very much at your service. "Reggie Burke,"between four and ten, ready for anything from a hot-weather gymkhana toa riding-picnic; and, between ten and four, "Mr. Reginald Burke, Managerof the Sind and Sialkote Branch Bank." You might play polo with him oneafternoon and hear him express his opinions when a man crossed; and youmight call on him next morning to raise a two-thousand rupee loan on afive hundred pound insurance-policy, eighty pounds paid in premiums. Hewould recognize you, but you would have some trouble in recognizing him.
The Directors of the Bank--it had its headquarters in Calcutta and itsGeneral Manager's word carried weight with the Government--picked theirmen well. They had tested Reggie up to a fairly severe breaking-strain.They trusted him just as much as Directors ever trust Managers. You mustsee for yourself whether their trust was misplaced.
Reggie's Branch was in a big Station, and worked with the usualstaff--one Manager, one Accountant, both English, a Cashier, and a hordeof native clerks; besides the Police patrol at nights outside. Thebulk of its work, for it was in a thriving district, was hoondi andaccommodation of all kinds. A fool has no grip of this sort of business;and a clever man who does not go about among his clients, and knowmore than a little of their affairs, is worse than a fool. Reggie wasyoung-looking, clean-shaved, with a twinkle in his eye, and a headthat nothing short of a gallon of the Gunners' Madeira could make anyimpression on.
One day, at a big dinner, he announced casually that the Directors hadshifted on to him a Natural Curiosity, from England, in the Accountantline. He was perfectly correct. Mr. Silas Riley, Accountant, was a MOSTcurious animal--a long, gawky, rawboned Yorkshireman, full of thesavage self-conceit that blossom's only in the best county in England.Arrogance was a mild word for the mental attitude of Mr. S. Riley. Hehad worked himself up, after seven years, to a Cashier's position in aHuddersfield Bank; and all his experience lay among the factories of theNorth. Perhaps he would have done better on the Bombay side, where theyare happy with one-half per cent. profits, and money is cheap. He wasuseless for Upper India and a wheat Province, where a man wants a largehead and a touch of imagination if he is to turn out a satisfactorybalance-sheet.
He was wonderfully narrow-minded in business, and, being new to thecountry, had no notion that Indian banking is totally distinct fromHome work. Like most clever self-made men, he had much simplicity in hisnature; and, somehow or other, had construed the ordinarily polite termsof his letter of engagement into a belief that the Directors had chosenhim on account of his special and brilliant talents, and that they setgreat store by him. This notion grew and crystallized; thus adding tohis natural North-country conceit. Further, he was delicate, sufferedfrom some trouble in his chest, and was short in his temper.
You will admit that Reggie had reason to call his new Accountant aNatural Curiosity. The two men failed to hit it off at all. Rileyconsidered Reggie a wild, feather-headed idiot, given to Heaven onlyknew what dissipation in low places called "Messes," and totally unfitfor the serious and solemn vocation of banking. He could never getover Reggie's look of youth and "you-be-damned" air; and he couldn'tunderstand Reggie's friends--clean-built, careless men in the Army--whorode over to big Sunday breakfasts at the Bank, and told sultry storiestill Riley got up and left the room. Riley was always showing Reggiehow the business ought to be conducted, and Reggie had more than once toremind him that seven years' limited experience between Huddersfield andBeverly did not qualify a man to steer a big up-country business. ThenRiley sulked and referred to himself as a pillar of the Bank and acherished friend of the Directors, and Reggie tore his hair. If a man'sEnglish subordinates fail him in this country, he comes to a hard timeindeed, for native help has strict limitations. In the winter Riley wentsick for weeks at a time with his lung complaint, and this threw morework on Reggie. But he preferred it to the everlasting friction whenRiley was well.
One of the Travelling Inspectors of the Bank discovered these collapsesand reported them to the Directors. Now Riley had been foisted on theBank by an M. P., who wanted the support of Riley's father, who, again,was anxious to get his son out to a warmer climate because of thoselungs. The M. P. had an interest in the Bank; but one of the Directorswanted to advance a nominee of his own; and, after Riley's father haddied, he made the rest of the Board see that an Accountant who was sickfor half the year, had better give place to a healthy man. If Riley hadknown the real story of his appointment, he might have behaved better;but knowing nothing, his stretches of sickness alternated with restless,persistent, meddling irritation of Reggie, and all the hundred ways inwhich conceit in a subordinate situation can find play. Reggie used tocall him striking and hair-curling names behind his back as a relief tohis own feelings; but he never abused him to his face, because he said:"Riley is such a frail beast that half of his loathsome conceit is dueto pains in the chest."
Late one April, Riley went very sick indeed. The doctor punched himand thumped him, and told him he would be better before long. Then thedoctor went to Reggie and said:--"Do you know how sick your Accountantis?" "No!" said Reggie--"The worse the better, confound him! He's aclacking nuisance when he's well. I'll let you take away the Bank Safeif you can drug him silent for this hot-weather."
But the doctor did not laugh--"Man, I'm not joking," he said. "I'll givehim another three months in his bed and a week or so more to die in.On my honor and reputation that's all the grace he has in this world.Consumption has hold of him to the marrow."
Reggie's face changed at once into the face of "Mr. Reginald Burke," andhe answered:--"What can I do?"
"Nothing," said the doctor. "For all practical purposes the man is deadalready. Keep him quiet and cheerful and tell him he's going to recover.That's all. I'll look after him to the end, of course."
The doctor went away, and Reggie sat down to open the evening mail. Hisfirst letter was one from the Directors, intimating for his informationthat Mr. Riley was to resign, under a month's notice, by the terms ofhis agreement, telling Reggie that their letter to Riley would followand advising Reggie of the coming of a new Accountant, a man whom Reggieknew and liked.
Reggie lit a cheroot, and, before he had finished smoking, he hadsketched the outline of a fraud. He put away--"burked"--the Directorsletter, and went in to talk to Riley, who was as ungracious as usual,and fretting himself over the way the bank would run during his illness.He never thought of the extra work on Reggie's shoulders, but solely ofthe damage to his own prospects of advancement. Then Reggie assured himthat everything would be well, and that he, Reggie, would confer withRiley daily on the management of the Bank. Riley was a little soothed,but he hinted in as many words that he did not think much of Reggie'sbusiness capacity. Reggie was humble. And he had letters in his deskfrom the Directors that a Gilbarte or a Hardie might have been proud of!
The days passed in the big darkened house, and the Directors' letter ofdismissal to Riley came and was put away by Reggie, who, every evening,brought the books to Riley's room, and showed him what had been goingforward, while Riley snarled. Reggie d
id his best to make statementspleasing to Riley, but the Accountant was sure that the Bank was goingto rack and ruin without him. In June, as the lying in bed told on hisspirit, he asked whether his absence had been noted by the Directors,and Reggie said that they had written most sympathetic letters, hopingthat he would be able to resume his valuable services before long. Heshowed Riley the letters: and Riley said that the Directors ought tohave written to him direct. A few days later, Reggie opened Riley'smail in the half-light of the room, and gave him the sheet--not theenvelope--of a letter to Riley from the Directors. Riley said he wouldthank Reggie not to interfere with his private papers, specially asReggie knew he was too weak to open his own letters. Reggie apologized.
Then Riley's mood changed, and he lectured Reggie on his evil ways:his horses and his bad friends. "Of course, lying here on my back, Mr.Burke, I can't keep you straight; but when I'm well, I DO hope you'llpay some heed to my words." Reggie, who had dropped polo, and dinners,and tennis, and all to attend to Riley, said that he was penitent andsettled Riley's head on the pillow and heard him fret and contradict inhard, dry, hacking whispers, without a sign of impatience. This at theend of a heavy day's office work, doing double duty, in the latter halfof June.
When the new Accountant came, Reggie told him the facts of the case, andannounced to Riley that he had a guest staying with him. Riley said thathe might have had more consideration than to entertain his "doubtfulfriends" at such a time. Reggie made Carron, the new Accountant, sleepat the Club in consequence. Carron's arrival took some of the heavy workoff his shoulders, and he had time to attend to Riley's exactions--toexplain, soothe, invent, and settle and resettle the poor wretch inbed, and to forge complimentary letters from Calcutta. At the end of thefirst month, Riley wished to send some money home to his mother. Reggiesent the draft. At the end of the second month, Riley's salary came injust the same. Reggie paid it out of his own pocket; and, with it, wroteRiley a beautiful letter from the Directors.
Riley was very ill indeed, but the flame of his life burnt unsteadily.Now and then he would be cheerful and confident about the future,sketching plans for going Home and seeing his mother. Reggie listenedpatiently when the office work was over, and encouraged him.
At other times Riley insisted on Reggie's reading the Bible and grim"Methody" tracts to him. Out of these tracts he pointed morals directedat his Manager. But he always found time to worry Reggie about theworking of the Bank, and to show him where the weak points lay.
This in-door, sick-room life and constant strains wore Reggie down agood deal, and shook his nerves, and lowered his billiard-play by fortypoints. But the business of the Bank, and the business of the sick-room,had to go on, though the glass was 116 degrees in the shade.
At the end of the third month, Riley was sinking fast, and had begunto realize that he was very sick. But the conceit that made him worryReggie, kept him from believing the worst. "He wants some sort of mentalstimulant if he is to drag on," said the doctor. "Keep him interested inlife if you care about his living." So Riley, contrary to all the lawsof business and the finance, received a 25-per-cent, rise of salary fromthe Directors. The "mental stimulant" succeeded beautifully. Riley washappy and cheerful, and, as is often the case in consumption, healthiestin mind when the body was weakest. He lingered for a full month,snarling and fretting about the Bank, talking of the future, hearing theBible read, lecturing Reggie on sin, and wondering when he would be ableto move abroad.
But at the end of September, one mercilessly hot evening, he rose up inhis bed with a little gasp, and said quickly to Reggie:--"Mr. Burke, Iam going to die. I know it in myself. My chest is all hollow inside, andthere's nothing to breathe with. To the best of my knowledge I have donenowt"--he was returning to the talk of his boyhood--"to lie heavy on myconscience. God be thanked, I have been preserved from the grosser formsof sin; and I counsel YOU, Mr. Burke...."
Here his voice died down, and Reggie stooped over him.
"Send my salary for September to my mother.... done great things withthe Bank if I had been spared.... mistaken policy.... no fault of mine."
Then he turned his face to the wall and died.
Reggie drew the sheet over Its face, and went out into the verandah,with his last "mental stimulant"--a letter of condolence and sympathyfrom the Directors--unused in his pocket.
"If I'd been only ten minutes earlier," thought Reggie, "I might haveheartened him up to pull through another day."