The exploiting of these "counterfeit-money speculators" became so extensive that at one time complaints were received by the score daily—by the Mayor of New York, and others; and it was finally thought best to take some notice of them. Various means were employed to detect the scamps. One of the most active persons, and who urged their detection and punishment most earnestly, was a man who is, undoubtedly, a regular counterfeiter. This was natural enough, as the "speculators," as will be seen further on, were hurting his business. This man had relatives in Vermont, and in some way it became suspected that the "honest farmer," who sometimes visited to New York, and put up at the Bull's Head Hotel, on Third Avenue, bringing with him a blooded horse for sale now and then, was one of his relations. (But this proved not to be the case. He had been in his company, but was not related to him by blood, though slightly so, as the sequel will show, as a "business man.")
Circumstances so occurred in the ferreting out of some counterfeiters, that suspicion fell upon the "honest farmer" as one of their aids in the distribution or "shoving" of the "queer" (the flash or business name for counterfeit money), and it was thought that he was wanted. So I was delegated to wait on the gentleman "at or near" his residence.
He was in the habit of visiting Canada two or three times a year to buy up stock (cattle mostly), and import them into Vermont, and prepare them for market. This was one of his "side issues," as he said. When I arrived in his town I found he had gone to Canada, and that I should be obliged to wait a day or two for his return. Meanwhile I made as much investigation into the affairs of the old fellow (for he is a man of nearly sixty years of age) as I could safely; and from an enemy or two of his discovered enough to learn that he might be as guilty as he was suspected to be, and I prepared myself for "investigating" the old fellow on his return.
To go into details of how I approached the "honest farmer," and what progress I made in studying him as connected with the regular counterfeiting business, as an agent in distributing the "queer" in Vermont,—and somewhat in Canada, as was supposed,—would make my narrative too long. But I found at last, to my satisfaction, and surprise as well, that that W. P. R., the "honest farmer," had no connection with the business we suspected him to be engaged in. But I found also something which might have surprised me regarding a man of his general shrewdness, if I had not known many equally astute men made fools of.
The "honest farmer" had received, from time to time, letters like that which is quoted herein from Mr. "Ferguson." At first he paid no attention to them. Finally his speculative nature became whetted, and out of "pure curiosity," as he asserted to me so often as to excite my suspicions that he had far other motive, he entered into correspondence with the "New York gentlemen," which resulted in his sending to the speculators ten dollars in greenbacks, for which he was entitled, according to their offer, to receive one hundred dollars in counterfeit bills. He gave instructions as to how he would prefer to have it sent, namely, by express, in a square box, well wrapped and sealed up, and he stated about what size. His correspondents were instructed to write on the corner of the package, "One doz. Condition." (This, he said, would be understood by "the railroad folks," and his neighbors, if they saw it, to mean "Condition powders,"—medicine for horses.)
The box came to the railroad station near him. He was apprised of its arrival, and went for it himself. This was in the daytime, and he "wasted time" on his way home, so as to arrive in the night. ("Didn't want to let his folks know," he said, "how deuced foolish his curiosity had made him.") He drove under the "shed" attached to his "home barn," and quietly took the box down into a cellar of "the old house"—an old dilapidated, untenanted house, in which some of the products of the farm, and a few farm tools, and some old barrels were kept; and down into the cellar of the old house he went, and deposited there the box, and then went in, "washed up," and sat down with his family to supper.
After supper he was uneasy to investigate the package; and making an errand "to the barn," procured an old candle, and (forgetting the "barn") hastened into the cellar, managing to fasten the cellar door with a rope which he tied to the handle. He said he did this for fear somebody might see a light through an end "winder" of the cellar, and come down and "ketch" him at the "silly job;" but I have my suspicions that the "honest farmer" had other reasons than that of pride for his secrecy. He put the box on the head of an old barrel, and the candle on another, and began to unfold his treasures. Roll after roll of "old brown papers and newspapers" he cut off, and wadding them up, one after another, laid them on the head of the barrel on which stood the light, or threw them on the floor.
There was a marvelous waste of paper, he said, in "doin' up that 'are box." At last he came to the box (a small, oblong, wooden, affair which he showed me), which I should think to be about eight inches in length by four in width and depth, and the original use of which, if it had any, I could not conjecture. The cover was barely tacked on. Pulling off this, he presently came upon a few scraps of old iron, and a few bits of what he thought were paving stones, and not a single dollar of counterfeit money did his search reveal.
THE "HONEST" COUNTERFEIT MONEY SPECULATOR.