"Knowledge is power;" not only a power to execute, but a power for salvation; and when her light shall be sufficiently diffused, all such crafts as these bogus lottery swindlers will "have had their day," and not before. I doubt somewhat that if all the newspapers of the land should, on some given week, publish each a full exposé of these swindles, and repeat the same every week, for a month, the majority of the victims would be saved. Many would; but some with their eyes opened, as far as facts could open them, would still be duped. The investigation of this bogus lottery business did more to weaken my respect for the good sense of my fellow-men in general, than had all the experiences of my life theretofore. But I find I am tempted on beyond the limits I had set for myself in this article. The subject is an interesting one to me, and I may return to it at another time, and to some of its phases not here commented upon.
THE BORROWED DIAMOND RING.
THE DETECTIVE OFFICER'S CHIEF "INCUBUS"—AT WINTER GARDEN THEATRE—"HARRY DUBOIS"—AN EXPERT ROGUE EXAMINES HIS PROSPECTIVE VICTIMS—SOME SOUTHERNERS—HARRY "INTRODUCES" HIMSELF IN HIS OWN PECULIAR AND ADROIT WAY—HARRY AND HIS FRIEND ARE INVITED TO THE SOUTHERNERS' PRIVATE BOX—HARRY "BORROWS" MR. CLEMENS' DIAMOND RING, AND ADROITLY ESCAPES—MY DILEMMA—VISIT TO HARRY'S OLD BOARDING MISTRESS—HIS WHEREABOUTS DISCOVERED—ACTIVE WORK—A RAPID DRIVE TO PINE STREET—A FORTUNATE LIGHT IN THE OFFICE OF THE LATE HON. SIMEON DRAPER—A SUDDEN VISIT FOR A "SICK MAN" TO HARRY'S ROOM—HOW ENTRANCE WAS EFFECTED—THE RING SECURED—HUNT FOR MR. CLEMENS—A SLIGHTLY MYSTERIOUS LETTER—A HAPPY INTERVIEW.
Just before the late war broke out, and the Winter Garden Theatre being in its prime, my friend, Henry C. P., of New Haven, Conn., being in town, urged me to accompany him there one night to see the play. The house was quite crowded with a more than usually fashionable set of play-goers, many being from different parts of the land, visitors for a time in New York. No matter where I go, to theatre, court, or church, along Broadway crowded with its vast moving tides of humanity, or through the streets of some half-deserted hamlet, my mind is ever on my business; rather, ever pondering on the craft and crime of society, symbols of which, in more or less emphatic shape, I am ever liable to see. It is one of the greatest vexations which the detective suffers, that the nature of his business is such that he can never fully liberate his thoughts from dwelling upon the frailties, the follies, and particularly the crimes, petty and felonious, of which so many of his fellow-men are constantly being guilty. Like an incubus of dread and darkness, these thoughts are ever weighing on his mind. He has no peace; and the only approximate peace he can win, is to let his thoughts drift on in the usual current, without attempting to direct them by his will. Consequently, that night, though for a while I enjoyed the play, studying its representations of human nature with some delight, and being not a little pleased with the beauty of sundry of the female dramatis personæ, who were rather above the average in personal graces, my eye was wandering over the parquet, family circle, etc., considerably. Hearing a slight noise in a part of the gallery, I observed that three young men, probably having a "prior engagement" to fill somewhere, were leaving the theatre,—a thing of no moment in itself, and which I should have forgotten on the instant, only that the vacancy they left enabled me to cast my eye a little farther on, when I discovered a character of much interest to me—a man elegantly apparelled, and having every outward semblance of a gentleman. At the moment my eye first rested on him there, he was peering into one of the boxes, and I saw him soon in the act of whispering some mystery, apparently, into the ear of the comrade who sat by his side. The latter person I did not know; but knowing the company he was in, I divined that some mischief was up, for the former person was no other than a man whom, in my detective career, I had several times encountered—an elegant, scheming fellow, who sometimes operated on Wall Street, kept an office at 34 Pine Street, as a real estate broker and money lender, etc., though he was seldom there, and was as skilful a juggler and pickpocket as any of whom New York could at that time boast. I could not, from my then position, well see into the boxes, so I changed my seat—through the courtesy of an old friend, who gave me his in exchange for mine—to a point where I could watch the boxes and the two elegant gentlemen, of whom I have spoken, without the latter's knowing the fact. As I have intimated, the season was gay. In one of the boxes sat two gentlemen and two ladies, the former evidently Southerners I judged, and so I thought the ladies to be also. They were quite richly dressed, and "sported" a large amount of richest jewelry. I was not at a loss, as soon as I had enjoyed a good view of them, as to the nature of the special concern which they had evidently awakened in the minds of the two worthies whom I was watching. I felt very sure that some plan was being devised by the latter two to make the acquaintance of the gentlemen, and, perhaps, the ladies in the box, with an eye to relieving them of some of their jewelry or money.
"Harry Dubois" was one of the aliases of the elegant rogue; his friend's name I knew not, and have never learned it. I was not surprised then, when, after a little polite leave-taking at the end of an act, and the gentlemen left their ladies in the box, to see Harry and friend leave their seats, and saunter out. Divining that the gentlemen had gone into the refreshment-room, I followed, disguising myself as I went out, by the assumption of a pair of spectacle bows, to which was attached a false nose quite unlike my own, in order that Harry might by no means discover me. I arrived in the refreshment-room, and had selected out my friends of the box before Harry and his friend, or "pal," came in. I had prepared my mind to expect some peculiarly stealthy, circumlocutory proceeding upon the part of Harry. Perhaps he would come only to "watch and wait" still longer; perhaps he would find there somebody, also, who knew the gentlemen of the box, and get a formal introduction. Indeed, I had conceived a half dozen modes of operation on his part, when, to my astonishment, Harry, having first cast a searching glance over the room, and giving his "pal" a knowing touch on the elbow, rushed, with all smiles upon his face, up to the apparently elder of the gentlemen of the box, who were at this moment lifting glasses of wine to their lips, and exclaimed, "Pardon me, Mr. Le Franc; but how do you do? I am exceedingly glad to see you! How long have you been on from New Orleans, my dear sir?"
The gentleman addressed looked with astonishment upon the elegantly attired Harry, whose face was the symbol of the frankest honesty and most certain refinement, and evidently "taken" by Harry's manner, replied, "My dear sir, there's a mistake here, for my name is not Le Franc; and truly, sir, I can never have known you, for I surely do not now, and if I had I should never have forgotten you."
"Upon my honor," said Harry, "I thought you were a Mr. Le Franc, of New Orleans. You look just like him, with whom, and others, I went on an excursion up to Donaldsonville, three years ago, at the invitation and expense of Bob McDonald."