Wanted! - ebook

Contents

1. THE STORY OF SOME REMARKABLE FRAUDS

2. A DYING CONFESSION

3. A RAILWAY MYSTERY

4. SPRINGTHORPE'S LAST FLUTTER

5. MRS. O'FLAGGERTY'S "JOOLS."

6. "OLD HURRICANE," THE GLASGOW FORGER

7. A GLASGOW CRIME

8. OUT OF HIS OWN MOUTH

9. A STRANGE CONSPIRACY

10. "DUMPY DICK," THE GLASGOW COINER

11. THE TINKER'S DOOM

12. THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND

13. THE HANGMAN'S PREY

14. THE LAST SHOT

15. A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

16. OLD JINKS'S MONEY

17. THE PRINCE OF SMASHERS

18. THE THREAD OF SILK

19. HOW THE BANK WAS SAVED

20. THE BARNFIELD MURDER CASE

21. THE STORY OF A CHRISTMAS FAIRY

22. TAKEN IN THE ACT1. THE STORY OF SOME REMARKABLE FRAUDS

ONE of the most conspicuous men in Edinburgh about a quarter of century ago was Mr. Christopher Gourlay, and there was no man whose society was more courted. He was conspicuous for many things, amongst them being good looks–indeed, he was often referred to as the handsomest man in Edinburgh; he also had a ready though somewhat rough wit; he could tell a capital story, sing a good song, was sociable, genial, and full of what the French expressively term _bonhomie._These things in themselves would have been sufficient to make any man popular; but, in addition, Mr. Gourlay seemed to be in possession of the purse of Fortunatus, consequently he was a power amongst his followers. Perhaps it was his seemingly unlimited resources that induced people to accept him for what he seemed, and not to trouble themselves about inquiring too closely into his antecedents. At this time Mr. Gourlay was in the very prime of life; that is, he was about forty. Now, there is little doubt that amongst the sycophants, fawners, and spongers who crowded round him there were many who could remember him when fifteen years before he had been a clerk in a firm of well-known lawyers, at a salary of not more than eighteen shillings a week. And had they not been afraid of losing his patronage and companionship, they might have asked how it was that in the comparatively short space of fifteen years he had risen from the position of an obscure clerk to a wealthy man about town. But though Mr. Gourlay affected an outspoken honesty and frankness, he knew how to conceal his thoughts, and keep his own affairs to himself.

While no word of suspicion was ever breathed against him, he was undoubtedly a mystery, and he evidently wished to remain so, for he never volunteered any statement about himself. This gentleman, upon whom nature and good fortune seemed to have smiled so sweetly, while much attached to those things that delight carnally, displayed a very proper regard for spiritual matters, and not only was he a constant churchgoer and a strict Sabbatarian, but he was regarded as one of the most liberal benefactors of the church. The fact that he was fond of horse- racing, passionately attached to the theatre, a _bon vivant,_that he played billiards for large sums of money, and held whist parties in his own house–when heavy amounts often changed hands–was not taken into consideration. He attended the church regularly on the “Sabbath,” and no appeal for church purposes was ever made to him that did not meet with a ready response. Tie displayed so much holiness on Sunday, that few thought of concerning themselves with his week-day doings.

I refer to this matter particularly because it serves not only to emphasize the man’s characteristics, but affords another example of the power wealth has to blunt men’s consciences and cause them to regard certain sins committed by the rich man as only venial, whereas the same sins on the part of a poor man would be looked upon as deadly.

Mr. Christopher Gourlay had built himself what was almost a palatial residence in one of the fashionable outskirts of Edinburgh. The house, which was replete with every modern luxury and comfort, and furnished with a sumptuousness that a prince might have envied, stood in something like ten acres of grounds. These grounds were almost unsurpassed for beauty, and the extensive greenhouses and hothouses, which required quite a little army of gardeners to look after them, were considered a sight worth seeing, and strangers were permitted to view them every Saturday on the presentation of their cards. The owner of this grand place kept seldom less than a dozen horses in his luxuriously appointed stables; and for his own particular use he had a brougham, which was a triumph of the coach-builder’s art. Of course, he kept other vehicles, but this particular brougham was so conspicuous that it never failed to attract attention when passing through the streets.

I have stated that Mr. Gourlay was passionately fond of the theatre. Not only was he a very liberal supporter of the places of public amusement, but he was generally mixed up with all the private theatricals that were given in the town. In his own house he had a miniature bijou theatre fitted up, which was probably unique in its way, and is worth describing. It was seated to hold about one hundred and fifty people. The walls were covered with quilted blue satin, over which were hung elegant looped-up lace curtains; while at intervals were magnificent oval mirrors with candelabra, and between the mirrors were costly vases for holding flowers. The seats were most luxurious spring chairs covered with blue velvet to match the wall decorations. The floor–over which was spread two thicknesses of Turkey carpet–sloped toward the stage, so that every seat commanded a perfect view. The roof was painted to represent an Italian sky, flecked with a few light fleecy clouds, and three or four gorgeous-plumaged birds on the wing. The proscenium was a work of art, and represented a massive carved picture-frame. The curtain was of the heaviest and costliest blue Genoa velvet, and all the appointments of the stage were perfect. Some of the scenery had been painted by artists of renown. One in particular is known at the present day the wide world over.

In this splendid little temple of the drama Mr. Gourlay was in the habit of performing some of his own pieces, for he affected dramatic literature, and was exceedingly ambitious of being known as a writer for the stage; but with one exception, and in spite of his wealth, he could not succeed in getting a piece from his own pen performed in a public theatre. It must not be supposed that a gentleman of such refined tastes, having so high a regard for dramatic art, was content to let his friends be bored with mere amateurs. He was in the habit of bringing to his house ladies who were celebrated as actresses. It will be noted that I only refer to ladies, for the fact is Mr. Gourlay had an especial weakness for theatrical ladies, and very rarely indeed invited gentlemen professionals. The ladies, too, were generally those who were noted for their youth and beauty, and it was no secret that this remarkably liberal patron of the drama was a devout worshipper at the shrine of beauty. He was, so far as was known, a bachelor, and it is not difficult to understand how such a man, under such circumstances, should be a sort of human magnetic pole that drew to him all marriageable womankind that came within his influence. But let not the inference from this remark be that Mr. Gourlay strictly confined his attentions to those ladies who had not yet entered the bonds of Hymen. As a matter of fact, his receptions were noted for the number of young and handsome married ladies who assembled at them. And it may at once be stated here that the female sex was always largely in excess at all Mr. Gourlay’s gatherings. In short, he displayed a decided partiality for the society of women in preference to that of men–he liked to reign a sole god amongst the goddesses.

There was one curious circumstance in connection with his home life that I must refer to. His mother lived with him, but her life was isolated from his. She never mixed with his company; never went out with him, never took her meals with him, and he was hardly ever known to speak to her, while she presented that remarkable phenomenon–a silent woman.

Mrs. Gourlay was about seventy, with a pleasant, rather patrician face, surmounted by a quantity of snow-white hair. This lady never received visitors, and made no calls; nor was she ever to be seen by visitors to the house. She had a carriage for her own use, and with great regularity she went for a daily drive of two hours. After that she retired to her own apartments, and was seen no more for the rest of the day, save by her own personal female servant. Mrs. Gourlay took no part whatever in the conduct of the household. That was entirely in the hands of a housekeeper, who had absolute and entire control. Mrs. Gourlay, in fact, was a mystery, and, since she never entered into conversation with any one, not even the servants, it seemed as if the mystery was not likely to be solved. The servant who attended to her was only a little younger than she was; and, like her mistress, she seemed to be under a vow of silence. At any rate, although she must have been aware of the intense curiosity that was evinced to know some particulars of the lady she served, she never volunteered any information, nor could any one draw her out. It was well understood amongst his acquaintances that any questions to Gourlay regarding his mother would have been resented as an unpardonable insult, so no one ventured to speak of the old lady to him. Curiosity, powerful quality as it is of the human mind, was stifled, rather than any risk should be run of losing the great man’s friendship. Such is the power of gold.

Of course it can readily be supposed that a gentleman of such unbounded popularity, and of such profuse generosity, and who, moreover, seemed to have unlimited wealth at his command, would be in great request for public offices. He might not only have been Provost, but an ALP to boot, for a constituency could easily have been found that would have sent him to the House of Commons with an enormous majority But he resolutely declined all offers and proposals that were made to him. He preferred the _dolce far niente_to the sweets of office. A love of pleasure was his weakness, and he revelled in luxury; and to be considered and known as an epicure and Sybarite was his sole ambition. The only business connection he had was a directorship of a small bank, and the management of the branch office of a very large and wealthy insurance office, the head-quarters of which were in London. He had been associated with the bank about thirteen years, but not all that time as a director, for he had commenced in the humble capacity of a ledger clerk. Two years later he became an agent for the insurance office, and very soon got the entire control and management of the concern.

It has been necessary for me to speak of Mr. Gourlay and his mode of life at some length and with a regard for detail, because by so doing I shall be able to make what follows more intelligible to the reader. At the period to which I am alluding Gourlay was in the zenith of his power and influence, so far as being able to attract people around him was concerned, and had any one at that time ventured to suggest he was not quite as honest as he might be, such a person would have subjected himself to a storm of indignation.

But now a curious thing happened. In the insurance office over which Mr. Gourlay ruled a man by the name of Richard Wheeler had been employed for a number of years as bookkeeper. In a general way he bore a good character; he was a married man with two children, but seemed to have a weakness for convivial society and horse-racing. Not that he indulged in the latter to any very considerable extent, but he had been known to lose as much as four and five hundred pounds at one fell swoop; and certain people naturally asked how a bookkeeper, who was dependent upon his salary, could afford to drop so much money and seem none the worse for it. The mystery, however, was explained one day when the rumour ran that Richard Wheeler had absconded, and that his books at the office showed serious defalcations. I received instructions to try and effect the arrest of Wheeler, and in order that I might get some particulars about him I waited upon Mr. Gourlay at his house. It was my first introduction to him, and the first time I had ever been on his premises. I knew him well enough by sight, but had never before spoken to him. I was struck by his affability and general charm of manner, no less than by the princely appointments of his house. But when we came to business he astonished me by a very evident reluctance to give me such information with regard to Wheeler as I deemed necessary.

“The fact is,” he said, “until the books have been thoroughly overhauled it is impossible to say whether Wheeler has robbed the Company or not. As far as I know at present, I don’t think he has.”

“Why has he bolted, then?” I asked, betraying the surprise I felt.

“That I cannot say. I can only conjecture.”

“But what are your conjectures, Mr. Gourlay?”

“Well, I don’t know that I ought to put them into words, in the absence of anything like proof, but I think you will find that domestic affairs have had something to do with his going away.”

The result of my interview with Mr. Gourlay, and of what he said, was that I called on Mrs. Wheeler, and found her in the greatest distress about her husband. But my questions elicited from her that her domestic life had been very happy. Nothing had ever occurred between her and her husband that would in any way account for his leaving her. She acknowledged that he was a reticent man, and, though he denied her and her children nothing, he did not make a confidante of her, and she knew little of his affairs.

I asked her if she had never felt surprise that her husband should have been able to keep up so much style on his salary as a bookkeeper, and she assured me that she had no idea what his salary was; and she was, moreover, under the impression that he won large sums of money on horse-racing.

Although there was nothing in the lady’s manner to warrant me in thinking she was deceiving me, I did not altogether feel satisfied. But, from what I saw of her, and what I heard from other sources, I came to the conclusion that she had purposely refrained from learning anything about her husband’s habits. She was content, perhaps, to believe that all was right; and, as long as she got what she wanted, she did not consider it policy to inquire too closely where it came from. Although I kept my thoughts to myself, I felt very far from satisfied with the spirit in which Mr. Gourlay had met me. As I have already said, I did not think that Mrs. Wheeler was deceiving me; in fact, I felt pretty sure that she was really in entire ignorance of her husband’s whereabouts.

It appeared that the information about Wheeler’s embezzlement had come from the head clerk of the office, a Mr. Philip Adair, and having failed to make anything of the manager, I turned my attention to Adair. He was a quiet, unostentatious man verging on sixty-five years of age. He had only been with the Company about two and a half years. He stepped into the position of a man who had died, and previous to getting that situation he had been a “policy clerk” in another insurance office, a post he had held for fifteen years.

I found that he, like the manager, was not disposed to be communicative, though it very soon came out that he had been cautioned by the manager not to say anything until the books had been thoroughly examined.

“But you do not withdraw your accusation against Wheeler?” I asked pointedly.

“Oh dear, no!”

“And there is no doubt about Wheeler having embezzled the funds of the Company?”

“None whatever.”

“Then why are you reluctant to give me all the information you are possessed of?”

“The fact is,” he answered, “after I had communicated with the police in the first instance, Mr. Gourlay was very angry with me.”

“But why angry with you?” I exclaimed.

“Well, he said it was no use making the affair public until we had fully ascertained the extent of Wheeler’s misdoings.”

“I thought you had already done so.”

“Not wholly so; and before I can do so it will be necessary to go through what we call our balance ledger, and check that with the bank pass-book, and both those books are under the control of Mr. Gourlay.”

“But surely it is to Mr. Gourlay’s interest to have the books examined immediately?” I remarked, my astonishment growing.

“I–don’t–know that it is,” answered Mr. Adair slowly, and with great stress on his words. I looked hard at him for some moments, trying to read his thoughts, and then I put this point-blank question–

“Do you suspect that Mr. Gourlay has some sinister motive in trying to screen Wheeler?”

“I am not prepared to say what I suspect,” was the answer. “My thoughts are my own, and nothing can compel me to utter them unless I like. You see, I am a servant, and an old man, and I cannot afford to lose my situation. You are a detective used to unravelling tangled skeins, and you must make the best of what I have said. If you succeed in arresting Wheeler, it may probably–I only say _probably_–be the means of bringing some startling facts to light.”

“I have but one more question to put at present,” I said. “Roughly speaking, what do you think the amount of Wheeler’s defalcations will tot up to?”

“As far as I can tell just now, I should say not far short of five or six thousand pounds. Indeed, it may be very much more than that. My own impression is the whole business wants thoroughly overhauling There is something rotten somewhere, but I am not going to say anything more.”

On leaving Mr. Adair I felt that he had afforded me food for reflection, and, though in the meantime my only business was to arrest Wheeler if possible, I could not help feeling that if the old man was correct in his surmises, matters certainly did want looking into. Knowing as I did, however, that Adair was liable to lose his situation if what he had said to me should reach the ears of Gourlay, who was to all intents and purposes his employer–for he had the power to discharge him at a week’s notice–I decided to keep my suspicions to myself for the time being.

Within a day or two, however, of that interview a new development took place in the arrival from London of one of the directors of the Company. This was Sir Thomas Aspden, a gentleman exceedingly well known in the financial world. He sent for me at once, and informed me that Mr. Gourlay had informed the Board of Wheeler’s embezzlement, but spoke lightly of it, saying that so far as could then be ascertained the amount purloined was trifling. On the strength of this, the directors would not have interfered in the matter, had it not been for an anonymous letter they had received, wherein they were strongly advised to institute a thorough investigation of all the affairs of the Edinburgh branch of the business, and above all the writer impressed upon them the necessity of using every possible means to effect Wheeler’s arrest.

I told Sir Thomas that I would do all I could, and promised to communicate with him as soon as I got any clue; but on the following day he sent me an urgent request to call upon him at once, and on my doing so, he told me that the huge balance ledger of the business was missing. Consequently, an investigation was rendered impossible.

“Whom do you suspect having removed it?” I asked.

“I don’t know what to say. Adair assures me that the ledger was in the strong-room just before Wheeler’s flight, and the strong-room is under the control of the manager.”

“That is of Mr. Gourlay?”

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