On Secret Service

by William Nelson Taft

  XXII

  "THE LOOTING OF THE C. T. C."

  There was a wintry quality in the night itself that made a comfortablechair and an open fire distinctly worth the payment of a luxury tax. Addto this the fact that the chairs in the library den of William J.Quinn--formerly "Bill Quinn, United States Secret Service"--were roomyand inviting, while the fire fairly crackled with good cheer, and you'llknow why the conversation, after a particularly good dinner on theevening in question, was punctuated by pauses and liberally interlardedwith silences.

  Finally, feeling that it was really necessary that I say something, Iremarked upon the fierceness of the wind and the biting, stinging sleetwhich accompanied a typical January storm.

  "Makes one long for Florida," I added.

  "Yes," agreed Quinn, "or even some point farther south. On a night likethis you can hardly blame a man for heading for Honduras, even if he didcarry away a quarter of a million of the bank's deposits with him."

  "Huh? Who's been looting the local treasury?" I asked, thinking that Iwas on the point of getting some advance information.

  "No one that I know of," came from the depths of Quinn's big armchair."I was just thinking of Florida and warm weather, and that naturally ledto Honduras, which, in turn, recalled Rockwell to my mind. Ever hear ofRockwell?"

  "Don't think I ever did. What was the connection between him and thequarter-million you mentioned?"

  "Quite a bit. Rather intimate, as you might say. But not quite as muchas he had planned. However, if it hadn't been for Todd--"

  "Todd?"

  "Yes--Ernest E. Todd, of the Department of Justice. 'Extra Ernest,' theyused to call him, because he'd never give up a job until he brought itin, neatly wrapped and ready for filing. More than one man has had causeto believe that Todd's parents chose the right name for him. He may nothave been much to look at--but he sure was earnest."

  * * * * *

  Take the Rockwell case, for example [Quinn went on, after a preliminarypuff or two to see that his pipe was drawing well]. No one had theslightest idea that the Central Trust Company wasn't in the best ofshape. Its books always balanced to a penny. There was never anything tocause the examiner to hesitate, and its officials were models ofpropriety. Particularly Rockwell, the cashier. Not only was he a pillarof the church, but he appeared to put his religious principles intopractice on the other six days of the week as well. He wasn't married,but that only boosted his stock in the eyes of the community, many ofwhich had daughters of an age when wedding bells sound very tuneful andorange blossoms are the sweetest flowers that grow.

  When they came to look into the matter later on, nobody seemed to knowmuch about Mr. Rockwell's antecedents. He'd landed a minor position inthe bank some fifteen years before and had gradually lifted himself tothe cashiership. Seemed to have an absolute genius for detail and thehandling of financial matters.

  So it was that when Todd went back home on a vacation and happened tolaunch some of his ideas on criminology--ideas founded on an intensivestudy of Lombroso and other experts--he quickly got himself into deepwater.

  During the course of a dinner at one of the hotels, "E. E." commenced toexpound certain theories relating to crime and the physical appearanceof the criminal.

  "Do you know," he inquired, "that it's the simplest thing in the worldto tell whether a man--or even a boy, for that matter--has criminaltendencies? There are certain unmistakable physical details that pointunerringly to what the world might call 'laxity of conscience,' butwhich is nothing less than a predisposition to evil, a tendency tocrime. The lobes of the ears, the height and shape of the forehead, thelength of the little finger, the contour of the hand--all these are ofimmense value in determining whether a man will go straight or crooked.Employers are using them more and more every day. The old-fashionedphrenologist, with his half-formed theories and wild guesses, has beendisplaced by the modern student of character, who relies upon certainrules which vary so little as to be practically immutable."

  "Do you mean to say," asked one of the men at the table, "that you cantell that a man is a criminal simply by looking at him?"

  "If that's the case," cut in another, "why don't you lock 'em all up?"

  "But it isn't the case," was Todd's reply. "The physical characteristicsto which I refer only mean that a man is likely to develop along thewrong lines. They are like the stars which, as Shakespeare remarked,'incline, but do not compel.' If you remember, he added, 'The fault,dear Brutus, lies in ourselves.' Therefore, if a detective of the modernschool is working on a case and he comes across a man who bears one ormore of these very certain brands of Cain, he watches that man verycarefully--at least until he is convinced that he is innocent. You can'tarrest a man simply because he looks like a crook, but it is amazing howoften the guideposts point in the right direction."

  "Anyone present that you suspect of forgery or beating his wife?" camein a bantering voice from the other end of the table.

  "If you're in earnest," answered the government agent, "lay your handson the table."

  And everyone present, including Rockwell, cashier of the Central TrustCompany, placed his hands, palm upward, on the cloth--though there was adistinct hesitation in several quarters.

  Slowly, deliberately, Todd looked around the circle of hands before him.Then, with quite as much precision, he scanned the faces andparticularly the ears of his associates. Only once did his gaze hesitatelonger than usual, and then not for a sufficient length of time to makeit apparent.

  "No," he finally said. "I'd give every one of you a clean bill ofhealth. Apparently you're all right. But," and he laughed, "remember, Isaid 'apparently.' So don't blame me if there's a murder committedbefore morning and one or more of you is arrested for it!"

  That was all there was to the matter until Todd, accompanied by two ofhis older friends, left the grill and started to walk home.

  "That was an interesting theory of yours," commented one of the men,"but wasn't it only a theory? Is there any real foundation of fact?"

  "You mean my statement that you can tell by the shape of a man's headand hands whether he has a predisposition to crime?"

  "Yes."

  "It's far from a theory, inasmuch as it has the support of hundreds ofcases which are on record. Besides, I had a purpose in springing it whenI did. In fact, it partook of the nature of an experiment."

  "You mean you suspected some one present--"

  "Not suspected, but merely wondered if he would submit to the test. Iknew that one of the men at the table would call for it. Some one in acrowd always does--and I had already noted a startling peculiarity aboutthe forehead, nose, and ears of a certain dinner companion. I merelywanted to find out if he had the nerve to withstand my inspection of hishands. I must say that he did, without flinching."

  "But who was the man?"

  "I barely caught his name," replied Todd, "and this conversation must bein strict confidence. After all, criminologists do not maintain thatevery man who looks like a crook is one. They simply state and provethat ninety-five per cent of the deliberate criminals, men who plantheir wrong well in advance, bear these marks. And the man who satacross the table from me to-night has them, to an amazing degree."

  "Across the table from you? Why that was Rockwell, cashier of theCentral Trust!"

  "Precisely," stated Todd, "and the only reason that I am making thisadmission is because I happen to know that both of you bank there."

  "But," protested one of the other men, "Rockwell has been with them foryears. He's worked himself up from the very bottom and had hundreds ofchances to make away with money if he wanted to. He's as straight as adie."

  "Very possibly he is," Todd agreed. "That's the reason that I warn youthat what I said was in strict confidence. Neither one of you is to saya word that would cast suspicion on Rockwell. It would be fatal to hiscareer. On the other hand, I wanted to give you the benefit of myjudgment, which, if you remember, you requested."

  But it did
n't take a character analyst to see that the Department ofJustice man had put his foot in it, so far as his friends wereconcerned. They were convinced of the cashier's honesty and no theoriesfounded on purely physical attributes could swerve them. They kept theconversation to themselves, but Todd left town feeling that he had lostthe confidence of two of his former friends.

  It was about a month later that he ran into Weldon, the Federal BankExaminer for that section of the country, and managed to make a fewdiscreet inquiries about Rockwell and the Central Trust Company without,however, obtaining even a nibble.

  "Everything's flourishing," was the verdict. "Accounts straight as astring and they appear to be doing an excellent business. Fairly heavyon notes, it's true, but they're all well indorsed. Why'd you ask? Anyreason to suspect anyone?"

  "Not the least," lied Todd. "It's my home town, you know, and I know alot of people who bank at the C. T. C. Just like to keep in touch withhow things are going. By the way, when do you plan to make your nextinspection?"

  "Think I'll probably be in there next Wednesday. Want me to say 'Hello'to anybody?"

  "No, I'm not popular in certain quarters," Todd laughed. "They say Ihave too many theories--go off half cocked and all that sort of thing."

  Nevertheless the Department of Justice operative arranged matters sothat he reached his home city on Tuesday of the following week,discovering, by judicious inquiries, that the visit of the examiner hadnot been forecast. In fact, he wasn't expected for a month or more. Butthat's the way it is best to work. If bank officials know when to lookout for an examiner, they can often fix things on their books whichwould not bear immediate inspection.

  Weldon arrived on schedule early the following morning, and commencedhis examination of the accounts of the First National, as was his habit.

  As soon as Todd knew that he was in town he took up his position outsidethe offices of the Central Trust, selecting a vantage point which wouldgive him a clear view of both entrances of the bank.

  "Possibly," he argued to himself, "I am a damn fool. But just the same,I have a mighty well-defined hunch that Mr. Rockwell isn't on the level,and I ought to find out pretty soon."

  Then events began to move even quicker than he had hoped.

  The first thing he noted was that Jafferay, one of the bookkeepers ofthe C. T. C., slipped out of a side door of the bank and dropped aparcel into the mail box which stood beside the entrance. Then, a fewminutes later, a messenger came out and made his way up the street tothe State National, where--as Todd, who was on his heels--had littletrouble in discovering--he cashed a cashier's check for one hundred andfifty thousand dollars, returning to the Central Trust Company with themoney in his valise.

  "Of course," Todd reasoned, "Rockwell may be ignorant of the fact thatWeldon doesn't usually get around to the State National until he hasinspected all the other banks. Hence the check will have already gone tothe clearing house and will appear on the books merely as an item of onehundred and fifty thousand dollars due, rather than as a check from theCentral Trust. Yes, he may be ignorant of the fact--but it does lookfunny. Wonder what that bookkeeper mailed?"

  Working along the last line of reasoning, the government operativestopped at the post office long enough to introduce himself to thepostmaster, present his credentials, and inquire if the mail from thebox outside the Central Trust Company had yet been collected. Learningthat it had, he asked permission to inspect it.

  "You can look it over if you wish," stated the postmaster, "but, ofcourse, I have no authority to allow you to open any of it. Even thePostmaster-General himself couldn't do that."

  "Certainly," agreed Todd. "I merely want to see the address on a certainparcel and I'll make affidavit, if you wish, that I have reason tosuppose that the mails are being used for illegal purposes."

  "That won't be necessary. We'll step down to the parcel room and soonfind out what you want."

  Some five minutes later Todd learned that the parcel which herecognized--a long roll covered with wrapping paper, so that it wasimpossible to gain even an idea of what it contained--was addressed toJafferay, the bookkeeper, at his home address.

  "Thanks! Now if you can give me some idea of when this'll be delivered Iwon't bother you any more. About five o'clock this afternoon? Fine!" andthe man from Washington was out of the post office before anyone couldinquire further concerning his mission.

  A telephone call disclosed the fact that Weldon was then making hisexamination of the Central Trust Company books and could not bedisturbed, but Todd managed to get him later in the afternoon and madean appointment for dinner, on the plea of official business which hewished to discuss.

  That afternoon he paid a visit to the house of a certain Mr. Jafferayand spent an hour in a vain attempt to locate the bank examiner.

  Promptly at six o'clock that official walked into Todd's room at thehotel, to find the operative pacing restlessly up and down, visiblyexcited and clutching what appeared to be a roll of paper.

  "What's the matter?" asked Weldon. "I'm on time. Didn't keep you waitinga minute?"

  "No!" snapped Todd, "but where have you been for the last hour? Beentrying to reach you all over town."

  "Great Scott! man, even a human adding machine has a right to take alittle rest now and then. If you must know, I've been getting a shaveand a haircut. Anything criminal in that?"

  "Can't say that there is," and Todd relaxed enough to smile at hisvehemence. "But there is in this," unrolling the parcel that he stillheld and presenting several large sheets of ruled paper for theexaminer's attention. "Recognise them?"

  "They appear to be loose leaves from the ledgers at the Central TrustCompany."

  "Precisely. Were they there when you went over the books this morning?"

  "I don't recall them, but it's possible they may have been."

  "No--they weren't. One of the bookkeepers mailed them to himself, at hishome address, while you were still at the First National. If I hadn'tvisited his house this afternoon, in the guise of a book agent, andtaken a long chance by lifting this roll of paper, he'd have slippedthem back in place in the morning and nobody'd been any the wiser."

  "Then you mean that the bookkeeper is responsible for falsifying theaccounts?"

  "Only partially. Was the cash O. K. at the Central Trust?"

  "Perfectly."

  "Do you recall any record of a check for one hundred and fifty thousanddollars upon the State National drawn and cashed this morning?"

  "No, there was no such check."

  "Yes, there was. I was present when the messenger cashed it and he tookthe money back to the C. T. C. They knew you wouldn't get around to theState before morning, and by that time the check would have gone to theclearing house, giving them plenty of time to make the cash balance to apenny."

  "Whom do you suspect of manipulating the funds?"

  "The man who signed the check--Rockwell, the cashier! That's why I wastrying to get hold of you. I haven't the authority to demand admittanceto the Central Trust vaults, but you have. Then, if matters are as Ifigure them, I'll take charge of the case as an agent of the Departmentof Justice."

  "Come on!" was Weldon's response. "We'll get up there right away, No uselosing time over it!"

  At the bank, however, they were told that the combination to the vaultwas known to only three persons--the president of the bank, Rockwell,and the assistant cashier. The president, it developed, was out oftown. Rockwell's house failed to answer the phone, and it was a goodhalf hour before the assistant cashier put in an appearance.

  When, in compliance with Weldon's orders, he swung back the heavy doorswhich guarded the vault where the currency was stored, he swung around,amazed.

  "It's empty!" he whispered. "Not a thing there save the bags of coin.Why, I put some two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in paper money inthere myself this afternoon!"

  "Who was here at the time?" demanded Todd.

  "Only Mr. Rockwell. I remember distinctly that he said he would have towork a li
ttle longer, but that there wouldn't be any necessity for mystaying. So I put the money in there, locked the door, and went onhome."

  "Do you know where Rockwell is now?"

  "At his house, I suppose. He lives at--"

  "I know where he lives," snapped Todd. "I also know that he isn't there.I've had the place watched since five o'clock this afternoon--butRockwell hasn't shown up. Like the money--I think we can say 'with themoney'--he's gone, disappeared, vanished."

  "Then," said Weldon, "it is up to you to find him. My part of the jobceased the moment the shortage was disclosed."

  "I know that and if you'll attend to making a report on the matter,order the arrest of Jafferay, and spread the report of Rockwell'sembezzlement through police circles, I'll get busy on my own hook.Good-by." And an instant later Todd was hailing a taxi and ordering thechauffeur to break all the speed laws in reaching the house whereRockwell boarded.

  Examination of the cashier's room and an extended talk with thelandlady failed, however, to disclose anything which might be termed aclue. The missing official had visited the house shortly after noon, buthad not come back since the bank closed. He had not taken a valise orsuit case with him, declared the mistress of the house, but he had seemed"just a leetle bit upset."

  Quickly, but efficiently, Todd examined the room--even inspecting thebits of paper in the wastebasket and pawing over the books which linedthe mantel. Three of the former he slipped into his pocket and then,turning, inquired:

  "Was Mr. Rockwell fond of cold weather?"

  "No, indeed," was the reply. "He hated winter. Said he never wascomfortable from November until May. He always--"

  But the "queer gentleman," as the landlady afterward referred to him,was out of the house before she could detail her pet story of thecashier's fondness for heat, no matter at what cost.

  No one at the station had seen Rockwell board a train, but inquiry atthe taxicab offices revealed the fact that a man, with his overcoatcollar turned up until it almost met his hat brim, had taken a cab for anear-by town, where it would be easy for him to make connections eithernorth or south.

  Stopping only to wire Washington the bare outline of the case, with thesuggestion that the Canadian border be watched, "though it is almostcertain that Rockwell is headed south," Todd picked up the trail at therailroad ticket office, some ten miles distant, and found that a mananswering to the description of his prey had bought passage as far asSt. Louis. But, despite telegraphic instructions, the Saint Louis policewere unable to apprehend anyone who looked like Rockwell and thegovernment operative kept right on down the river, stopping at Memphisto file a message to the authorities in New Orleans.

  It was precisely a week after the looting of the Central Trust Companythat Todd stood on the docks in New Orleans, watching the arrival of thepassengers and baggage destined to go aboard the boat for Honduras.Singly and in groups they arrived until, when the "all ashore" signalsounded, the operative began to wonder if he were really on the righttrail. Then, at the last minute, a cab drove up and a woman, apparentlysuffering from rheumatism, made her way toward the boat. Scenting a tip,two stewards sprang to assist her, but Todd beat them to it.

  "Pardon me, madam," he said, "may I not--Drat that fly!" and with thathe made a pass at something in front of his face and accidentallybrushed aside the veil which hid the woman's face.

  He had barely time to realize that, as he had suspected, it wasRockwell, disguised, before the "woman" had slipped out of the lightwrap which she had been wearing and was giving him what he lateradmitted was the "scrap of his life." In fact, for several moments henot only had to fight Rockwell, but several bystanders as well--for theyhad only witnessed what they supposed was a totally uncalled for attackupon a woman. In the mixup that followed Rockwell managed to slip awayand, before Todd had a chance to recover, was halfway across the street,headed for the entrance to a collection of shanties which provided anexcellent hiding place.

  Tearing himself loose, Todd whipped out his revolver and fired at thefigure just visible in the gathering dusk, scoring a clean shot justabove the ankle--a flesh wound, that ripped the leg muscles withoutbreaking a bone. With a groan of despair Rockwell toppled over, clawingwildly in an attempt to reach his revolver. But Todd was on top of himbefore the cashier could swing the gun into action, and a pair ofhandcuffs finished the career of the man who had planned to loot the C.T. C. of a quarter million in cold cash.

  "The next time you try a trick like that," Todd advised him, on thetrain that night, "be careful what you leave behind in your room. Thetwo torn letterheads of the Canadian Pacific nearly misled me, but theother one referring to the Honduran line, plus the book on Honduras andthe fact that your landlady stated that you hated cold weather, gave youdead away. Of course, even without that, it was a toss-up between Canadaand Central America. Those are the only two places where an embezzler iscomparatively safe these days. I hope, for the sake of your comfort,they give you plenty of blankets in Joliet."

  * * * * *

  Quinn paused a moment to repack his pipe, and then, "So far as I know,he's still handling the prison finances," he added. "Yes--they found atthe trial that he had had a clean record up to the moment he slipped,but the criminal tendencies were there and he wasn't able to resisttemptation. He had speculated with the bank funds, covered his shortagesby removing the pages from the ledger and kiting checks through theState National, and then determined to risk everything in one grandclean-up.

  "He might have gotten away with it, too, if Todd hadn't spotted thepeculiarities which indicated moral weakness. However, you can't alwaystell. No one who knew Mrs. Armitage would have dreamed that shewas--what she was."

  "Well," I inquired, "what was she?"

  "That's what puzzled Washington and the State Department for severalmonths," replied Quinn. "It's too long a story to spin to-night. That'sher picture up there, if you care to study her features."

  And I went home wondering what were the crimes of which such a beautifulwoman could have been guilty.