Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
Coudert & Co. I sat near the desk, conversing with the head of the firm,
and opened a dispatch I sent from Arles, and, after reading, handed it
to him, saying: "I see that I shall have use for 60,000 francs, and must
ask you to cash a draft on my letter of credit for that amount." He
immediately stepped to the safe, took out a bundle of 1,000 franc notes,
and counting out sixty, gave them to me.
As it was almost certain that the Bordeaux fraud would soon be
discovered, I determined, now that my risky work was completed, to
attempt an immediate escape from France by way of Paris and Calais. I
did not, therefore, take the train direct from Lyons to Paris, but
engaged a carriage and drove back to a junction toward Marseilles. Here
I took a train which intersects further to the northward with another
road leading through Lyons to Paris. After going the roundabout route
above described, I was back at the Lyons station at 9 p.m. in a train
bound for Paris, where I arrived without further incident.
The next morning (Sunday) as I left the railway station I thought
detectives were watching me, but, in all probability, it was only the
imagination of a guilty conscience. I was then wearing a full beard, and
as a precautionary measure I, that morning, had all shaved off save the
mustache. Not daring to leave Paris on the through express, which
started at 3 o'clock p.m., nor to purchase a ticket to either Calais or
London direct, I went to the station and took the noon accommodation
train, which went no further toward Calais than Arras, a town some
thirty miles from Paris. I arrived there about 1 p.m.
As it would be a couple of hours before the express train was due, I
went to a small hotel and ordered dinner. To while away the time I took
a stroll through the main street, where were many mothers and nurses
with children, nice black-eyed French babies. As I was always a devoted
lover of children and other small creatures, I stepped into a shop and
bought a package of confectionery, which I distributed among the little
ones and their smiling nurses, receiving therefor, almost invariably,
the grateful exclamation, "Merci, Monsieur!" I gave some to children 8
and 10 years old, a crowd of whom soon gathered about me. Perceiving
that I was attracting too much attention, it was clear that I must get
rid of my young friends as soon as possible, or the police might also be
attracted, and their presence would lead to unpleasant results in case
the frauds had been discovered and inquiry was being made for an
Englishman. Purchasing a second supply of candies I hastily gave them
out, and with a "Restez ici, mes enfants," I passed through them and
continued my walk up the street. Quite a number followed at a
respectable distance, and I was cogitating how to double on them when I
came to the gateway of the town cemetery, through which I hastily
entered. The children remained outside and watched me as I walked up the
slope and disappeared. At the rear of the cemetery I observed an old
man at work in the adjoining field. I climbed upon the stone wall, which
instantly crumbled away, and I was landed on the old Frenchman's domain
without leave, amidst a pile of stones. Startled by the racket, he
looked up from his digging, and, seeing a stranger uprising from the
ruins of the fence, began consigning him to "le diable," with a volley
of vigorous French expletives delivered in peasant patois. I listened to
him, much amused for a moment, and then held up a five-franc piece. As
soon as he beheld it a wondrous change came over him. He eagerly seized
the silver and straightway showed me to a lane which led almost directly
to the railway station. I purchased a ticket for Calais and took the
Sunday afternoon express, and here I am.
CHAPTER XIII.
WE TALK OF THE STARS AND DO THE OTHER THING.
After we saw George off to Paris on the train Mac and I walked up and
down the platform outside of the station, star-gazing. Mac, with his
brilliant scholarship, elegant speech, logical force and fiery
enthusiasm, made a most fascinating companion.
The study of mankind is man, the old proverb says, but like many other
proverbs there is a full measure of unreality in it. It takes a good
amount of arrogance and conceit for one to fancy he is going to study
and understand men. No man can understand himself, and by no amount of
experience or study will he ever come to understand that subtle thing he
calls his mind or understand the motives that sway him.
I only wish one of those scientists who amuse themselves by pretending
to study and understand human minds and motives could have sat in Mac's
brain that night, have thought his thoughts and heard his speech, while
remaining ignorant of our history and mission. Mac's mind was a
storehouse of erudition, his memory a picture gallery, whose chambers
were gilded and decorated with many a glowing canvas. As a child he was
familiar with the Bible, the Old Testament particularly, and, improbable
as it seems, was still a diligent student of Holy Writ. His mind was
completely saturated with Bible imagery, yet there we were with our
pockets full of forged documents walking up and down that platform
star-gazing, while he talked with intelligent enthusiasm of those silver
flowers in the darkened sky, of stellar space, how in its infinity it
proved the presence of Deity. That with him there was no great and no
little. That a thought sweeping across the God-given mind of an infant
was as wonderful and as much an evidence of power as the millioned arch
of radiant suns in the milky way. While speeding through Belgium on our
way to the Rhine, he continued until the sun shone upon the horizon. It
was something to stir one's enthusiasm to see his sublime faith in the
mighty destiny of man, and to listen to him tell of the dignity and
grace of every human soul and his sure faith that all would be garnered
in the mighty plains of heaven, and he meant and felt it all; yes, meant
all he said, believed all he said, believed that he himself was a potent
factor in the Divine economy, and, furthermore, believed it behooved
every man to do all things, to be all things good and true, yet on this
Sunday morning we were fast speeding to the scene of our contemplated
schemes, and with light hearts looked forward to a speedy return to
London, fairly well laden with plunder.
We talked the whole night through, or rather Mac talked and I listened,
and it was a treat to be a listener, he being the speaker.
A period was put to his oration by the train stopping at Luxemburg, we
being summoned to breakfast.
On resuming our journey we took a nap, and when we awoke we found
ourselves nearing the Rhine; about noon we arrived at Cologne, and going
to Uhlrich platz, drank a bottle of Tokay in a famous wine cellar there,
then hurrying back to the station we traveled across the sandy plain
that stretches from near the Prussian border to the capital. We arrived
soon after dark, and Mac went at once to the Hotel Lion de Paris and
registered. I waited across the street in the shadow of the Empress
Palace. Mac soon came out, and we went to dine in a large cafe. We
enjoyed the novelty of the scene, and were never tired of marveling over
the all-predominant militarism. Soldiers everywhere, all with good lungs
and loud voices. We spent the evening seeing the town; at midnight we
parted to meet and breakfast together at the cafe at 8. I then went to
an obscure hotel and soon was in the land of dreams. In the morning I
awoke with an anxious feeling, and found myself wishing it were night.
At 8, the appointed time, I met Mac. He may possibly have felt some
anxiety; if so, it was invisible.
When an honest man makes a mistake he has not only sympathy, but can
always pick himself up again. With a rogue a mistake may easily be and
almost always is fatal. We feared the unseen and the unexpected. Above
all, our imagination magnified the danger while tormenting us with
needless fears. In Germany the banks open at 9 o'clock, and we knew they
would receive soon after 8 the letter we had deposited in the mail in
London. We decided that it would be best for Mac to enter the banker's
at five minutes after 9. We had discovered the night before the location
of the firm. During breakfast Mac went carefully through his pockets,
taking out every scrap of paper and turning everything over to me; then
taking out from among the others in our bag the letters of credit and
introduction we made our last scrutiny of them. We had not settled upon
the amount he should ask for, but agreed that it should not in any case
be less than 25,000 gulden ($10,000). If everything seemed favorable
then Mac was to use his own judgment and demand any sum under 100,000
gulden ($40,000). His letter of credit was for L10,000, and we did not
want to leave it behind. Of course, if we drew any less sum than the
amount the credit called for, the sum we drew would be indorsed on the
letter, and it would be returned to Mac and be instantly destroyed. So
with the documents in his pockets and giving me a smile, out he went,
and I followed after, keeping him in sight, and very anxious I was. We
were on Unter den Linden. Walking one square and turning to the left
half a block away were the bankers--Hebrew, by the way. I saw Mac
saunter up the steps and disappear from view. Outside of America money
transactions are carried on with the utmost deliberation; to an American
with exasperating slowness; so I thought it possible he might remain
invisible for a whole half-hour, and a long half-hour it would be to me.
In order to have my anxiety shortened by even a half minute we had
arranged that when he came out if he had the money he was to stroke his
beard as a signal. If it was all right, but delayed, he was to put his
handkerchief to his face, but if everything was wrong he was to clasp
his hands across his breast for a moment.
In that event I was to keep a lookout to see if he was followed; if so,
I was to give him a signal, when he would go straight to his hotel--in
passing through would dispose of his tall hat, and put on the soft hat
he had in his pocket--then pass out the back entrance and hasten to a
certain hat shop, where I would meet him, and take a cab to a little
town six miles away, called Juterbock, where all trains going south,
west and east stopped. While driving out, we would settle on some plan;
but this emergency did not arise. I had stationed myself in a little
shop across the street, and from that vantage ground was watching for
Mac's reappearance, and just as I had settled myself for a weary watch
out he came, smiling and stroking his beard. A moment's glance satisfied
me he was not followed. I hastened after, and, coming up with him as he
turned the corner, he merely said 2,600 pounds ($13,000). It seemed too
good to be true, and I said: "I don't believe you." He replied: "It is
all right, my boy; here it is," at the same time thrusting a big package
containing gulden notes into my hand. We instantly separated, I
hastening to different but near-by brokers' offices, buying for nearly
the full amount French bank notes and gold. We went straight to the
hatter's and bought one of those broad-brimmed German student hats,
which, when he had placed it on his head, put on a pair of spectacles
and parted his flowing beard in the middle, made such a transformation
in his appearance that I myself would have passed him unrecognized. In
the mean time I had picked out a cabdriver, a stupid-looking,
conservative-appearing old fellow, and engaged him to drive "mich und
meinen freund nach Juterbock." So we entered the cab, an open one-horse