CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BRUSHES WITH THE LAW AND WITH SWINDLERS
A MAGICIAN who turned criminal could baffle the officers of the law and live in ease and plenty. If he were captured no shackles or doors would hold him. If he committed murder no evidence of his crime would ever be discovered.
There is one well-known case of an Austrian magician who carried out a systematic series of bank robberies and who was worth thousands of pounds when he was captured. He escaped from prison no less than three times and gave the police enormous trouble before he settled down to a quiet life in gaol. And yet, from what I know of him, I should say he was only a very average magician.
I have never been tempted to resort to a life of crime, but being a professional magician has often brought me into contact with the law. There is a certain suspicion of a man who earns his living by trying to deceive his fellow men--particularly if he succeeds as well as I have!
Occasionally I have been able to help the workings of the law, and once or twice, in small matters, I have taken the law into my own hands and, by means of my skill, have outwitted men who have been trying to cheat me.
Once when I was playing at Palermo, in Italy, two policemen came to my dressing-room after the show bringing with them a paper, which they asked me to sign. It was a declaration that I did not achieve my effects by hypnotism. Apparently there is a law in Italy against that sort of thing.
I did not like this idea, and sent for an interpreter in order to talk things over with the police. They explained to me that officials had been to my show the night before and were of the opinion that the effects could not be achieved merely by practice and skill, and they wanted an assurance that I was not dabbling with the occult or indulging in hypnotism.
The manager arrived at this point and I consulted him about the matter. I told him that I was thinking of fighting them on the issue, which would be good publicity for business.
"For goodness' sake, don't do that!" he implored me. "They'll close the theatre straight away, and we shall all lose money."
So I gave way and signed the paper, and assured the police that all my illusions were pure deception and that the effects were produced by scientific arrangements. They went away satisfied.
Three days later something happened which made me very suspicious. I thought that the police had sent me an agent provocateur to test my veracity.
A well-dressed and elegant Italian woman came to my hotel and implored my help. I do not speak Italian, and had to rely on the interpreting of the hotel manager, but the main trend of her appeal was as follows:
For weeks she had been unable to sleep, and she was terribly distressed in mind. To distract herself she had been to see my show, and there she had come to the belief that I alone could help her. If I could play with the minds of a whole audience surely I could so influence her as to shake off the worry which was killing her.
I had every reason to believe that I could be of help. Time and time again I have helped people who have suffered from nervous complaints. In my company there are two men who appear under the names "Foster and Clark". Of these Foster stuttered badly. I offered to cure him in ten minutes, and I succeeded.
There are many reasons for stuttering, and I knew Foster well enough to know the reason for his impediment. He was short of breath and he was impatient. He could never manage a sentence because he had no confidence in himself.
I started him with words like "Constantinople" and the Russian "colpack-pot-kal-picome". I told him to draw a long breath before speaking, and to take a breath before every word. If he stuttered before me I assured him that I should give him a good slap on the face.
In ten minutes he was talking naturally, though slower than is usual. After another talk, in which I advised him to go into the country and address the trees as if they were persons, and to assure himself that what he was saying did not sound absurd and that he was as good as anyone else, he could speak in quite a normal fashion.
Besides Foster I have cured three other cases of stuttering, including myself. I have already told how, when I was quite small, I fell into a well, and the shock began my stuttering. I cured myself by the method I have outlined here.
These reflections convinced me that I might be able to help this unfortunate woman. It was obvious that she had implicit faith in me, and I decided that I would risk her being in touch with the police. The only drawback I could see was that the contact between us was broken by the presence of a third party, the interpreter.
I soon had the outline of the story. She was worried about her daughter, who had run away from home. Obviously there must be a man in the case, and I asked her a few questions, mixing guesswork with some of the information she had already given me, so that she gained the impression that I knew a great deal more than she did about the matter. This slight deception was necessary if I were to gain that control of her mind which would enable me to be of help to her.
I gathered that the man was a bank-clerk, so evidently he could not be an out-and-out rotter. I suggested that the best course was to wire the daughter to come home, and assure her that the marriage should go through and that all would be forgiven.
Unfortunately the poor woman did not know where her daughter was.
I asked her to give me until the next day to think things over, and in the meantime I gave her instructions about sending herself to sleep.
"Do you know a big building with a fire-escape?
Suppose you climbed up, step after step, for ten or twelve storeys. How would you feel then?"
She said that she would feel utterly exhausted.
"I want you to go to that building and look at it carefully. Walk round it three times. Then go home to bed. Imagine that you have walked up to the top and now you are standing on top of that building and that on the ground below is your comfortable bed. You are exhausted after your climb. You let yourself fall from the top of the building, knowing full well that no harm will come to you at the bottom. As you pass storey after storey in your descent you feel your strength leaving you, until, when you reach the bed, you feel absolutely empty. Close your eyes and think of nothing at all, and relax completely."
The next day she came to me looking very much better than she had before. She had had her first sleep for three weeks.
In the interval I had been pondering over the problem of the disappearance of the girl. I thought that she would certainly make for the biggest town near by, which in this case would be Rome. She would go to a small hotel in a quiet part of the town. I suggested to the woman that she go to Rome, engage a taxi, and scour the city, asking at every place where she thought her daughter might be.
In a week's time the woman came back a third time, looking quite well again. She had found her daughter in the town of Terni, about twenty miles outside Rome, and had had a long and affectionate chat with her. In the end the daughter had decided to return, and she would be married soon. She wanted to know how much she owed me for all the trouble I had taken.
I thought that that woman was quite straight, and yet lurking in the back of my mind was the possibility that she might be a police-spy. I told her that I had been pleased to be of service and that I would make no charge. She gave me a handsome present, and that was the last I saw of her.
I had a similar experience in Barcelona, though this one has nothing whatever to do with the law, and is, therefore, rather irrelevant in this chapter.
A man came to me and complained that he was in great distress. He had been to the stage door four times before and had been too frightened to come in that was typical of the state of his nerves.
He had been married, had had money and a comfortable position. Suddenly his wife had disappeared. He had been completely upset by this unexplained occurrence. He had been unable to sleep, to do business, even to speak to anyone. Could I help him?
First I told him to go that very night and see a girl who would appeal to him.
I could not tell him to go to a lofty building, for there was not one big enough in Barcelona, but I told him to go to a mountain which is quite near, and there go through the routine I had sketched out for the woman in Palermo.
When I had finished he thanked me profusely, and then brought up the question of payment.
"Go home and see if it works," I told him. "If it helps you to sleep, come back and see me tomorrow."
It worked all right, and the next day he made me a present of a large sum of money, half of which I gave to the interpreter.
To return to my brushes with the law, I must now tell the story of my coloured chauffeur, Ruffus, and the two dollar bills. I am particularly fond of telling this story because the feat earned me two dollars.
It was in 1901, and I had just acquired a motorcar. They were not over-common in those days, and I was proud of mine. So was Ruffus, the chauffeur. I was driving back in the car after a dinner in New York when I was overtaken by a policeman on a motorcycle, who accused me of exceeding the speed limit, which was then twenty miles an hour.
In those days one was liable to be arrested for speeding.
I went down to the police-station and all particulars were taken. Then I was told that I would be released on 200 dollars bail. I took the money from my pocket and started to count it, but the inspector stopped me. "It must come from a third party," he said.
Ruffus was standing beside me, and I turned to him and said, "You bail me out, Rufus."
"Fo' Gawd'sake, boss, I ain't got a cent."
By means of a little sleight-of-hand I managed to slip my bundle of dollar bills into his pocket.
"Oh, have a good look, Ruffus. You may come across something somewhere."
Ruffus began to go carefully through his pockets, and I saw his eyes open wider when he came to the roll of notes, but he still said, "I ain't got nuttin'. Not even a cent."
"What's this, then? Wouldn't you save your master from gaol?"
And with that I whipped the notes out of his pocket and handed them to the officer in charge. He counted them very carefully and announced that there were only 198 dollars there and he must have 200.
That took me aback for a moment, and then I said, "Are you quite sure that there are not two hundred there? May I count them?"
I started off counting, palmed two dollars, brought them out towards the end, and the total came to two hundred. The officers had watched me carefully and had no suspicion that they had been tricked.
The next day I went to court to answer the summons. I had decided to fight the case myself and to dispense with a lawyer. As soon as I had a chance to question the policeman I began like this:
"How fast do you say I was going?"
"Twenty-three miles an hour."
"That was by your speedometer?"
"Yes."
"Where did you first see me?"
"At Thirtieth Street."
"Where did you overtake me?"
"At Forty-sixth Street."
"What distance is that?"
"About half a mile."
"So that for about half a mile I was going at a speed of twenty-three miles an hour, according to your speedometer?"
With that I turned to the magistrate and said,
"If this man overtook me he must have been travelling quicker than I was. He was going at twenty-three miles an hour, therefore I must have been travelling at a slower pace."
The case was dismissed and the court ordered that I be paid back the 200 dollars bail. I had paid in only 198, so I showed a profit of two dollars.
It was in Paris in 1906 that I outwitted the swindling waiters who take advantage of people who do not speak French, and who, although they themselves can speak good English, rarely do so, to suit their own purpose.
On my first visit to the French capital I visited a very luxurious restaurant for lunch. I was offered the bill of fare, and made my choice. At the end of the meal I was presented with a bill for 130 francs.
I was certain that I had not ordered anything as expensive as that, and I asked to see the bill of fare again. When it arrived the prices were omitted! Yet I was certain that they had been on the first one I saw.
There was nothing to do about it then, so I paid my bill and promised myself that I would have my own back. I resent being swindled.
Next day I returned to the restaurant, and the first thing I did was to pocket the bill of fare, which had the prices on. When the waiter arrived I asked for a bill of fare, and then made my order. In due course the bill arrived--for 120 francs, though I knew my order did not exceed seventy-five.
"May I see the bill of fare?"
"Certainly, m'sieu."
No prices, of course.
"But this is not the one from which I ordered."
And with that I took my bill of fare out of my pocket and showed the real total. The manager came up and apologized for the pretended mistake, and after that, whenever I visited that restaurant, they gave me a fifty-per-cent reduction.
Another little swindle a Parisian waiter tried on me was with the change. There was a habit of placing a gold coin under a larger silver one, the idea being that the customer would say, "Garçon, pour vous," and the waiter would have both the silver coin as a tip and the gold coin it concealed.
One day I gave the waiter a hundred-franc note and I expected forty-five francs change. When the change was brought there was, amongst other coins, a small gold ten-franc coin beneath a large silver coin. Many people would have picked up most of the coins and left the silver one for the waiter, but I had already seen something of this trickery and made it a practice of mine to count all the money without touching it. By this method I was able to draw the waiter's attention to the fact that ten francs were missing.
He could not very well expose his own trick by showing the hidden ten-franc gold piece. Instead he apologized for the mistake and added another ten francs to make the change right, anticipating that he would receive the silver piece and the gold one it concealed and so would not be out of pocket.
In picking up the coins, however, I also picked up the concealed gold one, unseen by the waiter. I left the silver on the plate as a tip.
I had warned the friends who were with me that something of the sort was likely to happen, and they were very much amused at the sequel.
As he went away from the table the waiter picked up all the silver, searching for the gold piece. He could not understand what had happened to it. Then he looked on the floor, thinking he had dropped it. At last he looked suspiciously across at us and saw that we were bursting our sides with laughter. When he realized what had happened he was quite helpless and could not claim any redress. He had to swallow his indignation and reconcile himself to being ten francs out.
A third case comes to my mind. This time the place was Hamburg. I had been eating oysters, and I gave the waiter a twenty-mark gold piece. When he brought me the change he gave me three marks, though my bill came to only seven altogether.
"I gave you twenty marks," I pointed out.
"No, sir. Only a ten-mark gold piece."
I was quite certain that I had given him the twenty-mark piece, and tried to convince the waiter that he had made a mistake.
In the end he said that he put all his money in his trousers pocket, and that if I cared to search him I should find that he had no twenty-mark piece on him.
I put my hand in the pocket, and sure enough that was no gold coin there except one ten-mark piece. But as I was slipping my hand inside the pocket I noticed a little pocket at the top, and in there was a gold coin. Using a little sleight-of-hand I extracted it and palmed it. Knowing it was my twenty-mark piece, I kept it.
"You are quite right, my man," I said. "Perhaps I did make a mistake." And I took my three marks change.
I think that that waiter would have some difficulty in making his books balance that night. Anyway, I had had my oysters free and showed a profit of three marks.
In these cases I used my cleverness to protect myself against swindlers, but there was one instance when I did practise a little swindle myself, and I have never regretted it. This does not mean that I am glorying in crime, as the story will show.
I was playing at the Apollo Theatre in Vienna in 1909, and during my time there a great ball was to be given. The tickets cost one hundred kronen for a man and seventy kronen for a woman. I decided to go, and invited a lady friend to accompany me. Unfortunately I forgot to buy the tickets, and when we drove up to the entrance of the ballroom we found that there were 7000 people inside and that no one without tickets was allowed to enter, and they were not selling any more tickets.
Naturally my companion was bitterly disappointed, and began to upbraid me.
"Don't you worry," I said. "We'll get in somehow."
I must confess I had no idea at all what I should do, but I handed in my coat and hat and walked up the twenty steps, intending to look inside the ballroom to see if I could catch sight of anyone I knew. I knew that a number of my friends, including the late Mr. Tiber, the manager of the Apollo Theatre, where I was playing, intended to be present.
There was a man at the door to take the tickets, and when I reached him he was looking inside the ballroom. I took my place behind him and waited until he turned round again. As he turned, I turned also, so that when he had his back to the ballroom I was practically inside. I then pretended that I was walking out of the ballroom hastily and had bumped into him. Of course I apologized, and he politely acknowledged the apology. I told him not to forget me because I should be coming back very shortly. "I am looking for my lady friend, who has not been able to join me until now," I said, and I went on down the stairs. I told the lady to put her cloak in the ladies' room and to come with me.
While she was away I went back to the man at the top of the stairs. I said that the lady had now arrived, but that I had her ticket in my overcoat pocket. He knew that the cloakroom was now closed and that it would be difficult for me to reach my coat. "Would it be all right," I went on, "for us to enter the ballroom and for me to retrieve the ticket at the first opportunity?"
Before he agreed I offered him my hand. He felt a silver piece inside it, and said, "Oh, that will be quite all right."
I went back to the top of the steps and called to the young lady. Inside the ballroom we met our friends and they enjoyed hearing the story of my adventure.
I have, I believe, a very trusting nature; if people treat me well I always treat them well in return. But if I find that someone is trying to take advantage of my good nature I move heaven and earth in order to have my revenge.
I was once playing in Ireland, and after that engagement I had to go to Plymouth. The Saturday-night boat left at 10.30, which was too early for me, and there were no boats on Sunday. I decided that the only thing to do was to charter a boat, and I found that this would cost me £100. I instructed Lee Ephraim, the well-known producer, who was then my manager, to wire the proprietor of the Palace Theatre, Plymouth, the late Mr. Hoyle, and ask him if he would go fifty-fifty with me. He wired back that he would.
Just after the boat left harbour, Lee Ephraim noticed that there were two strange men aboard. He called my attention to them and I went and asked them what they were doing there. They said that they had bought tickets and were entitled to travel on the boat. I said nothing more just then; after all, there was plenty of room. But I sent for the captain and asked him why these men were on a privately chartered ship. He told me that they had paid their fare and had tickets, and that he could not tell me anything more about it. He agreed that they had no right to be on board.
After that I decided that I was entitled to their fare, and that the shipping company was trying to put something over on me. I wrote to them putting forward my views pretty forcibly, and in reply I had the usual letter disclaiming all liability. This correspondence went on for three months or more.
In the end I had a solicitor's letter sent to them threatening to sue them if they did not pay those fares, and in return I received a cheque for £3.
But just as I was congratulating myself on my little success a legal friend came to see me. I told him what had been happening.
"It's a pity you don't know something about the law, Horace," he said. "If they sold tickets for that boat they cancelled the charter and they were only entitled to the ordinary fare from you, not the £100 you paid."
So I had not been as clever as I thought.
In Capetown I was able to frustrate another swindle. I had been playing for six weeks in that city and I was waiting for a boat to Durban. During this week's rest I decided to have my tiger's cage renovated. This was in seventeen parts, and had suffered some rough usage. A carpenter undertook the job and promised me to complete it within three days.
He broke his promise and did not return the cage until midday on Saturday, the day on which I was sailing. He brought his account with him, and I was amazed to see the figure Of £54 upon it. The original construction of the whole cage did not cost so much. I told him that all that had to be done was the replacing of various parts and that there must be a mistake somewhere. To this he replied that he was only the secretary of the firm and that he would have to 'phone "the proprietor". When he had done this he came back to say that a reduction would be made to £50.
I checked up the alterations he had made and I decided that they were worth between £10 and £15.
But I felt that there was no need to make unnecessary fuss on the very day I was sailing, so I offered £25. This he refused, and began to threaten me. He said that there was a law in South Africa which said that if a foreigner owed more than £10 and refused payment a warrant could be taken out and an arrest made. Apparently he was prepared to call in the police if I did not pay the £50.
At this point I temporized. I asked "the secretary" to lunch with me, and in the meantime phoned my solicitor in Capetown to make sure that a warrant had not been applied for.
I returned to the table after receiving this information and said point-blank that I would not pay more than £25. I was not in the least worried when he said that he would have me arrested.
just before we sat down to lunch I had asked the manager of the hotel to act as mediator and try to persuade the fellow that this was a gross over-charge. This had proved a failure, and I then asked the manager to find out who the man really was. While we were sitting at table arguing the manager sent me a note saying that "the secretary" was none other than the proprietor himself.
That settled it. Before, I had been seeking a compromise, thinking there had been some mistake; but now I saw that the man was trying to swindle me, and I resolved that he would not succeed. I called two witnesses, and before them I offered him £25 in notes. He refused it. Then I said that I was going to Durban, and that if they decided to accept the money I had offered they were to wire me, and I would cable it straight away. He spurned the offer, so I dropped the discussion.
It was then 2 p.m., and I had to catch the boat within an hour. The taxi was waiting, and as I was passing through the door with my handbags "the secretary" tried to hold on to one. All he got was a push and a kick from my right foot.
My boat was a Japanese one, and I had not been aboard ten minutes when the carpenter arrived with a policeman. I knew he had no warrant and so I did not worry. I again showed the man the £25 and in the hearing of the policeman I shouted, "You can have this now if you will sign the receipt in full." He refused, and they boarded the boat. I was surprised to find that the policeman took his part.
The position was explained to the captain and the purser, both of whom realized that I was acting in good faith. They pointed out to the policeman that I was, to all intents and purposes, on Japanese territory and that he could not make an arrest. They had "the secretary" removed from the boat.
We arrived at Durban early in the day, and at 8 a.m. I had an unexpected visitor. He was a very distinguished-looking gentleman, and he had a pink paper in his hand. "Mr. Goldin?" he asked. "Yes." "I have a summons for you," and he placed it on the table.
"Who are you?" I asked in my turn. He gave me his name and said that he was an officer of the law.
"I understand, Mr. Goldin," he went on, "that you have refused payment to my client. I have instructions to remove all your baggage from the boat and to detain you here until the £54 is paid."
"Who gave you these instructions?"
"My client, your carpenter."
"If I don't do as you say, shall I be committed for contempt of court?"
"You will."
"But surely it is the court only which can issue such instructions?"
I had him there, and I went on to press my point. I said that it was a crime for an officer of the law to assist dishonest persons who were attempting to rob others, and that, should I be caused further inconvenience, he was to take warning that I would hold him personally responsible.
"To prove you are a bluffer," I ended, "I can tell you that that paper there is a blank." I opened it and, sure enough, it was just as I had said.
That convinced him that I could not be easily bluffed and he tried a more amicable tone. I told him that I did not propose to trust him, and that I thought him no better than his client. But in the course of this conversation it transpired that his office was next to that of a friend of mine, a Mr. Klein, and we decided to call round there together.
This lawyer was by then becoming quite friendly, and we had breakfast together. Afterwards I called a rickshaw and we went to see Mr. Klein, who was surprised to see us. The "officer" told his story, and I told mine. Then Mr. Klein suggested a settlement.
During the voyage from Capetown I had discovered something new. The swindlers, trying to make the bill look big, had said that there were twenty-four parts in the cage, but the receipt which my stage-manager had said only seventeen. I said that obviously seven parts were missing. This was embodied into the settlement suggested by Mr. Klein. I increased my offer to £35 and left £10 deposit with my friend. At Singapore I should have time to complete my investigations, and, if I found the cage incomplete, I had the right to employ another carpenter. This bill was to be deducted from the amount payable to the Capetown carpenter. On receipt of the seven pieces missing, according to the account, I would send the balance.
At Singapore I engaged three Chinese to replace many of the parts in the cage and to reinforce others. I found that the Capetown man had swindled me still further, for he had quoted me for one-inch timber and had used threequarter-inch. When the work was complete I called in a judge of the court. He saw the work and the three Chinese carpenters and gave me an affidavit. The Chinese also signed affidavits.
The bill for this work amounted to £9, and this was deducted from the £10 I had left with Mr. Klein in Durban. Naturally, the seven "missing" parts never came to light, so all Mr. Klein had to do was to hand over £1.
That carpenter must have wished he had accepted my £25 offer, and I hope he learned the lesson "It pays to go straight".
I had a very exciting brush with the law when I was touring England with "A Woman Sawn in Half". I was then using an imitation dollar bill as an advertising stunt. The one side looked like a genuine dollar bill, but on the other was written, One dollar was the lowest price in the U.S.A. to see HORACE GOLDIN sawing a woman in half while her hands and feet were held by members of the audience.
This idea had been introduced to me while I was playing in Germany.
A printer came to me, showed me an American dollar bill, and suggested the wording on the back I have given above. I thought that this was a sound advertising scheme and ordered 50,000 of them. They were all distributed in Germany and caused no trouble at all.
When I began to tour Great Britain I had more of these bills printed, in English this time, and the advertising went on as before. We used to distribute 3000 to 5000 at each town in which we stayed.
While I was playing at Norwich I sent on my advance agent to Birmingham, where I was booked to play at the Hippodrome Theatre the next week. You can imagine my surprise when I received a wire to say that he had been arrested.
This is what had happened. Some artful person had pasted two of my bills together and had gone with them into a public-house. He ordered a double whisky and offered the bill in payment. He duly received three shillings and twopence change, and the cashier did not find out the trick until the end of the day. Naturally, the police heard of it, and took steps. They arrested my agent, had all the bills called in, and notified the Norwich police. They came to me for the plates and to secure all information possible.
When I arrived in Birmingham I was summoned on the charge of uttering false currency. The chief of police called to see me at the theatre and I told him that I was going to fight the case and was engaging counsel.
This may seem rather odd. The penalty for the first offence is only £5, and I should have to pay my solicitor £5 and the counsel £10 But I argued that the publicity I should get would make this expense worth while, and, anyway, I enjoy a fight and felt fairly confident that I could tie the police in knots.
The case came on on Saturday, and there was a good deal of excitement. The newspapers had placards Out, "ILLUSIONIST IN COURT", and the stage seemed set for a very pretty drama.
The police had made arrangements with their usual thoroughness. The two detectives who had visited me in Norwich were there. There was a money expert from Cooks'.
It was when this man was being cross-examined that the fun began. He told the court that he had been changing money for the last fifteen years, and could therefore speak as an expert.
"How many silks are there in a dollar bill?" asked my counsel.
The man did not know.
"Can you tell us where the paper is made?"
"In Washington, I imagine."
"On the contrary, it is made in Dublin."
My counsel then took up one of my imitation dollars and a real one.
"How much would you give for this one?" he asked, holding up the real one.
"Four shillings and twopence."
"And for this?"
"Nothing at all."
"There must, then, be a very big difference between these two bills."
This devastating cross-examination disqualified the man as an expert. We had scored a very decisive victory.
My turn soon came. Luckily I had had a very full rehearsal with my lawyers, and this proved very useful. The counsel for the police went for me tooth and nail.
"Is this an imitation of a dollar bill?' he asked me point-blank.
I would not agree that it was. I pointed out that it was wider and longer; the margins were wider; it was of a slightly different colour; on the back there was printed my name and the name of the theatre at which I was appearing.
"In my opinion it is no imitation," I concluded.
The opposing counsel lost patience with all this.
"Do you mean to tell me that the picture on this bill is not George Washington?"
"I don't know. I have never seen him. Have you?"
This effort of mine brought laughter and applause.
Later my counsel pressed the point. He asked if it could be proved that this was a picture of George Washington. At one stage it was suggested that an expert would have to be sent to the U.S.A. to find out. But then arose another query: who was there present who could prove it? No one alive had seen him. The three magistrates' heads must have been in a whirl while all this legal arguing was going on.
The end of the business was that the case was dismissed and I was ordered to pay one pound. I do not know what this was for, but it was cheap at the price and I asked no questions. The police had to pay all their own costs, and that pleased me. I had not looked forward to paying the expenses of those detectives up from Norwich.
I like a good practical joke once in a while, and naturally I am better able than most people to stage a successful one. I can remember one occasion which got me into hot water with the police.
I had been watching a street fakir in Union Square, New York, and becoming rather bored with the proceedings I looked around to see if I could make my own fun. Near by two young men were standing, evidently friends. One of them had a very conspicuous watch-chain, and I decided that if the watch on the end of that chain was as valuable as I supposed, it would be a good foundation for my little practical joke.
Edging near to these young men, I placed myself in a position to lift the watch. I waited until they were really interested in one of the fakir's tricks, and then out came the watch. I gave a slight tug and it left the chain. I pocketed it and began to make off.
The young man's friend caught a glimpse of my theft and immediately gave chase. I was caught at the edge of the crowd, the nearest policeman was summoned, and I was given in charge.
The walk to the police-station was one of the most pleasant I have had in my life. I was the centre of all attraction, and I felt that my joke was progressing even better than I had expected. Once arrived inside, I began to be quietly busy.
There was, of course, a great deal of recrimination, and I was called a number of nasty names by the two excitable young men, who were quite certain that I was a professional pickpocket. In a way, I suppose that they were not far wrong.
When the sergeant in charge understood what had happened he ordered that I be searched. Needless to say, though the officer was very thorough, and tickled me a great deal, he found nothing in the shape of a watch except my own, which was not at all like the one the young man had lost. I made a speech about the inconvenience that they had made for an innocent citizen, and went on en oying things hugely.
This did not satisfy the owner of the watch, and he insisted that I must have the watch concealed on my person somewhere, because I had not had a chance of getting rid of it.
At this point I began to take a keen interest in the proceedings. "Surely you have no right to bring me here, officer. You have no badge on."
I could hardly forbear to laugh at the look of consternation on the policeman's face as he searched for the missing badge. As I expected, he failed to find it.
"Perhaps," I suggested, "these people who are making such a song about their virtue know something about this. I advise you to search them. I think that young man has taken it."
"You're a liar," came the inelegant reply very promptly, but when he was searched the badge was found on him all right.
I then asked the policeman if anything else was missing and he discovered that he had not got his pistol. That was found on the other young man.
"This is a queer thing," I said. "I begin to believe that I am the only honest man here." Turning to the sergeant, I asked him to have the policeman searched.
Naturally, the missing watch was found on him.
It was a good act, but I did not get any applause for it.
"I'd like your name, please," said the sergeant sternly.
"Goldin," I replied, "Horacc Goldin. I'm an honest performer, and--"
"Quite so," broke in the sergeant, "and you've been very clever here. But if you take my advice you'll not use your skill on policemen in future. You can go."
And out I marched, leaving the sergeant to clear up the mystery for the trio of dupes.