system. When accounts came in and were checked, when the clearing-house made its quick report and certain northern and midland banking branches presented their claims, it was found that considerably over a quarter of a million of money had vanished.
There was much to admire here in the way of perfect training and clever expedient, but the L and O directors were not sufficiently broad-minded to offer any testimonial to their missing Manager.
Three days after he had vanished, Mr Reeder came upon the scene. He was in his most apologetic mood. He apologised for being called in three days after he should have been called in; he apologised to the gloomy Chairman for the offence of his unfaithful servant; he apologised for being wet (he carried a furled umbrella on his arm) and by inference regretted his side-whiskers, his hat and his tightly-fitting coat.
The Chairman, by some odd process of mind, felt that a considerable amount of responsibility had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Now, Mr Reeder, you see exactly what has happened, and the bank is leaving everything in your hands. Perhaps it would have been wiser if we’d called you in before.”
Mr Reeder plucked up spirit to say that he thought it might have been.
“Here are the reports,” said the General Manager, pushing a folder full of large, imposing manuscript sheets. “The police have not the slightest idea where he’s gone to, and I confess that I never expect to see Hallaty or the money again.”
Mr Reeder scratched his chin.
“It would be improper in me if I said that I hope I never do,” he sighed. “It’s the Tynedale case all over again, and the Manchester and Oldham Bank case, and the South Devon Bank case – in fact – um – there is here the evidence of a system, sir, if I may venture to suggest such a thing.”
The General Manager frowned.
“A system? You mean all these offences against the banks you have mentioned are organised?”
Mr Reeder nodded.
“I think so, sir,” he said gently. “If you will compare one with the other you will discover, I think, that in every case the Manager has, on one pretext or another, converted large sums of English currency into francs or dollars, that his last operation has been in London, and that he has vanished when the discovery of his defalcations has been made.”
The General Manager shivered, for Reeder was presenting to him the ogre of the banking world – the organised conspirator. Only those who understand banking know just what this means.
“I hadn’t noticed that,” he said; “but undoubtedly it is a fact.”
3
Other people had observed these sinister happenings. A bankers’ association summoned an urgent meeting, and Mr Reeder, an authority upon bank crimes, was called into consultation. In such moments as these Reeder was very practical, not at all vague. Rather was he definite – and when Mr Reeder was definite he was blood-curdling. He came to a sensational point after a very diffident beginning.
“There are some things – er – gentlemen, to which I am loath to give the authority of my support. Theories which – um – belong to the more sensational press and certainly to no scientific system. Yet I must tell you, gentlemen, that in my opinion we are for the first time face to face with an organised attempt to rob the banks on the grand scale.”
The president of the association looked at him incredulously.
“You don’t mean to suggest, Mr Reeder, that there is a definite co-ordination between these various frauds?”
Mr Reeder nodded solemnly.
“They have that appearance. I would not care to give a definite opinion one way or the other, but I certainly would not rule that out.”
One member of the association shook his white head.
“There are such things as crimes of imitation, Mr Reeder. When some man steals money in a peculiar way, other weak-minded individuals follow suit.”
Mr Reeder smiled broadly.
“I’m afraid that won’t do, sir,” he said
There was much to admire here in the way of perfect training and clever expedient, but the L and O directors were not sufficiently broad-minded to offer any testimonial to their missing Manager.
Three days after he had vanished, Mr Reeder came upon the scene. He was in his most apologetic mood. He apologised for being called in three days after he should have been called in; he apologised to the gloomy Chairman for the offence of his unfaithful servant; he apologised for being wet (he carried a furled umbrella on his arm) and by inference regretted his side-whiskers, his hat and his tightly-fitting coat.
The Chairman, by some odd process of mind, felt that a considerable amount of responsibility had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Now, Mr Reeder, you see exactly what has happened, and the bank is leaving everything in your hands. Perhaps it would have been wiser if we’d called you in before.”
Mr Reeder plucked up spirit to say that he thought it might have been.
“Here are the reports,” said the General Manager, pushing a folder full of large, imposing manuscript sheets. “The police have not the slightest idea where he’s gone to, and I confess that I never expect to see Hallaty or the money again.”
Mr Reeder scratched his chin.
“It would be improper in me if I said that I hope I never do,” he sighed. “It’s the Tynedale case all over again, and the Manchester and Oldham Bank case, and the South Devon Bank case – in fact – um – there is here the evidence of a system, sir, if I may venture to suggest such a thing.”
The General Manager frowned.
“A system? You mean all these offences against the banks you have mentioned are organised?”
Mr Reeder nodded.
“I think so, sir,” he said gently. “If you will compare one with the other you will discover, I think, that in every case the Manager has, on one pretext or another, converted large sums of English currency into francs or dollars, that his last operation has been in London, and that he has vanished when the discovery of his defalcations has been made.”
The General Manager shivered, for Reeder was presenting to him the ogre of the banking world – the organised conspirator. Only those who understand banking know just what this means.
“I hadn’t noticed that,” he said; “but undoubtedly it is a fact.”
3
Other people had observed these sinister happenings. A bankers’ association summoned an urgent meeting, and Mr Reeder, an authority upon bank crimes, was called into consultation. In such moments as these Reeder was very practical, not at all vague. Rather was he definite – and when Mr Reeder was definite he was blood-curdling. He came to a sensational point after a very diffident beginning.
“There are some things – er – gentlemen, to which I am loath to give the authority of my support. Theories which – um – belong to the more sensational press and certainly to no scientific system. Yet I must tell you, gentlemen, that in my opinion we are for the first time face to face with an organised attempt to rob the banks on the grand scale.”
The president of the association looked at him incredulously.
“You don’t mean to suggest, Mr Reeder, that there is a definite co-ordination between these various frauds?”
Mr Reeder nodded solemnly.
“They have that appearance. I would not care to give a definite opinion one way or the other, but I certainly would not rule that out.”
One member of the association shook his white head.
“There are such things as crimes of imitation, Mr Reeder. When some man steals money in a peculiar way, other weak-minded individuals follow suit.”
Mr Reeder smiled broadly.
“I’m afraid that won’t do, sir,” he said
Similar Books
