University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
THE CONCLAVE.

The boot-black had not been singing more than two-thirds of a
minute, when a second voice was heard from the room beneath the
poet's. It was that of Kaleb Kemp, the cobbler. It was shrill and
broken, and by no means had that volume of melody that Handy
poured forth from his lungs. The words of Mr. Kemp's song
reached the amazed ears of the conclave:—

Then, by way of a rapping chorus, the little cobbler began to play
a lively rap-a-tap in turn upon lap-stone.

“Bless me!” ejaculated the heavy gentleman; “you seem to
have a merry set of lodgers!”

“And confounded noisy,” observed the thin gentleman in spectacles,
very positively.

“And as independent as emperors,” remarked Mr. Swindle, with
a confirmatory emphasis.

“I don't see, 'pon honor, how you live here, Satchell,” suggested
Mr. Pindle, as Handy, not to be outdone by the cobbler, his neighbor,
struck up the next verse of his song in a louder key.

“They pay me rent, gentlemen; and one will, you know, put up
with a great many things for money. I can't rent my house, except
to such people; and, to tell you the truth, I have no objections
to a little vocal music now and then.”

“You are fond of poetry, I presume, too,” sarcastically observed
the consumptive gentleman, after a severe spasm of coughing, in a
tone so hollow that he seemed to be coughing into the mouth of a
hogshead. This remark was elicited by another outburst from the
poet in the adjoining chamber:—

Here the combined lungs of the cobbler and Handy drowned the
poet's less vigorous voice, and for a moment it seemed as if the
“conclave” in the lawyer's room would break up in confusion.
Satchell saw this, and stamped with his feet upon the floor to silence
the boot-black, and, rising, knocked upon the partition to stop
the heroic recitations of the poet. The cobbler, however, being
beyond the influence of his landlord's authority, kept still on with
his scraps of songs, interlarded with hammering upon his lap-stone,
but not to the interruption of the business of the meeting.

“Now, gentlemen, if you will listen to me, I will finish what
I was saying,” observed the lawyer. “All your arrangements
made as I have said, one of you—Mr. Pindle, for instance—will
start forth on a sunny morning to see who wants to sell. You
must seek some new firm, Mr. Pindle; for new firms are more
anxious to sell than old ones, are less likely to suspect, and are less
keen at a bargain than your old establishments. Generally, you
will find them over-solicitous to make a trade, and will be satisfied
if your references say you are good, though they never saw either
of their faces before. An old firm will generally require references
from references, until they follow the scent up to some persons they
well know are responsible. You will therefore seek out a new
firm.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Mr. Pindle, who was listening with the
greatest attention, as also were the rest. “But this would not have

occurred to me! What a confounded long head you have, Mr.
Satchell!”

Mr. Satchell did not seem to be particularly moved by this compliment
to the shrewdness of his roguery, and thus resumed:—

“When you have fixed your eye upon such a firm, green and
over-anxious to sell, you go in with a bold face, and walk up to the
desk with the air of a man who has ten thousand dollars in his
pocket-book to buy with. You will pass the compliments of the
day, such as a cheerful `Good day, sir! how do you do, sir?' If
he answers you in the same way, you will immediately proceed to
business, saying, `Sir, I see, by the morning's paper, that you have
on sale fifteen barrels tapioca, and twenty baskets. We have just
had an order for twelve barrels, which we must fill up forthwith.
What is your price?' `We have the article,' your merchant will
reply. `Should be glad to sell you. Our terms, cash, or approved
paper at sixty days, or ninety, as the case may be. You shall have
it cheaper than you can get it elsewhere in the market.' You will
then, having heard his price, Mr. Pindle, reply, that you are perfectly
satisfied, and at once tell him that you will take twelve
barrels, ordering him to send it to your store without delay. Then
you will hand him your card in an off-hand manner, saying, `Here
is our house-card, sir, and, as you see, with the most satisfactory
references.' The splendid card, with the firm of Moonshine,
Clouds & Co., with the respectable array of names as references,
will dazzle his eye. You then bow very politely, but hurriedly,
and, as you go out, you see some boxes of raisins and drums of figs.
You ask the price, and order fifty of one and seventy of the other
to be sent also; for `you recollect that you were desired to purchase
if you could find any fresh.'

“You will then take your departure, leaving the merchant congratulating
himself, and rubbing his hands together with satisfaction
at having got such a capital customer, and made such a prompt
and profitable sale of his merchandize. Let us imagine the scene.
A smile is upon his face, and he looks round upon his clerks like a
man who has drawn a prize in a lottery. `John!' he calls to his
confidential clerk. `Sir!' `Do you know any of these referees?'
`No, I do not, sir, but I dare say they are good. They look so.'
`Yes. Take your hat, and call upon one or two of them.' `Yes,
sir.' We now suppose our heavy friend here, with the bass voice,
is at his desk when John comes in. `Good morning, sir,' says
John, favorably impressed with the business-like air of the counting-room,
and still more favorably with the respectable appearance
of our friend here, who at once understands what his visitor wants.
`Good morning, sir!' he responds, blandly; `a fine day, sir.' `Yes,
sir. Here is a card, sir,' observes the clerk, `which bears your firm
as a reference.' And he politely lays it before our copartner. `All
correct, sir. Messrs. Moonshine, Clouds & Co. are rather a new
house, but perfectly good. You see by my books,' (for books are
to be presumed to show,) `that I have sold them thousands of dollars'
worth on credit and cash. I am ready to do it again, to any

amount they want.' This is said to the clerk in a very imposing
decided way, calculated to impress. The clerk bows, is satisfied,
takes his leave, and returns to the firm which sent him, which we
will call, for distinctness' sake, `Green & Shallow.' `Perfectly
satisfactory,' answers the clerk to the inquiring eye of Mr. Shallow,
as he enters the counting-room. `They showed me their books
where they had sold this firm hundreds and hundreds of dollars'
worth, both on cash and credit. They said they were ready to do
it again, and to any amount they might want. He says there are
not more punctual men in town, sir.'

“`Then, as all is right,' says Mr. Green, looking at Mr. Shallow,
`we will send the articles round at once. Michael!' he calls out
to his handcartman, `call a dray to take the raisins and figs, while
you load up with the tapioca; and have the goods all taken at once
to the counting-house of Messrs. Moonshine, Clouds & Co.'

“In the mean while,” resumed the lawyer to his listening auditors,
“we will suppose that, while the clerk went to see our heavy
friend here, Mr. Shallow, the junior partner, dropped in at the
counting-house of Moonshine & Co., to look about. Appearances
are satisfactory, very; and he returns, and so has reported to the
senior, before the clerk comes back with his glowing account.
Well, the articles are all sent off on drays and in handcart to the
place of business of the purchasers.”

“And now comes the rub, sir,” observed Mr. Swindle, who had
listened with admiration to the process of proceeding thus far.
“You ought to have been a merchant, Mr. Satchell. But I have
some curiosity to know how you are going to get the articles into
our possession; for, of course, the bill will be at once sent with
them.”

“You will find that it will take a lawyer to get along with the
affair at this crisis,” answered Mr. Satchell, with a secret smile of
conscious power. “Listen, gentlemen; for I wish to detail perfectly
to your understanding the whole plan of action by which, in
less than twenty-four hours after you commence business, you will
be able to retire with very handsome profits.”

There was a general movement to get a little nigher the speaker,
and ears were bent with the closest attention.

“Mr. Pindle having done his part of the business, that is, the
purchasing part, Mr. Swindle will now be ready to act. His
appearance—very respectable and grave, as you see, gentlemen—
will be all in his favor.” Here there was a spontaneous leveling
of the eyes at the person of Mr. Swindle, and apparently with approval.
Mr. Swindle withstood the inspection with that modesty
which was one of his remarkable characteristics. “The drays
arrive at the counting-room door of Moonshine, Clouds & Co. The
clerk, John, enters at the same moment, with the bill of articles,
receipted; the amount some three thousand dollars, which he
expects in five minutes to find represented in his pocket by a check
on a bank in State street. He enters, and glances round for Mr.
Pindle, the only one of the firm he has ever seen, and who, as he

had been given to understand by Mr. Pindle, represented the `Co.'
of the firm. But Mr. Pindle, at this particular moment, is not in.
But he sees Mr. Swindle, and, supposing him, from his respectable
appearance and gray hairs, to be the senior partner, he approaches
him, and suggests, very politely, that he probably has the pleasure
of addressing Mr. Moonshine, or Mr. Clouds. Mr. Swindle replies,
with a slight blush, that he has not the honor of being either of
those distinguished gentlemen; that his position is only a clerk.
Mr. John stares, but is confirmed in the stability of a house that
has such respectable clerks as Mr. Swindle. If the clerk is such a
weighty-looking personage, what must be the principals? He now
inquires where the firm is, and when they will either of them be in;
and, having seen Mr. Pindle already, he asks particularly for that
gentleman.

“`The firm are out,' responds Mr. Swindle, `and will be in in
the afternoon, or certainly in the morning before bank hours. If
you have any business, leave it with me, or call to-morrow.'

“`I have here the bill of the tapioca, raisins, and figs, which
your Mr. Pindle bought of our house, and the articles are delivered
at the door. Did he leave any instructions for you to settle it?'

“`No, he did not. He will, however, be in himself before long.
You had best wait,' answers Mr. Swindle, offering him a chair;
`or, if you will call again in an hour, you will be sure to find
him in.'

“The goods, in the mean while,” resumed the lawyer, are unladed
from the drays, and placed on the sidewalk. The clerk,
having no suspicion whatever, and not caring to wait, goes away,
with the intention of returning in an hour. The articles he will
leave behind, of course. He is no sooner out of sight with the
drays, than Pindle makes his appearance out of the safe-closet, and
immediately orders a new set of drays, piles on the articles, and
hurries them off to an auction-room, or to some dealer who will
buy at once, and turns them into cash. This operation you will
perform as many times in the day you open for business as possible;
and, if you are industrious, and faithful, and fortunate, you ought
to make at least forty thousand dollars by a single day's operation.
You can then vacate your places of business, and come here and
share your spoils. Now, gentlemen, you have the outline of my
plan,” concluded the lawyer, “and I submit it to your decision.”

“There could be none better—none better!” exclaimed the
conclave of rogues, unanimously.

“You deserve to be the prince of swindledom!” cried Pindle,
with exultation. “We can see with half an eye, from our experience
in business, that your plan will be easily carried out. What
a capital business man has been spoiled in your becoming a
lawyer!”

“You have shown great skill and depth, I must confess,” said
Swindle. “The whole plan seems to promise the most perfect
success.”

“I can make at least a dozen such operations in a day,” answered

Pindle. “'Pon honor, Satchell, you deserve a vote of thanks! I
rise, gentlemen, to propose —”

“Wait, Pindle!” cried the heavy gentleman; “wait till we
succeed. There is time enough then. I want to be sure that these
operations won't involve us, and get some of us into prison. There
is none of us here that cares a fig for a civil suit for debt; for, as
we have no characters to lose, nor money either, we can laugh at
such suits. Those who sue will have to pay the costs. But I feel
ticklish about the criminal law. Can you make us sure on that
point, Mr. Satchell?”

“Perfectly, sir. The statute I have discussed and examined
closely. You can go into this operation with perfect security that
the law can't touch you. You may buy for cash on delivery, or in
any other manner that will enable you to get possession of your
goods, without any fears. When once they are in your hands, and
are immediately carted off to some unknown quarter, they can't
of course trace them and get them back. They will then resort to
a civil suit, if they can find you, or perhaps a criminal one for obtaining
goods on false pretences. Neither of these, however, will
be of any avail. The former will only add to their `profit and
loss.' The latter, I assure you, gentlemen, has failed in every
instance where such rogues as you are—no offence meant—have
been criminally arraigned; for you are not the first gentlemen
whom I have advised legally in such operations. You go to the
District Attorney, and he will tell you—at least, he will tell your
victims—that he cannot convict. Thus, if you see fit to stand the
suit, you can do so, and keep open your counting-rooms after the
first day, and do your best to make further `operations' upon those
who do not know you. But there is some risk that your firm may
be warned against in the papers, by an advertisement signed by
your victims; so I would advise you, if your first day's operations
prove profitable, that you close the concern the same night, leaving
your desks, &c. to the carpenters and upholsterers who loaned them.
Now, gentlemen, it remains with you to go forward and bring my
plans into action.”

“And that we shall do at once,” answered Mr. Swindle.

After some further conversation and discussion of the minor
points of preparation, the conclave broke up and retired, to commence
operations on the ensuing day.[1]