"The whole thing is a con-game on a gigantic scale,page 240
operated with the help of two factors," he said, "the gullibility of the well-to-do, and the innocence of milk-sops as yourself. Of course, there's something genuine about it, or your poor fish would not bite. Why, he's been selling this thing through such as yourself for six or ten years, at all kinds of prices, getting rich on the fat of the land. He shows you the bindings, and they are the only thing that's worth a Tinker's damn in the whole get-up. He has to spend some fifty dollars or so a set on that. As for myself, I've been in it so long I've got used to it; while I'm making money, I have no kick. The public seems satisfied to be bled. Only, I can't understand why he is getting so darn careless. Three sets in a small town, that's more than I should risk, with the whole U.S. full of suckers to choose from. At least, when you're screwing the prices up so that it amounts to wholesale robbery."
"Well," I objected, "if the thing were honest otherwise, I could not see anything wrong in it if he sold every citizen in a one-horse town of five hundred."
"Greed I call it," exclaimed Mr. Williams. "People are bound to get together in the long run and compare notes. Duplications in numbers are apt to crop out."
"Duplications?" I asked stupidly.
"Of course," he said. "You don't for a moment fall for that gaff about a limited edition, do you? The thing has been sold, as I said, for more than six years. The swallowing capacity of the public is its only limit. At first Wilbur may not have thought of going beyond a thousand copies at a hundred and fifty per. But the first fifty thousand which he cleared came too easily. He branched out, got a sumptuous office, a car, and so on. He actually seemed to fill a demand. I tell you, whenever he steps out, he'll first salt down a cool million or so."
After this, we did not talk any longer. I felt as if the earth under my feet had given way. I could have cried with blind fury.
We were passing through the landscape of the upper part of the state. A year ago I had passed through it, too,page 241
on my first, ill-fated trip to New York. I thought of that trip and of what the interval had brought. Sometimes to-day, in thinking back, over the gulf of the years, of the days of my childhood, I feel a similar contrast. Joy, innocence, the length of days, the unbounded confidence in myself, all that is gone. Weariness, the rapid succession of seasons, a doubtful appraisal of myself -- that is what has taken its place. I had no eyes for the Adirondacks, none for river-valley and gorge. Again there was a veil of gloom over everything, that smoky haze which had lain over Hudson River and Palisades, that morning in Riverside Park. Where did I stand? What was I to do?
I thought of the orders which I had taken during the spring and early summer. The enjoyment of those rambles through the New England hills was spoiled even in memory. I could not think of Dr. Watson and his friends but with shame. Why was it that the memory of pleasant encounters had to be soiled and sullied for me through none of my fault? Was I indeed destined to be ground to pieces?
I was not going to partake in the business at our destination. But I had a return-ticket and, therefore, might just as well go on and sit in the train as anywhere else. It was just that: I did no longer dare to touch anything. If with my best intentions I had succeeded only in becoming the involuntary accomplice of a swindler, what was I to do? Already a year and more of my life on American soil had been hopelessly wasted!
We arrived in our town and registered in the best hotel.
Strange to say, after supper even Williams seemed to be in a softer mood than was usual with him. I told him I was not going to go on with it.
"I don't know as I blame you," he said. "But listen here, Branden. Come along with me to-morrow. I feel shaky myself. I'll consider it as a favour. Since you've come along so far, don't leave me just now. I was a fool to come out. Hunches are nonsense, of course. But I'm unnerved. To you nothing can happen, you know."
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"If it's any help to you," I said, "I'll see you through."
"Thanks," he replied.
Nobody could have said that I had had no warning.
Next morning Mr. Williams arranged for an interview with one of our three prospects. The hour named was three o'clock in the afternoon.
When we arrived at the address, a stenographer took our cards into an inner office. We were told to enter.
The room into which we came was a small, prIvate office, the greater part of the floor-space being taken up by a large flat-topped desk in golden oak. At the centre of one side of it sat a heavy man with clean-shaven face and short-cropped grey hair. Opposite him sat two men, one tall and slender, the other medium-sized and somewhat stout; both were reclining in arm-chairs; the taller of the two was smoking.
I felt at once that a storm was in the air when I saw the three pairs of eyes which were fixed upon us as we entered.
"Mr. Williams?" the one who sat by himself enquired, rising.
Mr. Williams acknowledged his identity by shaking hands.
"And Mr. Branden?" the man went on, turning to me. Then he named his two friends by way of introduction.
The three men on whom we were to call were assembled here! That could not possibly be without significance.
"Whom of you two am I to address?" the man at the desk asked with a smile. "Or do you both represent the North American Historians?"
I noticed that the taller one of the other two had drawn a sheet of foolscap towards himself; he was ready to take notes.
"I am responsible here," said Mr. Williams, turning pale; "Mr. Branden has just severed his connection with the house. He came along as my friend."
"Well, Mr. Williams " the stranger went on, "will you be kind enough to answer a few questions?"
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"I don't understand," said Williams. "I came to give you particulars about a set of books you were supposed to be interested in."
The stranger laughed. "I have the books," he said. "We all three have the books, and you know it." A motion of his hand embraced his two friends on the opposite side of the desk.
"That so?" said Mr. Williams with remarkable coolness. "I hope you like them."
The three men laughed.
"We do," the spokesman replied. "But, as I have said before, I have a question or two which I should like to have answered."
"Shoot," said Williams.
"You are selling a limited edition, are you not?"
"We are, of sorts."
"The sets are numbered?"
"They are."
"A strange thing has cropped out; quite by chance, as such things are apt to do."
"What is it?" Williams was getting impatient.
"This gentleman there and myself we have both the same number."
"What is the number?" Williams shot back.
"Fourteen," came the answer.
Williams laughed lightly. "But gentlemen," he said, "perhaps you are aware of the fact that quite a few people are superstitious and would not accept a set with the number thirteen. So it is our rule, in limited editions, to duplicate either the twelve or the fourteen."
The three men laughed again.
"You've got your nerve with you," the spokesman said at last. "If you can explain the other difficulties away as slickly as you did this one, we'll let you off; just for the fun of it. It was rather a mistake," he went on, turning to his friends, "to let these fellows know beforehand what it was about. They've had plenty of time to prepare their excuses."
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When Williams heard this remark, he sat up.
"What's that?" he snapped. "Did you write in to headquarters about your complaints?"
Again the three men laughed.
"Did we?" asked one of them.
But Williams was on his feet now. He bent forward with such an expression of earnestness on his face that their laughter died out.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I'll be brief. You have been the victims of a crooked game. I am only an agent. You don't want to get me; you want to get the crook."
"And let you skip? Not much. You sell the books. It's you we've got. We'll trace the rest of the gang through you."
"Never mind about me," Williams shouted. "I'll turn state's evidence I'll help you all I can. I was willing enough to shield the fellow; but now I tell you, get Wilbur before it's too late."
"How too late?"
"Don't you see that he is making his get-away?"
"How can you know unless you're in with him yourself?"
"By putting two and two together, gentlemen. For God's sake, don't waste time. Don't you see?" He spoke faster and faster. "Neither I nor Branden here were told anything at the New York office except that there were three prospects in this town. He sent us out because by doing so he kept you from going right after him and at the same time he got rid of us at New York. The dirty beggar tried to play us off for a chance to skip and to cover his tracks. He uses his agents and gets them into a beastly mess and expects them besides to go to jail for him. Take Branden here. Why did he send him up? Because he is innocent. Till yesterday he did not know that every word in the gaff he gives the suckers isn't gospel-truth. When I told him, he refused to go on with the work. I had a hunch that we should have trouble, and I begged him to
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come along, or he wouldn't be here. I'll turn state's evidence. But get him, Wilbur, the tricky skunk!"
He had spoken with such convincing vehemence that, when he finished, every one in the room was on his feet.
"I'll go," said the taller one of the friends and reached for his hat. "Wait for me here."
An anticlimax followed. Williams explained in detail how the scheme was worked. When the tall man returned they told me, after a short discussion conducted in a whisper, that they had agreed to leave me out of the proceedings. But for the time being I remained with them, for I was curious how things would develop.
Two hours later a messenger-boy appeared and handed the tall man a yellow envelope.
He tore it open, shrugged, and said, "Williams was right. The bird is flown."