attractive circular, setting forth in specious terms the extraordinary advantages of their system of betting. This circular was distributed broadcast through the country, accompanied by a copy of a sporting paper specially prepared for this particular purpose. It was the only copy of the paper that ever appeared, although it was numbered 1,713. It had been printed on purpose in Edinburgh, and was in every respect a complete journal, containing news up to date, advertisements, leading articles, columns of paragraphs and notices, several of which referred in the most complimentary language to a Mr. Hugh Montgomery—Benson’s alias in this fraud—and the excellence of his system of betting investment. It stated that this Mr. Hugh Montgomery, who had invented the system, had already netted nearly half a million of money by following its principles, and it was open to any to reap the same handsome profit. They had only to remit funds to the firm at any of their numerous offices in London, at Cleveland Road, Duke Street St. James’s, and elsewhere.
This brilliant scheme soon brought in a rich harvest. Many simple-minded French people swallowed the bait, and none more readily than a certain Comtesse de Goncourt, a lady of good estate, but with an unfortunate taste for speculation. The comtesse threw herself eagerly into the arrangement, and forwarded several substantial sums to London, which were duly invested for her with good results; for the old trick was followed of at first allowing her to win. Presently her transactions grew larger, till at last they reached the sum of £10,000. Several bogus cheques were sent her, purporting to be her winnings, but she was desired to hold them over until a certain date, in accordance with the English law. Yet these rapacious scoundrels were not satisfied with such large profits. They wrote to the poor comtesse that another £1,200 was necessary to complete certain formalities. As she was now nearly cleaned out, she tried to raise the money in Paris through her notary, and this led to the discovery of the whole fraud.
Meanwhile the conspirators had been living in comfort, pulling the wires from London. Benson had made himself safe, as he thought, by extending his system of suborning the police. Through Meiklejohn, a second officer, Druscovitch by name, who was especially charged with the Continental business of Scotland Yard, was approached and tempted. He was a well-meaning man, with a good record, but in very straitened circumstances, and he fell before the tempting offers of the insidious Benson. All this time Benson was living in good style at Shanklin, in the Isle of Wight. He had a charming house, named Rose Bank, a good cook and numbers of other servants, he drove a good carriage, and constantly entertained his friends. One of his accomplishments was music; he composed and sang charming French chansonettes with so much feeling that they were always loudly encored. Benson soon tried to inveigle another fly from Scotland Yard into his web. Scenting danger from the news that Inspector Clarke was hunting up certain sham betting offices, he invited him down to his little place at Shanklin. Benson did not succeed with Clarke, who, when placed on his trial with the other inspectors, was acquitted. He must have been sorely tried, for Benson showed consummate tact, and cleverly acted upon Clarke’s fears by seeming to incriminate him. Then he offered a substantial bribe, which, however, Clarke was honest enough to refuse.
When the storm broke Benson had early notice of the danger from his allies in the police. Druscovitch warned them that a big swindle had come in from Paris; it was theirs. Already the French police had begun to act against the firm. They had requested the Scotland Yard authorities, by telegraph, to intercept letters from Paris which, it was believed, contained large remittances. But Benson contrived to secure this telegram before it was delivered. Knowing that he had good friends, he held his ground; Druscovitch, on the other hand, became more and more uneasy, thinking that he could not shield his paymasters much longer. He had many secret interviews with them, and pleaded desperately that he must ere long arrest somebody, and he warned Benson to look out for himself. It was time for the conspirators to think about their means of retreat. So far they seem to have held the bulk of their booty in Bank of England notes, a very tell-tale commodity which could always be traced through the numbers. Benson solved this difficulty by deciding to change the Bank of England notes into Scottish notes, the numbers of which were not invariably taken on issue. Through Meiklejohn Benson got rid of £13,000 worth, travelling down to Alloa on purpose and getting Clydesdale Bank notes in exchange. To cover this operation, Benson had deposited £3,000 in the Alloa Bank. He was on very friendly terms with its manager, and was actually at dinner with him when a telegram was put into his hands warning him to decamp, for Druscovitch was on his way down with the warrant to arrest him. Benson bolted, but was, of course, obliged to forfeit his deposit of £3,000.
When Druscovitch arrived his game, of course, was gone. He still attempted to linger over the job, but the authorities were more in earnest than he was, and England became too hot for him. The exchange of Bank of England into Clydesdale notes was known, and so were some of the numbers of the latter. A watch was therefore set upon the holders of these notes, and Benson thought it wiser to escape to Holland. Soon after his arrival at Rotterdam he and his friends were arrested. But here, at the closing scene, while extradition was being demanded, another confederate, Froggatt, a low-class attorney, nearly succeeded in obtaining their release. He sent a forged telegram to the Dutch police, purporting to come from Scotland Yard, to the effect that the men they had got were the wrong people. The imposition was discovered just in time, and the prisoners were handed over to a party of London police, headed, strange to say, by Druscovitch in person. His complicity with the swindlers was not yet suspected, and he was compelled to carry out his orders. What passed between him and his friends is not exactly known, but Kurr and Benson, after the manner of their class, had no idea of suffering alone. That they should turn on their police assistants was a matter of course, and one of their first acts in Millbank Prison, where they were beginning their long terms of penal servitude, was to make a clean breast of it and implicate the detectives.
When Clarke, Druscovitch, Meiklejohn, and Palmer, with Froggatt, were put upon their trial, the facts, as already stated, were elicited, and it was found that the swindlers had long secured the connivance and support of all these officers, except Clarke. A letter, which was impounded, written by Meiklejohn to Kurr as far back as 1874, shows how eager Meiklejohn was to earn his money. It was an early notification of the issue of a warrant, and warned his friends to keep a sharp look out:—
“Dear Bill,—Rather important news from the North. Tell H. S. and the Young One to keep themselves quiet. In the event of a smell stronger than now they must be ready to scamper out of the way.”
For this important service Meiklejohn is believed to have received a douceur of £500. All these misguided men were sentenced to terms of imprisonment, and, as I have said before, the discovery of their faithlessness led to important changes in police constitution, and the creation of the Criminal Investigation Department.
I can remember Benson while he was a convict at Portsmouth, where he was employed at light labour, and might be seen hobbling on his crutches at the tail end of the gangs as they marched in and out of prison. He bore an exemplary prison character and was
released on ticket-of-leave in 1887, having fully earned his remission. He was not long in seeking new pastures, and soon used his versatile talents and many accomplishments in fresh schemes of fraud. It was his duty to report himself as a licence holder to the Metropolitan Police, but this did not suit so erratic a genius, and within a few months he was advertised for in the Police Gazette, a woodcut engraving of his features being accompanied with the following description of the man “wanted”:—
“Age 39, height 5 ft. 4 in., complexion sallow, hair, whiskers, beard, and moustache black (may have shaved), turning slightly grey, eyes brown, small scar under right eye, frequently pretends lameness, has a slouching gait, stoops slightly, head thrown forward, invariably smoking cigarettes.”
It will be seen from this that the use of crutches was not indispensable to him, but was probably assumed as a means of contusing his signalement. His many aliases were published with the description; some of the more remarkable were George Marlowe, George Washington Morton, Andrew Montgomery, Henry Younger (the name he went under at Rose Bank Cottage, Shanklin), Montague Posno, and the Comte de Montague.
Benson’s first act after release appears to have been to ascertain whether he had inherited anything from his father, whose death had occurred while he was in prison. Nothing had come to him, but his family did not quite disown him, for a brother offered to find him a situation. This Benson contemptuously refused, and took the first opportunity of reopening his relations with Kurr, who had been released a little earlier. Soon after this the police missed them, and they appear to have crossed the Atlantic and started in a new line as company promoters, mainly in connection with mines of a sham character. Benson seems to have done well in this nefarious business before he returned to Europe, when he made Brussels his headquarters and carried on the same business, the exploitation of mines. He appears to have gained the attention of the police, and the Belgian authorities communicated with those of Scotland Yard. Benson was now identified and arrested. At his lodgings were found a great quantity of letters containing Post Office orders and cheques, which seem to have been sent to him for investment in his bogus companies. Benson next did a couple of years’ imprisonment in a Belgian prison, and on his release transferred himself to Switzerland, setting up at Geneva as an American banker with large means. He stopped at the best hotels and betrayed all his old fondness for ostentation. Here he received many telegrams from his confederates, who were still “working” the United States, all of them connected with stocks and shares and the fluctuations of the market. He was in the habit of leaving these telegrams—which invariably dealt with high figures—about the hotel, throwing them down carelessly in the billiard-room, smoking-room, and other apartments, where they were read by others, and greatly enhanced his reputation.
At this hotel he became acquainted with a retired surgeon-general of the Indian army, with an only daughter, to whom he made desperate love. He lavished presents of jewellery upon her, and so won upon the father that he consented to the marriage. The old man was no less willing to entrust his savings to this specious scoundrel, and on Benson’s advice sold out all his property, some £7,000 invested in India stock. The money was transmitted to Geneva and handed over to Benson in exchange for certain worthless scrip which was to double the doctor’s income. Now, however, a telegram summoned Benson to New York, and he left hurriedly. His fiancée followed to the port at which he had said he would embark, but missed him. Mr. Churchward—Benson’s alias—had gone to another place, Bremen, to take passage by the North German Lloyd. The surgeon-general, trembling for his earnings, applied for a warrant, and Benson was arrested as he was on the point of embarkation. He was taken back to Geneva, but on refunding £5,000 out of the £7,000 he was liberated. It was now discovered that his presents to his fiancée were all in sham jewellery, and that the scrip he had given in exchange for the £7,000 was really worth only a few pounds. After this most brilliant coup Benson abandoned Europe, re-crossed the Atlantic, and resumed operations in America, He became the hero of many fraudulent adventures, the last of which led to his arrest. In the city of Mexico he impudently passed himself off as Mr. Abbey, Madame Patti’s agent, and sold tickets on her behalf to the amount of 25,000 dollars. This fraud was discovered; he was arrested and taken to New York, where he was lodged in the Tombs. While awaiting trial he committed suicide in gaol by throwing himself over the railings from the top storey, thus fracturing his spine.
MAX SHINBURN.
The career of Max Shinburn can hardly be cited in proof of the old saying that honesty is the best policy. This notorious criminal won a fine fortune, as well as much evil fame, by his dishonest proceedings between 1860 and 1880, and after sundry vicissitudes, ended in Belgium as a millionaire, enjoying every luxury amidst the pleasantest surroundings.
According to one account, Shinburn was a German Jew, who emigrated to the United States rather hurriedly to evade police pursuit. He found his way, it is said, to St. Louis, and soon got into trouble there as a burglar; his intimate knowledge of the locksmith trade was useful to the new friends he made, but did not save him from capture and imprisonment. Another story is that he was born in Pennsylvania of decent parents, was well educated, and in due course became a bank clerk. His criminal tendencies were soon displayed by his defalcations; he stole a number of greenbacks, and covered the theft by fraudulent entries in the books. This ended his career of humdrum respectability, and he was next heard of at Boston, where he robbed a bank by burglariously entering the vaults, by means of his skill as a locksmith. We have here some corroboration of the first account of his origin; if he had begun life as a clerk he could not well have acquired skill as a locksmith. It is strengthened by the fact that his largest and most remunerative “affairs” were accomplished by forcing doors and opening safes. It was said of him that he could walk into any bank, for he could counterfeit any key; and that no safe, combination or other, could resist his attack. The number of banks he plundered was extraordinary; the New Windsor Bank of Maryland, a bank in Connecticut, and many more, yielded before him; and in New England alone he amassed great sums.
Shinburn spent in wasteful excess all that he thus guiltily earned. He lived most extravagantly, at the best hotels, consorting with the showiest people; he was to be seen on all racecourses, “plunging” wildly, and at the faro tables, where he played high. This continued for years. He escaped all retribution until a confederate betrayed him in connection with the wrecking of the Concord Bank, when at least 200,000 dollars was secured and divided among the gang. He was taken at Saratoga, the fashionable watering-place, and his arrest caused much sensation in the fast society of which he was so prominent a member.
Max Shinburn’s consignment to gaol checked his baleful activity, but not for long. His fame as a high-class gentleman criminal secured him considerate treatment, which, on the loose system of many American gaols, meant that his warders and he were on very familiar terms. One evening Shinburn called an officer to his cell, and after a short gossip at the door, invited him inside. Next moment he had seized the warder by the throat, overpowered him, and captured his keys. Then, making his victim fast, he walked straight out of the prison.
Once more taken and incarcerated, he once more escaped. This time, by suborning his warders, he obtained the necessary tools for sawing through the prison bars, and thus regained freedom. He soon resumed his old practices, and on a much larger and more brilliant scale. One of his chief feats was the forcing of the vaults of the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company, at Whitehaven, Pennsylvania, from which he abstracted 56,000 dollars. He somehow contrived to obtain impressions of the locks, and manufactured the keys.
The famous detective, Pinkerton, was called in, and soon guessed that Shinburn had been at work. Some of the confederates were arrested, and presently Shinburn was taken, but only after a desperate encounter. Now, to ensure safe custody, the prisoner was handcuffed to one of Pinkerton’s assistants, and both were locked up in a room at the hotel. Yet Shinburn, during the night, contrived to pick the lock of the handcuff by means of the shank of his scarf-pin, and, shaking himself free, slipped quietly away. He fled to Europe, and paid a first visit to Belgium, but went back to the States to make one last grand coup. This was the robbery of the Ocean Bank in New York, from which he took £50,000 in securities, notes, and gold. With this fine booty he returned to Belgium, bought himself a title, and—at least outwardly—lived the life of an honest and respectable citizen. We have seen that Sheridan, another American “crook,” spent some years in Brussels, and it is strongly suspected that he and Shinburn were concerned in the famous mail train robbery and other great crimes in Belgium.
CHAPTER XVI.
SOME FEMALE CRIMINALS.
Criminal Women worse than Criminal Men—Bell Star—Comtesse Sandor—Mother M——, the famous female Receiver of Stolen Goods—The “German Princess”—Jenny Diver—The Baroness de Menckwitz—Emily Lawrence—Louisa Miles—Mrs. Gordon-Baillie: Her dashing Career: Becomes Mrs. Percival Frost: The Crofter’s Friend: Triumphal Visit to the Antipodes: Extensive Frauds on Tradesmen: Sentenced to Penal Servitude—A Viennese Impostor—Big Bertha, the “Confidence Queen.”
IT has been universally agreed that criminal women are the worst of all criminals. “A woman is rarely wicked,” runs the Italian adage, “but when she is so, she is worse than a man.” We must leave psychologists to explain a fact which is well known to all who have dealings with the criminal classes. No doubt, as a rule, women have a weaker moral sense; they come more under the influence of feeling, and when once they stray from the right path they wander far, and recovery is extremely difficult. Many succumb altogether, and are merged in the general ruck of commonplace, habitual criminals. Now and again a woman rises into the first rank of offenders, and some female criminals may be counted amongst the most remarkable of all depredators. One of these appeared in Texas not many years ago, and, as a female outlaw, the head and chief controlling spirit of a great gang, she long spread terror through that State.
BELL STAR
was the daughter of a guerilla soldier, who had fought on the side of the South, and she was nursed among scenes of bloodshed. When little more than a child she learnt to handle the lasso, revolver, carbine, and bowie knife with extraordinary skill. As she grew up
she developed great strength, and became a fearless horsewoman, riding wild, untamed brutes that no one else would mount. It is told of her that she rode twice and won races at a country meeting, dressed once as a man and once as a woman, having changed her attire so rapidly that the trick was never discovered. She was barely eighteen when she was chosen to lead the band, which she ruled with great firmness and courage, dominating her associates by her superior intelligence, her audacity, and her personal charm. Her exploits were of the most daring description; she led organised attacks on populous cities, entering them fearlessly, both before and after the event, disguised in male attire. On one occasion she sat at the table d’hôte beside the judge of the district, and heard him boast that he knew Bell Star by sight, and would arrest her wherever he met her. Next day, having mounted her horse at the door of the hotel—still in man’s clothes—she summoned the judge to come out, told him who she was, slashed him across the face with her riding-whip, and galloped away. Bell Star’s band was constantly pursued by Government troops; many pitched battles were fought between them, in one of which this masculine heroine was slain.
Another woman of the same class was of French extraction, and known in the Western States under the sobriquet of “Zelie.” She also commanded a band of outlaws, and was ever foremost in acts of daring brigandage, fighting, revolver in hand, always in the first rank. She was a woman of great intellectual gifts and many accomplishments, spoke three languages fluently, and was of very attractive appearance. She is said to have died of hysteria in a French lunatic asylum.
Many other instances of this latter-day development of the criminal woman may be quoted. There was at Lyons an American adventuress and wholesale thief who, having enriched herself by robbery in the United States, crossed to Europe and continued her depredations until arrested in Paris. La Comtesse Sandor, as she was called, was another of this type, who went about Europe disguised as a man, and as such gained the affections of the daughter of a wealthy Austrian, whom she actually married. Theodosia W., again, made a large fortune in St. Petersburg as a receiver of stolen goods, and managed her felonious business with remarkable astuteness.
“MOTHER M——.”
Another notorious female receiver was “Mother M——,” of New York, who, with her husband, kept a haberdashery shop in that city towards the end of the ’seventies. They were Jews, and keen traders. Their shop was a perfectly respectable establishment on the surface. The proper assortment of goods was on hand to supply the needs of regular customers. “Mother M——” served in the shop herself, assisted by her two daughters, and did so good a business that they might have honestly acquired a competence. But she was in a hurry to grow rich and had no conscientious scruples. She soon opened relations with thieves of all descriptions, and was prepared to buy all kinds of stolen goods. Her dealings were said to be enormous; they extended throughout the United States and beyond—to Canada, Mexico, even to Europe.
As time went on she developed into the champion and banker of her criminal customers. Under cover of her shop she ran a “bureau for the prevention of detection,” and was always ready to bribe police officers who were corruptible, or throw them off the scent, and for due consideration she would arrange for the defence of accused persons. It was said that she had secured in advance the services of celebrated criminal lawyers of New York by paying them a retaining fee of 5,000 dollars a year. When any of her clients were laid by the heels, she acted as their banker, providing funds if required, and helping to support their wives and families while they were in custody. She was extremely cautious in her methods. No one was admitted to the office behind the shop, where the real business was done, without introduction and voucher. “Mother M——” allowed none of the “swag” to come to the shop. The bulk of the proceeds of any robbery was first stored, and the receiver invited to send an agent to examine and report upon it. Having estimated its value, she then proceeded to haggle over the price, which eventually she paid in cash, taking over the whole of the property and accepting all the risks of its disposal. As a general rule, she secreted it or shipped it off, and generally succeeded in escaping detection. Once or twice, however, she came to grief. The proceeds of a great silk robbery were found in her possession, but on arrest and trial she was acquitted. At last, in 1884, New York became too hot to hold her, and she crossed the frontier into Canada, and she is said to be still there, living a quiet, respectable life. If report is to be trusted, she regrets New York and the large circle of friends and acquaintances she had gathered round her. In the days of her great activity she kept open house for thieves of both sexes, gave handsome entertainments, employed a good cook, and had a full cellar of choice wines. She enjoyed an excellent reputation also as a liberal supporter of the Synagogue and Jewish charities, and was generally esteemed.
THE “GERMAN PRINCESS.”
Female sharpers have abounded in every age and country. The feminine mind is so full of resource, a woman can be so inventive,
so clever in disguising frauds and keeping up specious appearances, that we come upon the female adventuress continually. As far back as the seventeenth century there was the celebrated “German Princess,” who took in everyone right and left. Although she was nothing more than a common thief, the daughter of a chorister in Canterbury Cathedral, and the wife of a shoemaker, she passed herself off at Continental watering-places as the ill-used child of a sovereign prince of the German Empire. At Spa she became engaged to a foolish old gentleman of large estate, and absconded with all her presents before the wedding-day. Then she established herself at a London tavern and, as an act of great condescension, married the landlord’s brother, who suddenly found that she was a bigamist and a cheat. Her committal to Newgate followed, but on her release she resumed her rôle as the “German Princess” and went on the stage to play in a piece named after her, and the plot of which was founded on the strange ill-usage of this high-born lady. After this she resumed her robberies and led a life of vagabondage, in which she swindled tradesmen, especially jewellers, out of much valuable property. Fate presently overtook her and landed her at the plantations as a convict; but even in Jamaica her effrontery gained her the friendship of the governor, and she soon returned to England to resume her career as a rich heiress, whereby she duped many foolish people and committed numbers of fresh robberies. One day, however, the keeper of the Marshalsea prison, who was on the look-out for some stolen goods, called at the lodging which she occupied, recognised her, and carried her off to gaol. She was soon identified as a convict who had returned from transportation, and her adventurous career presently ended on the gallows.
JENNY DIVER.
Mary Young, alias Jenny Diver, was of the same stamp as the “German Princess,” but in a somewhat lower grade and of a later date. Her business was chiefly pocket-picking, her adroitness in which gained her her sobriquet, as one who “dived” deep into other people’s pockets. She was an Irish girl in service, who formed an acquaintance with a thief, and accompanied him to London. The man was arrested on the way, and Mary Young, arriving alone and helpless, soon joined a countrywoman, Ann Murphy, and tried to earn her livelihood by her needle. Murphy told her of a more lucrative way of life, and introduced her to a club near St. Giles’s, where thieves of both sexes assembled to practise their business, and she was taught how to pick pockets, steal watches, and cut off reticules. She soon displayed great dexterity. An early feat, which gained her great renown, was that of stealing a diamond ring from the finger of a young gentleman who helped her to alight from a coach. Another clever trick of hers was to wear false arms and hands, while her own were concealed beneath her cloak, to be used as occasion offered. It was her custom to attend churches, and, when seated in a crowded pew, make play on either side. Another clever device was to join the crowd assembled to see a State procession. She would be attended by a footman and by several accomplices. Seizing a favourable opportunity, between the Park and Spring Gardens, she pretended to be taken seriously ill, and while the crowd pressed round her with kindly help, her confederates took advantage of the confusion to lay hands on all they could “lift”; jewels, watches, snuffboxes of great value were thus secured. Yet again, accompanied by her footman, she would pretend to be taken ill at the door of a fine house and send her servant in to know if she might be admitted until she recovered. While the occupants, who willingly acceded to her request, were seeking medicines she snapped up all the cash and valuables she could find. But she was at last arrested in the very act of picking a gentleman’s pocket and was transported to Virginia, whence she returned before the completion of her sentence and resumed her malpractices. Having made a successful tour through the provinces, she returned to London, frequented the Royal Exchange, the theatres, the Park, and other places of the sort, where she preyed continually on the public and with continued immunity from arrest, till she was caught picking a pocket on London Bridge and was again sentenced to transportation. Again she returned, within a year, and was finally arrested, tried a third time, and sentenced to death.
THE BARONESS DE MENCKWITZ.
The type of Jenny Diver was not uncommon then or since, and many names might be quoted in proof of this. A very notorious female swindler came over to England towards the end of the eighteenth century, and managed to defraud numbers of London tradespeople of considerable sums. Her plan of procedure was always the same: to pass herself off as a lady of distinction, take a house in a good part of the town, furnish it on credit, make away with the goods, and then abscond. She was arrested again and again, and spent much time in Newgate or the Fleet Prison. One device was to open a picture gallery where busts and portraits were on sale, which she had obtained, the first from an Italian image boy, the second from credulous dealers. Sometimes she got a bill discounted on the strength of having a consignment of wax figures detained in the Custom House. She set up an establishment as a “fancy dress-maker” in Half Moon Street, Piccadilly, but the house was only a cloak to debauchery and malpractices.
In carrying out these various frauds and crimes she assumed many aliases, and was now Miss Price, next Mrs. Douglas or Lady
Douglas, Mrs. Wray, Mrs. Hughes, and finally, having joined forces with a German swindler whose acquaintance she had made in the Fleet Prison, she took rank as the Baroness de Menckwitz. This Menckwitz was a dismissed lieutenant from the Imperial service, who had committed many depredations in Vienna, and was much “wanted” by the Imperial police. A handbill circulated at the time described him as twenty-eight years of age, about the middle height, hair inclined to be reddish and worn after the English fashion “tied and in a bag”; in the face he was blotched, had grey eyes, was rather thin but well made, and he usually wore the cross of the Holy Order of St. Stanislas on his breast.
His associate, who had passed also as a Baroness de Kenentz, was described in the same handbill as five feet in height, rather thin, but of strong build, having quite black hair and eyebrows, somewhat brown complexion, black eyes, and wearing her hair “quite negligent or loose without powder.” To this physical signalement a contemporary account adds: “She has the tongue of a siren, the bite of an asp, and the fangs of a harpy.... She is devoid of every particle of gratitude, and would sacrifice the best friend the moment her turn is served.... Her art is so excessive that though you were warned against her, she would find out new ways to deceive you,” and more to the same effect.
Together this precious pair made a fine harvest for a time. They took a house in Somerset Street, Portman Square, for six months, and hired a set of servants; also a chariot, “the better to carry on their depredations.” They now pawned the plate they had obtained by fraud in Vienna. A most elaborate scheme of fraud was practised on a London merchant, to whom they presented themselves armed with a bill of exchange drawn in Hamburg, and on the strength of which they obtained a loan of £100. This they repaid, but obtained a fresh loan of £1,100, covered by the pledge of a diamond ring. This sum was needed, they pretended, to complete the purchase of a large stud of horses for the Grand Duke Ferdinand, which was on the point of being shipped at Yarmouth. They furthermore represented that the Baron was about to be appointed Austrian Ambassador in the room of Count Starenberg, on the eve of being recalled. On these pretences the loan was advanced, and only partly repaid. Other frauds were perpetrated upon jewellers, who parted with valuables, which the two Menckwitzes pledged. For this they were arrested; but the London merchant backed their bail, entirely to his own loss.
After this the woman deserted her companion and took the name of Douglas, to pursue her depredations her own way, and to meet with the requital at last that she deserved.
EMILY LAWRENCE.
Before passing on to more recent female swindlers, it may be interesting to mention briefly one or two who were well known between 1850 and 1870. Emily Lawrence, a dashing adventuress and adroit, daring thief, had few equals. She is described as a most ladylike and fascinating person, who was received with effusion when she descended from her brougham at a shop door and entered to give her orders. Her line was jewel robbery, which she effected on a large scale. At one time she was “wanted” for stealing “loose” diamonds in Paris to the value of £10,000. Soon afterwards she was arrested for other jewel robberies at Emanuel’s, and at Hunt and Roskell’s, in London. Imprisonment for seven years followed, after which she resumed her operations, now choosing for the scene of her depredations Brighton, where she stole jewels worth £1,000 while she engaged the shopman with her fascinating conversation. Apprehended as she was leaving Brighton, she asserted that she was a lady of rank, but a London detective who came down soon proved the contrary, and she again got seven years. It was always said that this extraordinary woman carried a number of valuable diamonds with her to Millbank penitentiary, and succeeded in hiding them there. A tradition obtains that the jewels were never unearthed, and that the secret of the hiding-place long survived among the fraternity of thieves. Women, it was said, came as prisoners almost voluntarily, in order to carry out their search for the treasure, and a thousand devices were tried to secure a lodging in the cell where the valuables were said to be concealed. Whether they were found and taken safely out of Millbank we shall never know. Probably the whole story is a fable, and it is at least certain that no jewels were discovered when Millbank was destroyed, root and branch, a few years ago (1895), to make way for the National Gallery of British Art.
LOUISA MILES.
Louisa Miles was another of the Emily Lawrence class, who kept her own carriage for purposes of fraud, and called herself by several fine names. One day she drove up to Hunt and Roskell’s as Miss Constance Browne, to select jewels for her sick friend, Lady Campbell. Giving a good West End address, and a banker’s reference, she asked that the valuables might be sent home on approbation. When an assistant brought them, he was told Lady Campbell was too ill to leave her room, and they must be taken in to her. He demurred at first, then yielded, and never saw the jewels again. After waiting nervously for half an hour the assistant found he was locked in. When the police arrived to release him the ladies had disappeared, and with them the jewels. The house had been hired furnished, the carriage also was hired, as well as the footman in livery. Pursuit was quickly organised, and Miss Constance Browne was captured in a second-class carriage on the Great Western Railway, with a quantity of the stolen jewels in her possession, and was sentenced to penal servitude.
MRS. GORDON-BAILLIE.
The modern female sharper is generally more inventive than were her predecessors, and works on more ambitious lines, although there is little to choose between the old and the new in criminality. If the “German Princess” had had the same scope, the same large theatre of operations, she would probably have outdone even the famous Mrs. Gordon-Baillie, whose extensive frauds gained her a sentence of five years’ penal servitude. This ingenious person long turned the credulity of the British public to her own advantage, and, posing as a lady of rank and fashion, became noted for her heartfelt philanthropy, her eager desire to help the distressed. It was in 1886 that a certain Mrs. Gordon-Baillie appeared before the world as the champion and friend of the crofters of Skye; a dashing and attractive lady, in the possession of ample funds, which she freely lavished in the interests of her protégés. No one knew who she was or where she came from, but she was accepted at her own valuation, and much appreciated, not only in the island of Skye, when she was “on the stump,” but also in the West End of London, and by the best society. She made a sensation wherever she went. She was a tall, light-haired, fresh-complexioned woman, much given to gorgeous apparel, and her fine presence and engaging ways gained her admission to many good houses. Her movements were chronicled in society papers; she was often interviewed by the reporters, and she had a bank balance and a cheque-book as a client of one of the oldest banks in London.
All this time the popular Mrs. Gordon-Baillie was a swindler and a thief, whose chequered career had commenced by a term of imprisonment in the general prison of Perth, who indulged in several aliases, had been twice married, and was so deeply engaged in shady transactions that she had been very much “wanted,” and had only evaded pursuit by changing her identity. She was born of humble parents at Peterhead—her mother having been a servant, her father a small farmer—and first became known to criminal fame about 1872 as a pretty, engaging young person who had swindled the tradesmen of Dundee. She was there convicted of obtaining goods under false pretences, having hired and furnished a smart villa, where she lived in luxurious comfort until arrested for not paying the bills. She was at this time Miss Mary Ann Sutherland Bruce, her own name, and she retained it after her release, when she returned to her swindling courses, this time in Edinburgh, whence she was obliged to bolt. Her movements were now erratic; she passed rapidly from London to Paris, from Paris to Rome, Florence, Vienna, visiting all the principal cities of Europe, and leaving behind her unpaid tradesmen and disappointed landlords, but turning up smiling in new places, and soon securing new friends. As a proof of her audacity, about this time she made overtures to buy a London newspaper, and to start in the management of a London theatre. She was now resident in a pretty house near Regent’s Park, with a lady companion, a brougham, and a well-mounted establishment. Once again fate checked her career, in the shape of warrants for fraudulent pretences, and she found it advisable to disappear. When next she rose above the surface it was in a new aspect, with a new name. She was now Miss Ogilvie White, sometimes Mrs. White. During this period she was summoned at the Mansion House by a cabman, and was described as of York Terrace, Regent’s Park.
Her first appearance as Mrs. Gordon-Baillie was in 1885, when she became intimately acquainted with an old baronet, a gentleman on the other side of eighty, now inclining to dotage. Under his auspices she launched out again, had a charming house in the West End, and money was plentiful for a time. It was a costly acquaintance for him; when the supplies ran short (and she seems to have extracted quite £18,000 from him) she easily persuaded him to accept bills for large amounts, which were readily discounted in the City until it was found there were “no effects” to meet them. The aged baronet was sued on all sides, and although his friends interposed declaring he was unable to manage his own affairs, having signed these acceptances under undue influence, a petition in bankruptcy was filed against him, so that the claims, which ran to thousands of pounds, might be thoroughly investigated. Mrs. Gordon-Baillie was much “wanted” in connection with these transactions. But she was not to be found, and it was reported that she had gone to Australia, although her visit to the Antipodes was really made at a later date.
It was about this time that she married privately—for she retained her more aristocratic surname—a certain Richard Percival Bodeley Frost. Her husband was fairly well born and had good connections, but he was put to hard shifts for a living, and found his account in floating the bills which his future wife was obtaining from the baronet above mentioned. The manipulation of these considerable sums gave him status as a man of substance, and he became largely engaged in company promoting, entering into contracts and other speculations. It was proved that he was at this time entirely without means, yet he contrived to get good backing from bankers in Lombard Street, and one City solicitor lent him £1,000 for a week or two on his note of hand. The money was never repaid, and when Mr. Frost was finally exposed he appeared in the bankruptcy court with liabilities to the tune of £130,000.
Meanwhile his wife had espoused the cause of the crofters of Skye. She appeared there in the depths of a severe winter, but, nothing daunted, went on stump through the island, received everywhere with enthusiasm by the crofters, whom she harangued on every possible occasion. Her charity was profuse, it was said, although the source of the funds she distributed was somewhat tainted. At the end of her tour she collected £70 towards the defence of the crofters about to be tried at Inverness, and for this notable service she was presented with an address signed by the member for Skye and others. Now she went out to Australia, partly on private business, partly to seek assistance for her crofters and acquire lands on which they might settle in the New World. Her visit was one long triumph. She was warmly greeted whereever she appeared. Colonial statesmen gladly fell in with her views, and when she returned to England, it was with a grant of 70,000 acres from the Government of Victoria.
Frost, to whom she was no doubt married, joined her in Australia, and the couple returned to England as Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. She, however, resumed the name of Gordon-Baillie, and as such embarked upon a new career of swindling, which was neither profitable nor very successful. Her system argued that she was no longer backed by capital, and that she was reduced to rather commonplace frauds to gain a livelihood. Her usual practice, about which there is little novelty, was to order goods from confiding tradesmen, pay for them with a cheque above the value, and get the change in cash. The cheques were presently dishonoured, but Mrs. Gordon-Baillie had scored twice, having both ready money and the goods themselves, which she promptly re-sold. Frost was concerned in these transactions, for the counterfoils of the cheque-book were in his handwriting. The Frosts constantly changed their address, moving from furnished house to furnished house, adding to their precarious means by plundering and pawning all articles on which they could safely lay their hands.
In all this she was no doubt greatly aided by her fashionable appearance and winning ways. Not only did shopmen bow down before her, but she imposed upon the shrewd pressmen who interviewed her, and towards the end of her career, when funds were low, she persuaded a firm of West End bankers, hard-headed, experienced men of business, to give her a cheque-book and allow her to open an account. She soon had drawn no less than thirty-nine cheques on their bank, not one of which was honoured. When at last fate overtook her, and the police were set on her track by the duped and defrauded tradesmen, she brazened it out in court, declaring that her engagements were no more than debts, and that she was no worse than dozens of fashionable ladies who did not pay their bills. The prompt disposal of the goods she had obtained was, however, held to be felonious. Nor would the judge allow her plea that she always meant to replace the furniture she had pawned. Severe punishment was her righteous portion, and all who were associated with her suffered. As Annie Frost she was sentenced to five years’ penal servitude; her husband, Frost, to eighteen months. Since her release, she has been reconvicted for the same class of fraud, but she is, I believe, now again at large.
A VIENNESE IMPOSTOR.
An ingenious fraud was not long since devised and carried out with a certain impunity by a young woman of Vienna. She pretended to have been struck with a sudden admiration for some one of the gilded youth of the Austrian capital, and so far forgot maidenly reserve as to write and confess her weakness. She chose a well-to-do but easily gullible person—and not one, but dozens, telling them one and all the same story. As she signed herself in full with the aristocratic name of Kinsky, just then borne by a beautiful and wealthy member of that high family, the individuals selected felt themselves on the high road to fortune. The correspondence which followed was of the romantic kind, and it ended in a consent to elope at an early date.
That was, however, impossible until sufficient funds were forthcoming to bribe the servants of the Kinsky mansion—the concierge, the lady’s maid, the footmen, coachman, and so forth. Ample supplies were forthwith despatched to the young lady, who thus realised a very considerable sum. About this time the fraud became known to the police, and the false countess was arrested under the more plebeian name of Marie Lichtner. She seems to have enjoyed the whole joke, which was both profitable and amusing, despite the penalty of imprisonment that overtook her. On one occasion she gave a rendezvous to all her admirers at the opera, and on the same night. They were to appear in correct evening dress, and each was to wear a white camellia in his buttonhole. Marie Lichtner was there, but so also was the true countess, in a box upon the Grand Tier, resplendent in her beauty, and no doubt the false lady had the mingled pleasure and pain of seeing many lovelorn looks addressed to the Kinsky box and its handsome occupant.