Here is an anecdote of a confidence man, told by M.
Pasquier, who was a Prefect of Police in Paris under the first Emperor:
“A magnificent carriage drove up, one day, to the door of a
rich jeweler in Paris, and a well-looking, important, and overdressed gentleman
alighted from it. He said he wanted a
complete wedding parure, consisting
of a lady’s set of diamond ornaments, the price limited to 200,000 francs,
equal to $40,000. – From several designs, which he examined with the evidently
practiced eye of a connoisseur, he selected one, which he desired might be
executed within five days, and insisted on leaving four thousand francs with
the jeweler as a deposit. He also
selected a ring, worth 120 francs, which he begged might be sent to him the
next day, giving his address as Prince Gargarin, Hotel Hollande, Rue de la
Paix, which was a more fashionable house in 1805 than it is in 1862.
“The jeweler’s messenger called at the appointed time, and
was shown into an apartment in the second story. There were five or six liveried lackeys in
the antechamber, one of whom escorted him to the Prince, who received and
examined the ring, paid for it and presented ten francs to the messenger, who
returned home, joyfully congratulating the jeweler on having so wealthy and
liberal a customer.
“On the fifth day, as agreed, the jeweler carried home the
diamonds and found the Prince in his study, sitting before his cylindrical
secretaire. His Highness minutely
inspected the jewels with a glass, and suddenly one of the valets announced ‘Prince
Dolgoronki.’ ‘Ah!, my brother-in-law,’
exclaimed his Highness. ‘I do not which
him to see the presents with which I intend surprising his sister. Request him to stay in the drawing room and I
will immediately join him.’
“Touching the table, the cylinder moved and the secretaire
closed. The diamonds were within it –
but on the table was an open box filled with plump leather bags, and numerous
rouleaux of louis were huddled together confusedly. On his arrival the jeweler had noticed all
this treasure, and more especially a large Russia leather port-folio, well
lined with bank notes, the rough edges of which were visible.
“The Prince quitted the room, saying that he would
immediately return. The polite jeweler
begged him not to hurry himself. Twenty
minutes elapsed, which seemed like three hours to the jeweler, over whom a
vague apprehension crept. The door
opened – Oh! Here is his Highness, he thought.
No. It was the master of the
hotel, who asked if he was waiting for any one. ‘For the return of Prince
Gargarin,’ said the jeweler. ‘I have
just sold him a set of diamonds for 200,000 francs. Are you his secretary?’ The maitre
d’hotel shook his head and sadly said, ‘I am his dupe, and so are you, I
suppose.’ ‘Impossible! The diamonds are shut up in that
secretaire. Besides, look at all this
money.’
“Alas, the leathern bag which he seized was filled with
nails. The rouleaux were of wood. The Russian leather portfolio contained
scraps of waste paper. However, there
was one consolation – the diamonds were safe.
A locksmith was sent for – the secretarie opened, and found – empty!
It stood flush up against a wall, in which a hole had been made, and
there being a corresponding hole in the back of the secretarie, the jewels had
readily been removed into the next room.
The jeweler, as he well might be, was in despair. The master of the hotel had been swindled. All the servants were his except the valet de chamber, who was the
confederate of ‘the Prince.’ They had
decamped, without suspicion, at the door of the hotel. All efforts to discover them were ineffectual.
“The poor jeweler nearly ruined by this robbery, had to
remove his much diminished business to another part of Paris, where his name
sunk in that of his partners. Many years
after he received a message from one Monsieur Teron described as a gentleman holding
an official situation, who desired to purchase some rings. Instead of sending a clerk he went himself,
and was shown into a partially lighted bed chamber where, in the invalid in bed
he recognized his old customer the cidevant
Prince Gargarin. – The recognition was not mutual, and the jeweler held his
tongue and bided his time.
“From the rings exhibited, a few were selected to the value
of 6,000 francs, and M. Teron, declaring that he had not the means of paying in
cash, asked if the jeweler would exchange against a curious snuff-box, which he
declared to be of great value. This was
an octagon shaped china snuff-box,
ornamented with ten miniatures by Clinchsteil, set in gold and rubies. No one knew its value so well as the jeweler,
for it was one which had been stolen from him shortly before Prince Gargarian’s
visit. Moreover, he knew what few others
did, that it had a secret spring by means of which all the miniatures could be
taken out of their settings and their reverses exhibited, on which were painted
subjects treated with admirable skill, in the indelicate style peculiar to the
age of Louis XV.
“Without any hesitation, the jeweler valued the box at
50,000 francs, which was more than M. Teron expected. The jeweler on the other hand, said it was
probably worth even more and made this proposal: “Take the rings you have chosen, and put the
box in an envelope, stating it to be my property – if it does not bring more
than 50,000 francs, you shall have the rings for nothing.”
“Gratified al the idea of being able to obtain the rings
without opening his purse, M. Teron assented.
Two of his neighbors, one of them a notary, were sent for, and the
invalid asked “Who shall fix the price of the box?” “You, sir,” said the jeweler. “I will lay a wager that you will value it at
500,000 francs. Let me tell you in
private a circumstance connected with this box which will enable you to
perceive its true value.”
“M. Teron, curious and anxious enough now, gave his consent,
and the two referees retired. Then the
jeweler said, “Sixteen years ago that snuff-box was stolen from me, when I
traded on the Boulevard des Italiens – a few days before I was robbed of
200,000 franks’ worth of diamonds by yourself, under the assumed name of Prince
Gargain. My evidence relative to the
loss of the box is on the records of the police. You now declare the box to be yours. I have already sworn that I purchased it at a
public sale. The man who sold it to me
is still alive. I know a secret about
the box which will further prove my ownership – a secret which you have not
discovered. Unless you fully repair all
wrong you have done me, I shall at once have you arrested as a thief. I give you five minutes to determin.”
Within that time thus driven into a corner M. Teron, who
really was an invalid, handed his keys to the jeweler and bade him open a
drawer, in which he would find 300,000 francs in billets la banque, and signed
a cheque for 200,000 francs more, payable at his banker’s that same day. This done the witnesses were recalled.
“Gentlemen,” said the jeweler, exhibiting the bank notes and
check, “you see that M. Teron has become aware of the value of the box. He has purchased it back from me for five
hundred thousand francs. Is it not so?” “Yes,” sighed M. Teron, “I have given him
that sum.” “Then,” said the jeweler, “here
is the box, and I will let you have the rings into the bargain. You may explain the mystery as you please;
for my part, I promise eternal secrecy.”
The jeweler retired, leaving the witnesses in amaze and M.
Teron in dismay. The notary was unable
to keep silent, and the police eventually unraveled the mystery, though the
jeweler faithfully observed his promise of secrecy. M. Teron, who was so immensely rich as to
leave three millions of francs to his heirs, never recovered from the
mortification of having been detected and compelled to refund, with compound
interest.
– Published in the Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye,
Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 12, 1862, p. 4
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