The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 71: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE GREAT BANK ROBBERY. ~ 67 a book agent you’ve got to have gall. Stick your foot in the door, ask the servant if her husband is in. That tickles ’em. Oh, you ain’t no good for a book agent. Let’s look at this one.” And he read aloud: “ My DEAR SIR: In reply to your alvertisement in to- day’s Herald, I believe y ou are the very man to represent our company in New York. We are open.nog up a legitimate business in the banking line that promises rich rewards not only to the company, but to investors as well. All depositors now with us are delighted at the returns. Call at our office, 13 1-2 Wall Street, at your earliest convenience.” Mr. Jarvis laid that letter aside with- out comment, but with a bland smile on his face. “Let's see what this is,” he said, taking up the third. It proved to be even less assuming than either of the other two, and Mr. Jarvis returned to the second. “JT think we'll go down to 13 1-2 Wall Street,” he said. “This seems to be something to tie to at once.” “ But—it may not be honest,” I ob- jected. “ Certainly it may not. But you may be starving before you run across an honest man. Come along. Here, what’s the name? Oh, Wilkins. Wilkins? That sounds familiar. I knew Pete Wilkins when he was in the policy busi- ness.” “Insurance policies? ” I asked. Mr. Jarvis looked at me a moment. Then under his breath he muttered, “ Duffer.” Since then I know that he was quite correct. I had dreamed too long. Well, we visited Wall Street. At the address given we found a door with the name “ New York Mutual Banking Refund Association.” “This must be it; said Mr, Jarvis. We entered. At a desk in a sumptu- ously furnished office a stout, hand- some man sat writing a letter. Near ‘him at another desk was a young girl clerk. “How do you do, Mr. Wilkins?” be- gan Mr. Jarvis with an air of exagger- ated politeness. it sounds like it,” Govgle Mr. Wilkins rose and laughed. “Hello, Tom!” he said, extending his hand. “How is the world using you?” “Same’s you,” replied Mr. Jarvis. “It’s holdin’ back the club.” “Sit down.” “TI want to introduce my friend, Mr. Merrilk Late of Chicago. Wrote that ad. you answered. See?” “Oh!” and as Mr. Wilkins said this he took me in from head to foot. “What's the game?” asked Mr. Jarvis. “T’ve gone into a new enterprise,” said Mr. Wilkins. “This is something I wonder no one ever thought of before. You know how a mutual benefit asso- ciation conducts its affairs? The ever increasing membership keeps, it going. “ The same is true of a life insurance company. Now, with a start of about ten depositors, .I gave back fifty per cent every three months, and now I have on my books two thousand pa- trons, and the number increases.” “ Good!” said Mr. Jarvis, beamingly. “That’s great. I always knew you were cut out for a financier, Wilkins.” “So I was, but feared to venture. Now, I liked that advertisement and I like Mr. Merrill. I want a refined, scholarly man with me. I am out of town a good deal, and need a reliable representative.” “Ts this business safe?” I asked. “Safe? Do I look as if it was any- thing else? Nonsense. I am so busy that I must have adequate help. You are the very man.” “ Merrill’s all right, and I don’t want to get him in a hole,” said Jarvis. “ He is too honest for this world.” “But there is nothing dishonest in this. We agree to do a thing and we do it. We pay two hundred per cent a year on all deposits, but they must re- main a year without any dividend. See? That gives us a chance to use it.” “ But the number of depositors must always increase to make it a success,” I said. “So must the depositors of a bank. So must the patrons of a trust com- pany. When will you be able to take hold, Mr. Merrill? ” I hesitated.