CHAPTER XXXII
THE AFTERMATH OF A SWINDLE
Out of all the many confiding investors who were robbed by Weston &Hill, only a few need be mentioned. Winn's aunt, Mrs. Converse, was themost flagrant case of pure theft, for she was deceived through thevilest of all methods, a religious one. Weston, a merciless wolf insheep's clothing, a pew-holder in her church and plausible hypocrite,who talked the golden rule, but belonged to Satan's host, easily dupedher by his professions, and worse than that, gave her no possible chanceof escape. The widow whose only aid in the battle for existence was thescanty earnings of her child in the office of those two sharpers, wasperhaps the most pitiful one, for she lost every dollar that stoodbetween her and the poorhouse. There were others entitled to lessconsideration,--clerks in stores who, bitten by the gambling instinct,hazarded one or two months' wages and lost them; cashiers in two orthree banks, tempted as usual, to use money not their own to speculatewith; and men about town on the watch for a good chance to "take aflyer." Most of these latter lost their money in the bucket shops, andby almost as culpable methods as Weston & Hill, for those who werebuyers of Rockhaven on a margin when it went up to forty and down tonothing in a few hours were not present in these robbers' dens to taketheir profits, and when the fiasco was over, were merely told its suddenfall had wiped them out. Those of more experience in the way ofspeculation, and who had "gone short of it," as the phrase goes, were ofcourse sold out or closed out in Rockhaven's wild leap upward, and likemost who trust their money in a bucket-shop keeper's hands, knew nothingabout it until informed that they had lost all they invested.
And here and now it seems a duty to interpose a word of warning againstbucket shops.
We enact and try to enforce laws against all forms of gambling; we claimthe right to invade the privacy of homes, even, where card playing formoney is an occasional evening's pastime, and the law says that agambling debt is no debt at all. We even assist the loser in gambling byallowing him to sue and recover his loss, when, as a matter of morals,he is just as guilty as the one who wins; and yet we allow thesestock-gambling offices to open on all sides.
There is not a city of ordinary size where half a dozen do not flourish,and hardly a country village that has not one or more, ready to temptincipient speculators to invest in the gambler's chance. They all dobusiness on the same basis, viz., bet against the fool who buys or sellson a margin. They do not actually buy or sell a share of stock; theirmanagers are merely like the dealers in a faro bank, paid to run thegame. Their sole stock in trade is a leased wire over which to receivequotations, a handsomely fitted office bearing the legend, "Bankers andBrokers" (it should be, Bankers and Breakers), a gilt-lettered fictionof capital invested--and unlimited nerve!
They know full well that the lambs who stray into their den, and by goodluck secure a small profit, will at once grow vain of their speculativeskill and invest again. Even if these dupes win twice or thrice, it onlyresults in a greater exultation, and the end is the same--they lose.
It is as inevitable as the tides or the sun to the majority, and whilenow and then one by sheer luck may win at this great gambling game, nineout of ten will lose, and the keeper of the shop rides in an automobilewhile they walk!
If these parlors of temptation were open only to men who realized thechances they were taking and could afford to lose, it would be adifferent matter; but all who wish to gamble may enter, and the cashierof your bank, paid a pittance that is but a premium on dishonesty, isliable to be the first one. And when he, lured on and on by that elusivehope that next time his guess may be right, has falsified books and madeducks and drakes of your money, you wake up some fine morning to readthe old, old story, and learn that he has journeyed abroad.
And the bucket-shop keeper across the way smiles softly to himself andsays nothing.
And Puck, looking down upon us human ants, also smiles and says, "Whatfools these mortals be."
The Great Rockhaven Granite Company, only one out of a thousand othersof similar end and aim, was but a mere ripple on the sea of speculation.It was active while it lasted, it brought sorrow and tears to many, asmall fortune to a few, transferring to them the money of others, andleft dishonor and disgrace in its wake. On "the street" it was a ninedays' wonder how so colossal a scheme could be foisted upon them andcarried so near a successful culmination, and then, as usual, it wasforgotten. Others as transparent took its place, and so the mad wave ofspeculation rolled on in the city.
But on Rockhaven there was rejoicing.
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