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sudden collapse of fortunes, closing of elegant
mansions, the selling off of plate and horses at
auction, the hurling of men down from first
class positions to subordinate posts, is an
every-day occurrence in New York. In almost
every case these reverses result from outside
trading, and meddling with matters foreign to
one's legitimate business. The city is full of
sharp rogues and unprincipled speculators, who
lie awake nights to catch the unwary. None are
more easily ensnared than hotel-keepers, and
this is the way it is done: A well-dressed,
good-looking man comes into a hotel, and brings
his card as the president of some great stock
company. In a careless, indifferent way he asks
to look at a suite of rooms. He has previously
ascertained that the proprietor has from fifty
to a hundred thousand dollars in the bank
waiting for something to turn up. The rooms
shown are not good enough. He wants rooms that
will accommodate certain distinguished
gentlemen, whom he names, who happen to be the
well-known leading financiers of the great
cities. A better suite is shown the president.
The cost is high, one thousand dollars a month.
But the rooms suit; he must accommodate his
friends; a few thousands one way or the other
won't make much difference with his company; so
he concludes to take the rooms. The landlord
hints at references; the president chuckles at
the idea that he should be called upon for
references; he never gives any; but if the
landlord wants one or two thousand dollars, he
can have it. "Let me see," the president says,
very coolly, "I shall want these rooms about six
months, off and on. I may be gone half the time,
or more. If it's any accommodation to you, I
will give you my check for six thousand dollars,
and pay the whole thing up." Of course the
landlord is all smiles, and the president takes
possession. Before the six months are out, from
fifty to a hundred thousand dollars of the
landlord's money goes into the hands of the
speculator, and a lot of worthless stock is
locked up in the safe of the hotel.
Another scheme is equally successful. The rooms
are taken, and the occupant is the most liberal
of guests. Champagne suppers and costly viands
are ordered without stint, and promptly paid
for. Coaches with liveried drivers and footmen,
hired for the occasion, leave imposing cards at
the hotel. The obsequious landlord and well-feed
steward pay especial attention to the wants of
the liberal guest. Waiters fly at his command,
and the choicest tit-bits are placed before him.
Picking his teeth after breakfast while the
landlord is chatting with him some Saturday
morning when it rains, he expresses a wish,
rather indifferently, that he had fifty thousand
dollars. His banker won't be home till Monday,
don't care much about it, get it easy enough
going down town, wouldn't go out in the rain for
twice the sum, indifferent about it, and yet
evidently annoyed.
The landlord goes into his office and
examines his bank account, and finds he can
spare fifty thousand dollars, without any
inconvenience, till Monday. Glad to accommodate
his distinguished guest, who is going to bring
all the moneyed men to his hotel, he hands over
the money, which is refused two or three times
before it is taken.
On Monday morning the hotel man finds that his
distinguished tenant has put a Sabbath between
himself and pursuit. Such tricks are played
constantly, and new victims are found every day.
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