Yellow Kid is America's Greatest Conman;
but throughout his career there was only
one person smart enough to Outfox him;
and it was a Woman.

THOUGH THE POLICE WERE WATCHING ME MORE THAN USUAL
after my release from Leavenworth, Buckminster(The Deacon) and I teamed
up again and worked the stock swindle. It was shortly after
we had netted a particularly good score that we decided to take an
ocean voyage.
I had posed as Dr. Henri Reuel and Buck as Mr. Kimball. When we heard that our victims were looking for these two men,
both of whom were very real people, we decided the climate of
Europe might be healthier for a while.
"Let's go to London," Buckminster suggested. "Jimmy Regan
ought to have something lined up."
Jimmy Regan operated a cafe which catered to American tourists.
His real business, however, was to act as an international clearing
house for con men. Regan always had information about wealthy
Americans who were touring Europe — how much money they had,
where they were stopping, their hobbies, and so on.
This sounded good. After having our passports validated in Wash-
ington, we proceeded to New York, where we booked passage to Liverpool on the Columbus.
As soon as we boarded ship and even before she had weighed an-
chor, I went to our stateroom and went to bed, for I was feeling ill. The Deacon, who had a sturdy constitution, felt fine. He took his
meals regularly at the captain's table, a privilege to which our ac- commodations entitled us. For me the first twenty-four hours passed miserably. On the second
day Buck, who was enjoying the voyage, brought the ship's doctor
to see me. After an examination he advised me to drink three bottles of Pilsener beer.

This seemed strange advice, but I followed it and
soon began to feel better. I ordered some food sent to the cabin.
That night Buck was happy. "You don't know what you're missing,"
he told me. "I've been dining with the most exquisite woman —
"
"The Queen, no doubt," I broke in with heavy sarcasm. "No, but she is a member of the English nobility — Lady Agatha
Stebbins."
"How did you find that out?"
"The captain told me. He later introduced me to her, and she
was my companion at dinner."
"I suppose you've dated her for breakfast?"
"I certainly have."
"Is this business or pleasure?"
"Maybe both," said Buck. "She certainly looks Uke a million dollars.'* "You and your romances!" I still wasn't feeling very good.
"You might change your mind when I tell you about her companion," said Buck good-naturedly.
"What about her?"
"I don't know very much," he admitted, "except that she is petite
and gorgeous. She spends most of her time in her cabin and there
is something mysterious about her."
I still wasn't interested. After breakfast the next morning the Deacon was more enthusiastic than ever. "Lady Agatha asked about you
and why you remained in your cabin. I told her you were a renowned engineer who had acquired a large fortune and that you were
occupied with matters of business. She seemed very anxious to meet
you and told me to invite you to dinner."
"Did you find out any more about her?"
"Yes. She's the widow of an officer in the Coldstream Guards."
"What about the girl?"
"She's more mysterious than ever. She is travelling under the name
of Miss Viola Martin, but I'm sure that's a phony."
"Maybe she's a con woman," I suggested.
"Don't be silly," Buck scoffed. "She's an aristocrat if I ever saw
one."
"I'd like to meet this mysterious girl."

"You will," said Buck. "Lady Agatha said she would bring her
to dinner this evening if you would come."
That evening Buck and I dressed in dinner jackets and went to the salon.
At the captain's table two women were waiting for us. One was a very attractive woman of about forty.
She had brown
eyes and auburn hair and was dressed in excellent taste. Though she
was not slender, she carried herself with dignity and her slight plumpness was not unbecoming.
The young woman with her was, as Buck had said, beautiful. She
had black eyes, long lashes, and coal black hair. She was just over
five feet and slender. But she was dressed very plainly. She wore a heavy black veil and a fine tailored suit. My guess was she was abouttwenty-five.

After the Deacon had introduced us we sat down to dinner. Lady
Agatha talked with animation and so did Buck. But the girl, who
became my companion at the table, had very little to say. At the
older woman's suggestion I related some of my experiences as a mining engineer in remote corners of the world. This was easy, since
I was posing as Dr. Reuel. I merely appropriated some of Dr. Reuel's
adventures and told them as my own.
"Doctor, you must have had a fascinating career," said Lady
Stebbins. "Don't you think so, Viola?"
The girl nodded briefly, but said nothing. Dinner had been completed and we were drinking champagne.
"Let's go up on deck and promenade," the Englishwoman suggested.
"An excellent idea," agreed the Deacon, who was obviously infatuated with the woman.
For my part I was attracted to the girl, and this seemed a good
way to get better acquainted. She went along, rather unenthusiastically.
On deck Lady Agatha paused. "Mr. Kimball, suppose you and I go this way, and let the Doctor and Viola go the other way. We'll
meet later."

The Deacon acquiesced with a broad grin. Nothing could have
suited him better. It pleased me, too. The girl and I strolled slowly down the port promenade. It was
a moonlit night, made for romance. But the girl's response was reserved and monosyllabic.
Finally we paused at the railing and gazed
out over the shimmering water. Miss Viola Martin raised her veil over her hat. She was softening.
"Doctor," she said, "are you still active as a mining engineer."
That wasn't very romantic. But it was the most she had said all evening.
"No," I replied. "I've retired from active work."
"But you do retain an interest in your mines.''"
"Yes, I have large holdings in several copper mines in Arizona.
And I act in an advisory capacity for Standard Oil and Anaconda."
"How interesting. Do tell me about it, Doctor."
Encouraged, I told her the highlights in my supposed career — ac- tually the career of Dr. Henri Reuel. I concluded by mentioning the
books Dr. Reuel had written — in which my own photograph had
been bound as frontispiece to make it appear I was the author.
"I am very much interested in mining," she said. "Would you mind
if I read your books.'"' "I should be delighted," I replied. "I'd be very happy if you would
accept an autographed copy of each as a gift."
"That would be splendid," she smiled at last. "You must be very
wealthy. Doctor."
I admitted that I had acquired a considerable fortune and told
her some of the details, all fictitious but quite convincing. She lis- tened attentively for an hour. When I had told her all about myself
I tried again to draw her out, but with no success. She spoke perfect English, but there was a trace of a French accent and occasionally a French word or phrase slipped into her conversation. I was quite convinced Viola Martin was not her right name,
but my efforts to find out anything were futile. She talked again in
monosyllables and pulled the veil down over her face.
We resumed our stroll and met the Deacon and Lady Agatha. I proposed a nightcap in the salon, but the girl declined, pleading fatigue.
We saw them to their stateroom, bidding them good night after in-
viting them to breakfast with us the next morning.
"Well, what do you think?" asked the Deacon, after we had retired
to our stateroom.

"That girl is beautiful," I admitted. "But she's as cold as a marble
statue. And I still think that name, Viola Martin, is a phony."
"Leave it to me," said Buck. "I'll find out. Lady Agatha likes me."
"Looks to me like it's mutual," I said. "You fawned over her like
an eighteen-year-old."
Buck grinned good-naturedly. "I do sort of like her," he admitted.
My belief that the girl was French was partially confirmed the
following morning. As they approached the table where we waited the
girl was talking volubly to the other woman in French — in which
I too am versed. However, as soon as they saw us the girl quickly
returned to English.
She was more friendly now. I gave her copies of the books and she
thanked me profusely. We strolled several times on the promenade
deck and conversed in generalities. I tried to steer the conversation
into personal channels, but when I did I got nowhere. Meanwhile
Buck got along well with the older woman.
Sometimes an ocean voyage can be tedious, but this one seemed very
short. Both Buck and I were sorry to see it end. However, the two
women were going to London also and agreed to permit us to keep
in touch with them. We went to the Savoy, while they registered at the Grosvenor House.
The next day the Deacon lunched with Her Ladyship at Romano's.
The Deacon's infatuation had increased, and she seemed very fond of
him. He felt they were close enough now to ask her about the girl.
After some hesitation she finally said: "This is confidential and I haven't told anybody else. I rely on you to tell nobody but the Doctor.
Viola Martin is not her right name and she is traveling incognito.
Actually she is the Comtesse de Paris."
"That doesn't surprise me," Buck replied. "But why must she travel
incognito.? Is she afraid of swindlers?"
"Oh, no," said Lady Stebbins. "Her brother, the Duke d'Orleans,
is the last of the Bourbons and the rightful heir to the French throne.
He and a group of his supporters became very active in a secret move-
ment to revive the throne and restore the Bourbons. But political
intrigue in France is dangerous, particularly since this is a plot to overthrow the government.

"Through some traitor, details of the movement became known to
the authorities. The Duke and his supporters were arrested and convicted of trying to overthrow the government. He was sentenced to spend the rest of his Hfe on Devil's Island. But he took an appeal to the high court and is now free on bail pending their decision.

"We have no hope that the high court will act in favor of the Duke.
That's why Jeanne — the Comtesse — made a trip to America. There
she saw certain influential people who, she hopes, will intercede for
her brother. She has enlisted the support of some very powerful people
in the United States. Now she is trying to do the same in London.
But she must go about it quietly and without publicity."

The Deacon reported this to me in the afternoon. I had been
emotionally intrigued by the girl, partly because of her beauty and
partly because of the aura of mystery that surrounded her. I was even more so now.
That evening I called at the Grosvenor House where she was
registered as Miss Viola Martin. But she wasn't in. The next morning
I was more successful. After some hesitation, she accepted my invita-
tion to luncheon.
I took her to a Hungarian restaurant near Grosvenor Square.
Though she had on a different outfit, her clothes were as conservative
as before. There was just one difference — the exciting fragrance of
French perfume.
As I held a chair for her at the table, I said, "Comtesse, allow me."
She looked up quickly.
"Then — you know?"
"Yes, I know."

She sighed. It was a weary sigh as of one who is very tired. When
she looked across the table at me there was pleading in her eyes. "I should have known I couldn't deceive a man who knows so much about the ways of the world," she murmured. "Have you told
anybody else?"
"Of course not."
"I hope I can rely on you not to," she said, again with that pleading
look.
I assured her that her secret was safe with me.

"It's a relief to have you know," she sighed. "Now I won't have to keep up the pretense of being shy and reserved. By nature I am
vivacious and gay. It's just that I have to be very careful of strangers."
"I understand perfectly, my dear," I said. Suddenly the waiter was
there. I gave him our orders. "Please feel free to tell me anything
you want to. I assure you it will go no further."
"I'm sure it won't," she replied, smiling.

Her voice was somehow
different. There was more animation in it, less restraint. Her whole
manner implied that she had been relieved of a great burden. "It will
be nice," she continued, "to have someone I can trust, someone I can
turn to for advice. I hope you won't mind if I cry on your shoulder
occasionally."
I assured her that would be a pleasure for me — as indeed it would.

Then she told me the whole story. Her brother, the Duke d'Orleans,
had no strong desire to be enthroned in France. But he had been
swayed by his supporters, a group of noblemen who longed for the
glory of the court. He had finally agreed to lead the revolution. The
plot had been nipped when an informer had turned over details and
names to the authorities.
"Poor Ric was tried as the leader and was sentenced to banishment
on Devil's Island. Most of the agitators were either acquitted or given
light fines."

She told of the appeal to the high court and her despair that the
duke would be freed. "Of course," she said, "he's at liberty now on
bail. But he's under constant surveillance. If it were not for that, he
might have a chance of escaping France."
Then she told me of her trip to America, where she had contacted
high officials of the United States, many of whom readily promised to do what they could do to aid the duke.
"The British government is plebeian and conservative," she said.
"There isn't much chance of help from the politicians. But there arc some very influential men in the nobility. After talking to some of
them I have decided to change my plans. I think it is better if Richard
can escape and come to England. From here he can go to America.
He can start a new life or at least remain there until it is safe to return
to France."

"Do you think that will succeed?"
"I am very hopeful. A very powerful British peer — I hope you
will forgive me if I don't tell you his name —has agreed to arrange it.
The gendarmes who are constantly watching Richard will allow
him to escape to Belgium. He will make his way to the Channel coast
where a plane will be waiting to transport him to England."
"I hope you'll let me assist in any way I can," I offered.
"Your advice will be very valuable," she said, "and I shan't hesitate
to ask it." She smiled at me across the table, extended her hand. "Some
day, Doctor — perhaps soon — I can laugh and be gay again. Until
that day comes 1 must be circumspect."
I assured her I understood. Thereafter we were together often. We
dined many times at the Hungarian restaurant. On other occasions
the four of us, Lady Agatha and the Deacon, the Comtesse and I, were
together.
One night after we had attended the theatre we were at Romano's
for supper. We were drinking champagne and Buck had just toasted
Lady Stebbins' health when the Comtesse stood up and clutched at her
bosom.
"Oh, bother!" she exclaimed. "My necklace has broken!" She
caught the necklace in her hands, but some of the pearls scattered on
the table. We retrieved them as quickly as we could and handed them
to the Comtesse.
She held them in her cupped hands and looked at me rather help-
lessly. "I don't know what to do now," she said. "Do you suppose
you could have them restrung for me. Doctor.'"'
"Yes, I know a good jeweler," I replied. "But are you willing to entrust them to me?"
"Of course."
"Then I shall be happy to attend to it." She handed me the pearls
and I put them away in a special compartment of my wallet.
The following morning Buck and I went to the shop of a jeweler
located near our tailor's in Old Bond Street. He took them for rc- stringing and said they would be ready by midafternoon. When we
went back for them I paid the bill and Buck asked the jeweler how
much the necklace was worth.

"About 8,000 pounds," the jeweler said. "That would be $40,000
in American money."
I returned the necklace to the Comtesse that evening when I called
for her at the Grosvenor House.
At dinner she told me her negotiations with the British peer were
proceeding satisfactorily and that she expected her brother to make
his escape within the next two weeks.

About a week later Buck, Lady Agatha, and I took an excursion to Ostend, Belgium, for the races. We urged the Comtesse to go, but she
declined.
"I am too well known on the continent," she said. "In spite of my
plain clothes and my heavy veil I am afraid I would be recognized."
Then she added: "Besides I have a very important engagement. Our
plans are almost complete. I expect Richard will be free and be with
me in London in another week."

We went to the races without her. I enjoyed the outing. Buck was
so enraptured by his feminine companion that he hardly knew what
was going on. I placed a small bet on each race but didn't win. That
didn't bother me though, for I had long ago learned that you can't
beat the horses by betting on them. We returned to London after a very interesting excursion.
A few days later when we called at the Grosvenor House for the
two women we found them very excited. The Comtesse had finally
arranged her brother's escape from France.
"If all goes well, he will be here tomorrow night," glowed the
Comtesse.
"That's wonderful," I said. "Certainly this calls for a celebration."

But the Comtesse seemed far from happy. Instead she was weeping
quietly.
"What's the matter.?" I asked. "Aren't you happy that your long
quest is about at an end."
"Oh I am," she said tearfully. She lifted her long lashes and looked
up at me with those big eyes that pleaded for understanding. But I wasn't quite sure what they asked me to understand.
"You might as well tell them, Jeanne," said Lady Stebbins. "After
all, they are our dearest friends."

"Well," the Comtesse said hesitantly, dabbing at her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. "I suppose I might as well tell you. The cost of
preparing Richard's escape has been enormous. The bribes to the gendarmes, the Belgian officials, and the man who will pilot the plane,
cost much more than I had anticipated. Agatha — Lady Stebbins —
very generously gave me all the money she will have until she receives
the income from her investments. I had to use it all." She hesitated and Lady Stebbins urged her to continue.
"Oh, all right. I might as well get right to the point. We arc temporarily but quite definitely financially embarrassed. We haven't
a shilling between us." Then, as I started to speak: "Oh, we're not
paupers. My brother and I have a large fortune in France. Richard
will bring ample funds with him. But unfortunately I have some ob-
ligations to meet tomorrow morning. I have nothing to meet them
with."
She dabbed at her eyes and smiled feebly. "But I don't sec why
I should bore you with my troubles — " The Deacon and I were both on our feet. We spoke almost in
unison: "You must permit us to help you."
"But I couldn't think of such a thing," the Comtesse quickly protested.
"We insist," I said. "After all, it would be only a temporary loan,"
"Yes," the Comtesse agreed. "Richard will be here tomorrow night
and I can repay you then."
"Will ten thousand dollars — two thousand pounds — be of any use
to you?" I asked.
"It will be a life saver," the Comtesse blushed. "But — " "But what?"
"I will accept the loan on one condition. You must take my necklace as security."
Buck protested: "We don't need any security. Your word is enough
for us."
"Of course," I agreed.
"No," the Comtesse insisted. "I won't take it unless you take some
security."
"Oh, very well," I agreed reluctantly.
I went to my bank and withdrew two thousand pounds which I
turned over to the Comtesse. She gave me the necklace and I dropped
it carelessly into my pocket.
That evening we dined at Romano's. The Comtesse, feeling it no
longer necessary to be circumspect, was dressed in a low-cut, shimmering evening gown. She was happier than I had ever
known her.

We enjoyed a marvelous evening. When we parted we arranged to sec them for lunch.
"I want you to meet Richard as soon as he gets here," the Comtesse
said as I bade her good night.

The following day at noon we called at the Grosvenor House. At
the desk we were told that Lady Stebbins and Miss Viola Martin had
checked out.
"You must be mistaken," frowned the Deacon.
"No, I'm not," said the clerk. "They left early this morning. They
seemed in a great hurry."
"Did either of them leave a message?"
"No. But you might telephone later. Perhaps we will hear from
them."
Greatly disappointed, we turned and walked out. We went to see Jimmy Regan. We didn't tell him what had happened. After a few
minutes he called: "You fellows make yourselves at home in the
lounge. I've an appointment, but I'll see you later."
We discussed this latest turn of events.
"Maybe the escape plan didn't go through," I ventured.
"That must be it," agreed the Deacon. "Maybe the Surete or Scot-
land Yard intervened."
"They'll probably call and leave a message for us."
I went to the telephone and called the Grosvenor House. No message had come. We sat there for three hours, speculating on what had happened.
Every half hour I telephoned the Grosvenor House. I always got a negative answer. "Maybe we should go to Paris," Buck suggested.
"What good will that do?"
"We might be able to help them. At least, we might find out what
happened."

"Wait a while. I think they'll get in touch with us. After all, we
have the Comtesse's necklace."

"That's right," Buck agreed. Then: "Let me have the necklace a moment, will you, Joe?"
"Sure, but don't lose it." I handed it over and he looked at it. As I started to the telephone again, Buck said: "I'm going out for a
little air, Joe. Be back in a few minutes."

I scarcely noticed him as he went out the door. I called and again I was told that there was no message. I rang for a waiter and ordered
a drink. I sipped it slowly, contemplating the room without interest.

A few minutes later the Deacon came in and sat down beside me. He was as forlorn as I. He ordered a drink and gulped it. "Joe," he said, "did you ever know how it feels to be taken in a con game?"
"No. Why?"
"Well, you're about to find out." He threw the necklace in my lap.
"Paste," he said. "Our two lady friends worked a switch on us. We've been taken."

"How do you know?"
"I walked over to Old Bond Street. I showed it to the jeweler. He
said it was a very clever imitation, worth about twenty-five dollars."

Until that moment the thought that the two women were swindlers
had never entered my mind. Even then I found it hard to believe.
I didn't want to believe it. But as my mind went back swiftly over my acquaintance with the girl, it all tied in.
She had been mysterious to pique my interest. I recalled how she had questioned me about my career and fortune. She
had left it to her companion to reveal the part about the Comtesse. It had all been a very clever build-up.

It was particularly ironical for one reason: back in 1908 I had
worked the switch on dozens of gullible buffet owners. I had used
virtually the same tactics in the build-up. It had been one of my rainy
day schemes.

I had fallen back on it at various times through the years
when I was in need of ready money.
And at last I had become a victim
of the same scheme!