Union building was an eight-story edifice, but the elevator ran only to the seventh floor. We took the stairway to the top floor, which was one big room, where about a hundred operators sat at their desks. We could see them through a glass partition. They were coatless and wore green eyeshades.
I threw up a hand, and an operator waved back. He probably thought I was someone he knew.
“My brother-in-law just signaled,” I told Macallister. “He wants us to meet him on the fifth floor.”
We went down to the fifth floor and waited in the corridor. I knew that Billy Wall had been waiting in the washroom on the sixth floor. In a few minutes, he came down the stairs. He wore a green eyeshade, was hatless, and his sleeves were rolled up. He was my mythical brother-in-law.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, with a fine display of indignation. “Haven’t I told you not to come around here when I’m working? Suppose the boss finds out I’m away from my instrument-”
“No worse than if he finds out about the loan sharks,” I retorted. “This gentleman is here to help you.”
I introduced them and they shook hands.
“Are you really willing to help me?” Billy asked.
“He will,” I promised, “if you give him a winner.”
“How can I do that?” he asked innocently.
“You’re on the gold wire, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but-”
“What is the gold wire?” Macallister asked.
“That’s the wire from New York that we get the race results on,” my “brother-in-law” explained. “I get them here and flash them to the poolrooms.”
“Then here is what you can do,” I said, lowering my voice. “Hold back the results for a couple of minutes and give Mr. Macallister a chance to make a bet before the poolrooms get the flash that they’re off. You can send through some sort of signal so he’ll know which horse won.”
“But that’s dishonest!” Billy protested. “And my job-”He hesitated. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and paced up and down the hall. “No! I can’t do it.”
I shot him a scornful look.
“You love your wife and family, don’t you?” I goaded.
“More than anything else in the world,” he replied.
“And you know what will happen if my sister finds out about those loan sharks, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, wearily. “She’ll leave me. My home will be wrecked.”
“In that case,” said Mr. Macallister, “it seems to me that you haven’t anything to lose by going along with us.”
That was the tipoff. It meant that Macallister was sunk.
“All right,” Billy returned reluctantly, “I’ll do it this once. But only once.”
“That’s all right,” said Macallister. “We can make plenty of money on just one sure thing.”
“I’ll have to payoff the New Yark operator,” Billy grumbled, “He wouldn’t go in a deal like that for less than a 50-50 split.”
We turned questioning eyes on Macallister.
“That’s all right with me,” he said. “I can afford to pay him if I get a winner.”
We then arranged the details. We would take the sixth race at Saratoga on the following day. As soon as the winner had come through, Billy would flash a signal. Mr. Macallister would place his bet and two minutes later Billy would send details of the race to the poolrooms.
“As long as this is a sure thing,” Billy proposed, “you might as well bet the $2,500 you’re going to loan me. Then I can repay the loan out of what I win.”
Macallister agreed to that. We parted after I had arranged to meet him the next day.
The poolroom I led Macallister to the next day had been arranged for his special benefit. We had rented the banquet hall of the old Briggs House, and outfitted it fully with equipment which also had been rented for the occasion. Of course, the telegraph instrument was not connected with Western Union, as Macallister believed. It received messages from another instrument which we had installed in a room of the Briggs House.
To be our innocent props we had hired a hundred actors. We had told them that Mr. Schubert Henderson, the producer, was casting for his new play and wanted some actors for a poolroom scene. They looked real enough to Mr. Macallister. The cashier’s cage, wall sheets, and telegraph operator all looked authentic too. We had stooges at the cashier’s cage and other stooges went to the windows and placed bets. Among those who helped were a number of minor con men.
The big wall clock had been set back a few minutes. This was done because we wanted time for our operator in the other room to find out the actual result of the sixth at Saratoga before he began sending his message. Our scheme required that we have the actual winner because it would be easy enough for Macallister to check up.
Came the time for the sixth race to start, according to our clock - actually the race was already over. The telegraph began to click. The clerk called out:
“Colorado is delaying the start.”
That was the signal we had agreed upon. It meant that Colorado actually was the winner. The odds were 4 to l.
It had been agreed that Mr. Macallister would bet the $2,500 that he was to lend Billy Wall. Besides the $2,500 to pay Billy’s loan and the cut to the New York operator, Macallister could keep the profit. He hurried to the window, but it was completely blocked by several men in a violent argument.
“We wish to place a bet,” I said, pushing toward the window.
One of the stooges gave me a shove that sent me reeling backward. The argument continued and Mr. Macallister tried frantically to get to the window, while the clock ticked away the precious seconds. He was no more successful than I and the altercation was still in progress when the flash came: “They’re off!”
That meant all betting on that race was closed. Mr. Macallister and I stepped back and listened as the account of the race was called out. Of course, Colorado won.
If Macallister had been able to bet, he would have won $10,000.
Of course, we had no intention of letting him do that. That was why the argument had been staged in front of the cashier’s window.
“Look here!” I said to the cashier. “My friend had $2,500 to bet on that last race, but he couldn’t get to the window. Those fellows cost him $10,000.”
The cashier shrugged. “I’m sorry, but what can I do? I didn’t start the argument.”
“Hereafter,” I said, truthfully enough, “we’ll go elsewhere to make our bets.”
With that, we left. We
