Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 28, No. 3, November 12, 1927

All the members turned everything possible into cash for that glorious night when the ghostly mint should run to capacity.

Among the guests one night at a spiritualistic circle conducted by Hiram Cameron, in his “Old Curiosity Shop,” East Main Street, Stockton, California, was a barber named La Mont. He, with a score or more of others, had paid into Cameron’s exchequer the sum of twenty-five cents, the regular admission charge.

During the evening, the while Hiram squeezed such simple melodies as “Swaunee River” and “Annie Laurie” out of a wheezy accordion, “spirit” hands caressed the fevered and trembling brows of the guests, tamborines flew out of a cabinet, guitars and banjos were plunked and strummed, harmonicas droned, bells rang and an assorted array of small articles were heard to fall with dull or clanging thuds about the darkened room.

Spirit messages were received by the shivering believers from the dear departed. Through a trumpet, in hoarse whispers or sepulchral voices, Annie heard from George, Uncle Horace told nephew Harry that all was well with him in the land of the shades, et cetera, ad libitum.

For the better part of an hour Hiram entertained his guests with manifestations most amazing, and it was voted altogether a very successful séance.

After it was over Hiram invited all hands to inspect his spiritualistic studio for trap doors, sliding panels or other evidence of studied deceit.

Nothing was uncovered to fix the stigma of chicanery upon the operations of the wily Hiram.

“I don’t claim it’s spirits,” drawled Cameron, “but if it’s trickery, you’ve got to admit it’s pretty clever.”

Even the skeptics admitted that, though their better judgment cried out in protest. Hiram was not in the least perturbed when one man openly charged that he was a rank faker.

“I may be,” answered Hiram, his equanimity unruffled, “but nobody has caught me at it.”

And nobody ever did. His method was simplicity itself. No trapdoors or panels were disclosed, because there were none. He simply surrounded himself by confederates, and upon each side of any one who wasn’t known to be “right,” was one of them holding him so he couldn’t make a move toward exposing Cameron.

Professing to be skeptics, the confederates circulated among the crowd before the séance, and thus knew in advance of any attempts at showing up Hiram. All were effectually nipped in the bud.

And these confederates, covered by Cameron’s accordion music, “pulled” the manifestations. Cameron’s whole scheme was as air-tight as it was simple, and he continued his stances until he grew tired of dividing the swag. Not until then did the truth come out.

So much for Hiram.

La Mont, who conducted a barber shop on the Stockton water front, was not at all convinced that Hiram’s “manifestations” were produced by the aid of those who had joined the silent majority.

“Cameron is clever, and he is getting a lot of the sucker money,” was La Mont’s way of sizing up the situation. He determined that he would get some of it himself, concluding also that his operations would be far and above any piker considerations.

After attending a few more of Cameron’s séances he gave it out that he was somewhat of a spiritualist himself, and invited some of Cameron’s regular attendants to try a whirl with the shades at his home.

La Mont hinted that he would show them some phenomena calculated to make Hiram’s efforts seem as simple as falling off the well known log, as soon as he got into his stride.

La Mont charged no admission fee during the period in which he was building up his victims for the final pluck. He led them along by slow degrees, by means of “rappings,” spirit hands and the common tricks resorted to by most of the spiritualistic fakers.

He took occasion to explain, however, that he could promise nothing really startling until he got his circle in full confidence with his “guide,” he being but the humble human instrument of those who had gone before.

“What I’m working toward,” La Mont confided to his small but very select circle, “is reproduction by those in the spirit world, of objects laid upon the table by those in the circle. It is for that reason that I am proceeding slowly and cautiously, under orders of my guide, who informs me that very soon he will give you some very startling manifestations of his power, if you will have patience.”

After a few weeks he announced one evening that his guide had promised him that if some one would place a coin upon the table he would make a gallant effort to duplicate it.

The lights were doused, and presently there came the sound of some one dropping a coin upon the table top. La Mont asked that all join him in singing “In the Sweet Bye and Bye.” The melody welled from a dozen throats. One verse and the chorus. Then La Mont turned on the lights.

In the center of the table reposed two cartwheel dollars.

“Who put the original dollar there?” asked La Mont.

One of the guests indicated that he had made the contribution.

“Well, my guide has reproduced it for you,” said the barber, solemnly, as he pushed the money toward him.

Amazement showed in every face. Here was concrete evidence of spirit power. There is nothing quite so convincing as the reproduction of money. Nobody thought to compare the dates on the coins, which may or may not have been the same. A dollar is a dollar, and what are a few years between friends and believers.

Then somebody timidly suggested that maybe the esteemed guide might do business on a five-dollar basis. La Mont professed to believe that this would be somewhat of a strain on the guide, but he would see what could be done. Again the lights went out, and “Rock of Ages” reverberated through the room, a trifle out of key, but still distinguishable, after the fiver had been heard to tinkle on the mahogany.

Lights! There they were — two five spots! And the original donor took down his one hundred per cent profit.

La Mont had “put the wolf” in them in most abiding fashion. But he had to demur at forthwith attempts to wheedle a tenner out of his obliging guide. Possibly things hadn’t gone so well at the barber shop that week.

La Mont promised, however, to make an earnest effort to have his guide reproduce a twenty-dollar gold piece some evening the following week.

When the next séance night rolled around, all hands were present, and all had money with them, each indicating a willingness to get action in the spirit mint.

But La Mont was foxy. He knew better than to excite suspicion by running the mint too smoothly. An occasional halt in the machinery, he was shrewd enough to realize, would serve to cinch the belief of his circle in his powers. Some disappointment was expressed when several attempts to reproduce proved dismal failures.

“Friends, I’m very much afraid we have been too avaricious,” explained La Mont, after the fourth failure. “Perhaps the spirits are punishing us for evincing greed. We had better not provoke them farther, but wait until my guide assures me that we are again in their good graces.”

So they forbore to try that shady mintage for a few sessions. When La Mont decided the psychological time had arrived, he suggested that somebody try a dollar. The lights were doused, and with startling suddenness the rattle of a companion piece was heard. Up the lights, and the guest who had put up the original capital took his profits.

The entente cordiale had been reestablished. The mint in the land of the shades had been reopened! Coinage had resumed! The members of the circle dug into their jeans and brought forth fives, tens and twenties, offering them on the experimental altar, wholly in the interests of scientific demonstration, of course.

But native shrewdness prevented the barber demonstrating farther that night. That and a slight tightening in his personal money market.

He advised extreme caution in tempting the money kings of the spirit world. So far the members of the circle had been well favored, and he was not disposed to rush a free ghost to death, in a manner of speaking.

Perhaps to-morrow night they might try again.

The roll call the next night got a hundred per cent response. The knight of the shears told them his guide had arranged to reproduce a twenty-dollar gold piece, as a special favor. Now, did any one chance to bring such a coin? Seven of them had been so foresighted. Here was a complication. Who should be the favored one? He left them to settle it among themselves.

Much figuring developed that of the circle there were two members whose takings had been somewhat smaller than the others. So it was agreed that one of them should put up the twenty, while the other was declared “in” for half the net result.

The reproduction was a huge success. It took “Rock of Ages,” “Old Kentucky Home” and “Gather at the River” to operate the mint on the other side of the Styx, but two double eagles were finally spread before the little assemblage when the lights went on again. As agreed, the dough was split two ways.

Over a period of several months La Mont kept his circle intact, all pledged to the closest secrecy. His “come on” work was of a high order.

The successes and the failures were about evenly divided, but, of course, nobody ever lost anything, even if the spirits occasionally shut the doors of the mint practically in their faces.

When the guide was absent for two or three sessions, as was sometimes the case, La Mont explained that he had been called to San Francisco or Sacramento or perhaps London, where he was operating branch mints, as it were.

Then one evening La Mont announced that he had glad tidings for the faithful few. He was just from a very personal séance with the guide, who had informed him that on next Saturday evening this wonderful guide would have his spirit friends reproduce all the coin placed upon the table.

“I feel this is a wonderful opportunity for us all,” La Mont solemnly told them. “I have been hoping for this all along. The spirits are powerful. If they can reproduce a dollar, why not a thousand, even a million? It is only necessary that the right conditions exist — that we are all en rapport.

“Therefore, friends, we will dispense with the séance to-night. But next Saturday night come with all the coin you can scrape together. It will be returned to you two-fold.”

There was great joy in the circle. In their excitement some of them offered to divide with La Mont, but he would have none of it.

“It is not for me,” he told them. “Should I accept a cent of the money, all would be lost. I am content to make you happy, in my humble way. I could not stultify my heaven-born gifts for sordid gain. But you have my gratitude for your kindly offers.”

In the interim the members of the circle turned everything possible into cash against the night when the ghostly mint should run to capacity. They borrowed and begged and mortgaged.

Saturday night found the little band on hand early. It was to be a real clean-up. Several thousand dollars went into the heap on the table, which groaned under the weight. It was all in gold, for paper money had not come into general use at the time.

At La Mont’s suggestion each donor placed his gold in a separate pile with his name on a slip of paper, so that confusion might be avoided.

The barber also took occasion to say that this was the most supreme effort his guide had attempted in his whole career, and owing to the great strain upon him and the long time required to accomplish this feat — the greatest in the history of the supernatural world — it would be necessary to sing the entire musical program of the circle, to give him strength for the task.

He suggested that it would be well to start the singing with “Swaunee River,” going through the entire repertoire and winding up with “Heart Bowed Down.” He urged them to sing loudly — to put their hearts and souls into it.

As darkness ensued the faithful members of the circle began singing loudly and soul-fully. One after another the accustomed tunes were rendered until the entire list had been exhausted. Twenty or more minutes had been consumed in song.

They waited in silence for word from La Mont. After five minutes or so some one called him by name. There was no response. A timid hand reached in his direction, but contacted nothing.

The same hand swung over to the table and pawed about frantically. The table was as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.

“Turn up the lights!”

The utterly flabbergasted members of the circle saw no La Mont and no money. The wily barber had staged as complete a sample of levitation as the history of spirit phenomena records.

In the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth that ensued during the following days the story leaked out.

La Mont’s mode of procedure had been even more simple than Cameron’s. He had no confederates, for he needed none.

When a coin was placed upon the table, La Mont duplicated it in the darkness by no more complicated action than to quietly take one from his pocket and place it alongside the coin already there.

It cost him a few hundred dollars of his own money to build up his victims, but the final takings, running into five figures, made it worth while.

It was only necessary for him to quietly remove the stacked coin from the table at his last séance, while the room was in total darkness — the loud singing of his circle effectually masking any noise the operation might make — drop it into a convenient sack, slide out a convenient door and take an outgoing train that he knew about, destination unknown.