



Produced by Al Haines.





                               *A PRINCE*

                                  *OF*

                              *SWINDLERS*


                                   BY

                              GUY BOOTHBY



                            ARTHUR WESTBROOK
                                COMPANY
                       CLEVELAND, OHIO, U. S. A.




                  Copyright, 1907, by Bainbridge Cayll




                              *CONTENTS.*


                               CHAPTER I.

A Criminal in Disguise


                              CHAPTER II.

The Den of Iniquity


                              CHAPTER III.

The Duchess of Wiltshire's Diamonds


                              CHAPTER IV.

How Simon Carne Won the Derby


                               CHAPTER V.

A Service to the State


                              CHAPTER VI.

A Visit in the Night


                              CHAPTER VII.

The Man of Many Crimes


                             CHAPTER VIII.

An Imperial Finale




                        *A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS*



                              *CHAPTER I.*

                       *A CRIMINAL IN DISGUISE.*


After no small amount of deliberation, I have come to the conclusion
that it is only fit and proper I should set myself right with the world
in the matter of the now famous 18--swindles.  For, though I have never
been openly accused of complicity in those miserable affairs, yet I
cannot rid myself of the remembrance that it was I who introduced the
man who perpetrated them to London society, and that in more than one
instance I acted, innocently enough, Heaven knows, as his _Deus ex
machina_, in bringing about the very results he was so anxious to
achieve.  I will first allude, in a few words, to the year in which the
crimes took place, and then proceed to describe the events that led to
my receiving the confession which has so strangely and unexpectedly come
into my hands.

Whatever else may be said on the subject, one thing at least is
certain--it will be many years before London forgets that season of
festivity.  The joyous occasion which made half the sovereigns of Europe
our guests for weeks on end, kept foreign princes among us until their
faces became as familiar to us as those of our own aristocracy, rendered
the houses in our fashionable quarters unobtainable for love or money,
filled our hotels to repletion, and produced daily pageants the like of
which few of us have ever seen or imagined, can hardly fail to go down
to posterity as one of the most notable in English history. Small
wonder, therefore, that the wealth, then located in our great
metropolis, should have attracted swindlers from all parts of the globe.

That it should have fallen to the lot of one who has always prided
himself on steering clear of undesirable acquaintances, to introduce to
his friends one of the most notorious adventurers our capital has ever
seen, seems like the irony of fate.  Perhaps, however, if I begin by
showing how cleverly our meeting was contrived, those who would
otherwise feel inclined to censure me, will pause before passing
judgment, and will ask themselves whether they would not have walked
into the snare as unsuspectedly as I did.

It was during the last year of my term of office as Viceroy, and while I
was paying a visit to the Governor of Bombay, that I decided upon making
a tour of the Northern Provinces, beginning with Peshawur, and winding
up with the Maharajah of Malar-Kadir. As the latter potentate is so well
known, I need not describe him.  His forcible personality, his
enlightened rule, and the progress his state has made within the last
ten years, are well known to every student of the history of our
magnificent Indian Empire.

My stay with him was a pleasant finish to an otherwise monotonous
business, for his hospitality has a world-wide reputation.  When I
arrived he placed his palace, his servants, and his stables at my
disposal to use just as I pleased.  My time was practically my own.  I
could be as solitary as a hermit if I so desired; on the other hand, I
had but to give the order, and five hundred men would cater for my
amusement. It seems therefore the more unfortunate that to this pleasant
arrangement I should have to attribute the calamities which it is the
purpose of this series of stories to narrate.

On the third morning of my stay I woke early. When I had examined my
watch I discovered that it wanted an hour of daylight, and, not feeling
inclined to go to sleep again, I wondered how I should employ my time
until my servant should bring me my _chota hazri_, or early breakfast.
On proceeding to my window I found a perfect morning, the stars still
shining, though in the east they were paling before the approach of
dawn.  It was difficult to realize that in a few hours the earth which
now looked so cool and wholesome would be lying, burnt up and quivering,
beneath the blazing Indian sun.

I stood and watched the picture presented to me for some minutes, until
an overwhelming desire came over me to order a horse and go for a long
ride before the sun should make his appearance above the jungle trees.
The temptation was more than I could resist, so I crossed the room and,
opening the door, woke my servant, who was sleeping in the