Flower Elliott
The Best Policy
AN INCIDENTAL SCHEME
There came to Dave Murray one day a young man who was looking for a job. He was a bright young fellow and seemed to be very earnest.
“I have been a clerk,” he explained, “but there is little prospect for the future where I am now, and I want to get something that has some promise in it. In fact, I must do so. I am making barely enough to support my mother and myself, and I may want to marry, you know.”
Murray readily admitted that young men frequently were attacked by the matrimonial bacillus and that, there being no sure antidote, the disease had to run its course. “Which is a good thing for the world,” he added, “so you are quite right to prepare yourself for the attack. But are you sure that insurance is your field?”
“I have given the subject a good deal of thought,” was the reply, “and insurance interests me.”
“That’s a good sign,” commented Murray. “Success is for the man who is interested in his work, and not merely in the financial results of that work.”
“Oh, I want to make money, too,” said the young man frankly.
“We all do,” returned Murray, “but the man who has no other aim than that would better stick to business and let the professions alone. Life insurance has become a profession, like banking. Time was when anybody with money could be a banker, but now it is conceded to require special gifts and a special training. I place life insurance right up in the front rank of the professions, for it is semi-philanthropic. We are not in it for our health, of course, but, if we are conscientious and earnest, we may reasonably flatter ourselves that we are doing a vast amount of good in line with our work. The life insurance solicitor has been the butt of many jokes. Perhaps he himself has been responsible for this, but times have changed and so have methods. If I ever caught one of my men slipping into an office with an apologetic air, like a second-rate book-canvasser, I’d discharge him on the spot. The insurance solicitor of to-day wants to consider himself a business man with a business proposition to make; he must have self-respect and show it. The best men plan their work carefully, do not attempt to hurry matters, and usually meet those that they expect to interest in their proposition by appointment, instead of trying to force the thing upon them by pure nerve. When a fellow becomes a nuisance he is hurting himself, his company and all others in his line. Do you still think insurance the line for you?”
“I can begin,” said the young man, by way of reply, “with an application from my present employer. I’ve been talking insurance to him for practice, and he has agreed to take out a policy. He’s a pretty good fellow. He says I’m worth more than he can afford to pay me and he wants to help me along.”
“I guess you’re all right,” laughed Murray. “At any rate, you impress me as being the kind of man I want. Leave your references and come in again tomorrow.”
Murray was unusually particular as to the character of the men he employed. It was not enough for him that a man could get business, but he had his own ideas as to the way business should be secured. Absolute integrity and the most painstaking care to state a proposition fairly, without exaggeration, were points upon which he insisted.
“A dissatisfied policy-holder,” he said, “is a dead weight to carry; a satisfied policy-holder is an advertisement. If a man finds he is getting a little more than he expected, he is so much better pleased; if he finds he is getting a little less, he feels he has been tricked. Insurance is a good enough proposition, so that you don’t have to gild it.”
Murray himself, in his younger days, had once secured an application for a large policy by refusing to expatiate on the merits of the particular form of insurance he was advocating.
“Well, let’s hear what a beautiful thing it is,” the man had said.
“My dear sir,” Murray had replied, “it is a straight business proposition, with no frills or twists of any kind. You have the facts and the figures. If you, with your business training, can’t see the merit of it, it would be a waste of time for me to attempt any elucidation. I have not the egotism to think I can talk you into taking out a policy. As a matter of fact, this proposition doesn’t need any argument, and it would be a reflection on the plain merit of the proposition for me to attempt one.”
Different methods for different men. This man never before had seen an insurance solicitor who would not talk for an hour, if he had the chance, and he was impressed and pleased. This was business, – straight business and nothing else. He straightway took out a large policy.
Something of this Murray told the young man when he came back the next day, for he was anxious to impress upon him the fact that life insurance was not like a mining scheme, which has to be painted with all the glories of the sunset in order to float the stock, and that the man who overstated his case would inevitably suffer from the reaction.
Murray had been favorably impressed with the young man – Max Mays was the name he gave – and the employer of Mays had spoken well of him. He was rather a peculiar fellow, according to the employer – always busy with figures or financial stories and seemingly deeply interested in the details of the large business affairs that were discussed in the newspapers and the magazines. Aside from this, he was about like the average clerk who hopes for and seeks better opportunities, and meanwhile makes the best of what he has – reasonably industrious and yet far from forsaking the pleasures of this life.
All in all, Mays seemed like good material from which to make a life insurance man, and the fact that he did not propose to desert his present employer without notice was in his favor. Possibly the fact that he was getting his first commission through the latter had something to do with this, but, anyhow, he planned to continue where he was until a successor had been secured; and too many young men, contemplating such a change, would have let their enthusiasm lead them to quit without notice when they found the new place open to them. This is mentioned merely as one of the things that led Murray to think he had secured a thoroughly conscientious, as well as an ambitious, employee.
When he finally reported for duty Murray gave him certain general instructions, principal among which was this: “Never make a statement that will require explanation or modification later. Any time you decide that the proposition you are making is not good enough to stand squarely on its merits, without exaggeration or deception, direct or inferential, come into the office and resign. Any time you find yourself saying anything that you yourself do not believe implicitly, it is time for you to quit. When you have to explain what you really meant by some certain statement, you are creating doubt and distrust, for the unadulterated truth, of course, does not have to be explained.”
For a time Murray watched Mays rather closely – not in the expectation of finding anything wrong, but rather with the idea of giving him helpful suggestions – but the young man seemed to be unusually capable and unusually successful for a beginner. He seemed to be working a comparatively new field – a field that turned up no large policies but that seemed to be prolific of small ones. This, however, was quite natural. Every new man works first among those he happens to know, and Mays was doing business with his old associates. In time, Murray ceased to give him any particular attention, except to note the regularity with which he turned in applications for small policies, and there probably would have been no deviation from the customary routine had it not been for an unexpected and apparently trivial incident.
An application for a small policy had come in through one of the other solicitors. Mays happened to be in the office when the applicant called for his physical examination, but they exchanged no greetings. Apparently they were strangers. Yet Mays slipped out into the hall and intercepted the other as he came from the doctor’s office. Murray, emerging suddenly from his own room, saw them talking together and caught this question and answer:
“Is it all right?”
“Of course. I’m a bully good risk, as you call it.”
Then, seeing Murray, they hastily separated and went their ways.
Now, why should a friend of Mays apply for insurance through another solicitor? Well, he might have been ignorant, when he made his application, of the fact that Mays was in the insurance business. But why did they give no sign of recognition when they met in the main office? It was quite natural that Mays should be anxious to learn how his friend came out with the physician, but why should he sneak out into the hall to ask the question?
Any evidence of secrecy and underhand work always annoyed Murray. He did not like this, although he could see nothing in it to cause him any anxiety. Nevertheless, he looked up the papers of the man who had just been examined and found that his name was John Tainter and that he lived near Mays. He was a good risk, however, and he got his policy. There was no earthly reason why it should be refused. But Murray watched Mays more carefully and gave painstaking attention to the risks he brought in.
The applicants were generally small tradesmen – usually foreigners – but there was nothing in the least suspicious in any case. Indeed, it was difficult to see how there could be anything wrong, for the safeguards made it practically impossible for a mere solicitor to put up any successful scheme to beat the company, and certainly it would not be tried with any trifling policy. But it annoyed Murray to find that a man he had believed so frank and straightforward was tricky, and he could not, try as he would, find any reason for this trickiness.
Then, one day, while he was waiting in a hotel office for his card to be taken up to the room of a man with whom he had some business, he heard a strangely familiar voice near him making a strangely familiar assertion.
“You bet you, they don’t fool me very much,” said the voice.
Murray turned to see who it was, but a big square column was in the way. Murray’s chair was backed up to one side of this, and the speaker was on the other.
“I can’t just place that voice,” mused Murray, “but I have heard it somewhere.” There was silence for an instant.
“It’s going to be vorth something, ain’t it, yes?” inquired the voice at last.
“It looks like a big thing and no mistake,” was the reply.
“By George!” muttered Murray, “it’s that Adolph Schlimmer who tried to get a rebate on his policy, and the fellow with him is Max Mays.”
Just then word came that Murray’s man would see him, and he had to leave. He was careful, however, to keep the column between him and the two he had found in conversation. It was just as well not to let them know of his presence, for he preferred not to have their suspicions aroused.
There was now little doubt in his mind that some scheme was being worked out. But what? What could these two men, neither of whom was versed in the theory and details of life insurance, do that would be in any way hurtful to the company or advantageous to them? Of course, it was only a surmise that their confidential business concerned him in any way, but association with Schlimmer would be sufficient to make Murray uneasy about any of his men, and the strange action of Mays in the Tainter matter added to his uneasiness.
His first move was to investigate Mays thoroughly, and, to his astonishment, he discovered that, far from having a mother to support, Mays was living with a married brother and had no one to look after but himself. He had told the truth about his business record, but he had lied about his personal responsibilities. That lie had been an artistic one, however, for it had helped materially to get him a position with Murray.
Further investigation showed that there was a light-headed, frivolous young girl, to whom he was devoted and with whom he attended Saturday-night dances in various public halls, but it had to be admitted, to his credit, that he never let these interfere with business and was always on hand with a clear head. At the same time, it threw an entirely new light on his character, and showed him to be not at all the sort of fellow his business record had indicated.
Murray was tempted to discharge him at once, but he refrained for two reasons: first, his action would be dictated by his own disappointment in the man rather than by anything he knew that was definitely derogatory, aside from his falsehood about his mother; second, he wanted a chance to investigate further the association with Schlimmer, and the only way to do this was to pretend to be entirely unsuspicious and entirely satisfied. If there was any kind of scheme that could be put up by two such men, he was interested in finding it out, especially if they had already taken any action. Until the thing was clear, he wished to have Mays within reach.
Mays was shadowed for a few days, but nothing was learned except that he unquestionably had business relations with the unscrupulous Schlimmer, and that they occasionally met in the office of a lawyer in that district.
“A lawyer!” mused Murray. “Now, what the devil do they need of a lawyer? I can’t see where he comes in.”
“Tainter was with them once,” replied the “shadow.”
“I certainly never had anything puzzle me like this,” remarked Murray. “The separate incidents are so trifling that it seems absurd to attach any importance to them, and yet, taking them all together, I am convinced there is something wrong. I’d like to hear what they have to say to each other.”
“That,” said the shadow, “can be easily arranged, for they are to meet next Sunday afternoon, and I can get the janitor easily to let us into the adjoining office.”
“I’ll be there,” said Murray.
Now, Murray, in spite of his good nature, was a dignified man, but he knew when to sacrifice his dignity. He was an “office man,” but he rather enjoyed an excuse for getting outside and occupying himself in some unusual way. In fact, Murray had the making of a “strenuous” man in him, if fate had not decreed that he should devote his energies to the less exciting task of directing the destinies of a life insurance agency. So he rather enjoyed the mild excitement of getting into the adjoining office unobserved and lying prone on his stomach to get his ear close to the crack under the door. But the reward was not great. The lawyer – a big blustering fellow – was there, and so were Schlimmer, Tainter and Mays, but the meeting seemed to be one for jubilation rather than for planning.
“I got the papers all ready,” said the lawyer. “Sign ’em, Tainter, and then we’re ready to go ahead the moment Mays gives the word. We want to land all we can.”
And that was the only business transacted. The rest of the time was given to gloating over some scheme that was not put in words.
“You bet you, I make that Murray sit up and take notice, yes?” remarked Schlimmer. “I gif him his chance once and I get the vorst of it, but I even up now.”
“It’s great,” commented the lawyer. “You’ve got a great head on you, Schlimmer. Not one man in a thousand would have thought of it. We’ll all even up, but they would have been mighty suspicious if I had let Tainter’s application go in through Mays. That’s where you get the advantage of having a lawyer in the deal.”
And more to the same effect, but no definite explanation of the scheme.
Murray was at his office unusually early Monday morning, and the first thing he did was to have a clerk look up the Schlimmer case. Some company, he knew, had got into trouble over a Schlimmer policy, and he wanted to know all about it. He learned that Schlimmer had taken out a policy on his wife’s life, had demanded and secured a rebate from the solicitor, and that another policy-holder had taken action that resulted in nullifying the policy and imposing a fine on the company.
“I think I understand it now,” mused Murray, “but it looks to me as if pretty prompt action might be necessary.”
All doubt, all hesitation had disappeared. Murray was wide awake and active. He called in his private messenger.
“When Mr. Mays reports,” he said, “he is to wait until I have had a talk with him before going out. I shall send for him when I am ready.” Then, giving the boy a slip of paper with a name and an address on it, “I want to see that man here at once. Take a cab and bring him. Tell him the validity of his life insurance depends upon it.”
While the boy was gone, Murray slipped out himself, and, when he returned, a stranger accompanied him. The stranger was secreted in a room adjoining, and then Murray took up the routine of his regular work. The only interruption came when a clerk informed him that Mays was waiting.
“Let him wait,” said Murray. “I’m not quite ready for him yet. If he tries to leave, jump on his back and hold him.”
After a time the messenger returned with the man for whom he had been sent, and Murray immediately took him into his private office and shut the door.
“Mr. Leckster,” he said abruptly, “how much of a rebate did Mays give you on the policy you took out with us?”
Leckster was plainly mystified and frightened.
“Out with it!” commanded Murray. “Your policy isn’t worth the paper it’s written on unless the matter is straightened out mighty quick. How much was the rebate?”
“I don’t understand,” said Leckster, already nearly terror-stricken.
“How much of his commission did he give to you to get you to take out a policy?”
“Oh, he give me a half.”
“Leckster,” said Murray, “that was against the law. If any other policy-holder hears of it and wants to go into court, he can nullify your policy and get half of the fine that will be assessed against us for the act of our agent. If you want to make your policy unassailable, you must refund that rebate. Now, go home and think it over.”
Then he sent word to Mays that he was ready to see him.
“Mays,” he said abruptly, “what was your scheme?”
“Sir!” exclaimed Mays.
“What was your scheme?”
“Surely you must be joking, sir,” protested Mays. “I have no scheme.”
“Why did Tainter,” replied Murray in deliberate tones, “a friend of yours, put in his application through another solicitor?”
“He didn’t know I was in the insurance business until he came up here to be examined.”
“Then why did you fail to recognize each other until you got out in the hall where you thought you were unobserved?”
Mays did not even hesitate. Evidently he had prepared himself for this.
“Another man had got his application,” he said, “and I was afraid it would look as if I were trying to interfere in some way. I did nod to him, but very likely it wasn’t noticed.”
“What are your relations with Schlimmer?” persisted Murray.
“Oh, I got into a little business deal with him, for which I am sincerely sorry. I’m trying to get out now.”
“Insurance?” asked Murray.
“No, sir; it had nothing whatever to do with insurance.”
Murray was thoughtful and silent for several minutes.
“Mays,” he said at last, speaking slowly, “I don’t know whether you’re worth saving or not. You’ve got in with a bad crowd and you’re mixed up in a bad deal. But you impressed me favorably when you came here, and I think you are capable of being legitimately successful. Of course, you lied to me about your mother – ”
“I was very anxious for the job, sir.”
“I quite appreciate that, although your motive for wanting the job will hardly bear close scrutiny. Still, you are young and I am anxious to give you another chance. Now, tell me the whole story.”
“There is nothing to tell, sir,” Mays replied with an ingenuous air. “Your words and insinuations are a deep mystery to me.”
“Think again,” advised Murray. “I know the story pretty well myself.”
“I shall be glad to have you tell it, sir,” said Mays. “Your earnestness leads me to think it must be interesting.”
“If I tell it,” said Murray, “it removes your last chance of escaping any of the consequences.”
“Go ahead,” said Mays.
At least, he had magnificent nerve.
“Schlimmer,” said Murray, fixing his eyes sharply on Mays, “was once mixed up in a little trouble over rebates, which are unlawful. He tried to get me to give him a rebate on a policy, but I refused, and he seems to have got the idea that I was directly responsible for the failure of his scheme elsewhere. He learned, however, that the informer gets half of the fine assessed against the company in each case, but that only another policy-holder is empowered to make the necessary complaint. It occurred to Schlimmer that, if he could find enough rebate cases, there would be a good bit of money in it on the division of the fines. Being a man of low cunning, it occurred to Schlimmer that these cases might be manufactured, if he could get hold of a complaisant insurance solicitor, for the company is held responsible for the act of the agent, and the easiest way to get hold of a complaisant solicitor was to make one. So he went to a young man who was absorbed in the study of tricky finance and who couldn’t see why he couldn’t do that sort of thing himself, and the young man got a job in this office. The young man, Max Mays by name, immediately began preparing rebate cases for future use. He worked among a class of people who knew little of insurance or insurance laws and who are in the habit of figuring very closely, and this rebate proposition looked pretty good to them.
“Next, Schlimmer and Mays got a lawyer into the scheme, because they would need him when it came to the later proceedings, and they further prepared for their coup by having a confederate, named Tainter, take out a policy in the company, so that he would be in a position to make the necessary complaint. In order to avert suspicion, when the time for action came, Tainter applied for his policy through another solicitor. I think that is about all, Mays, except that you were ready to spring your surprise as soon as the policies had been issued on two or three applications now under consideration. I was in the next room to you when you held your meeting yesterday, Mays.”
Mays had grown very white during this recital, but he still kept his nerve, although he now showed it in a different way.
“Yes,” he said, “that is about all. There are some details lacking, but the story is practically correct. What do you intend to do with me?”
Then Mays was suddenly conscious of the fact that a man, a stranger, was standing beside him. The man had emerged quietly from the room in which he had been concealed.
“There are the warrants for the whole crowd, including this man,” said Murray, handing the stranger a number of documents. “The charge is conspiracy, and, if they could have secured half the fine in each of the cases they prepared so carefully, they would have made a pretty good thing. Now, I’ve got the job of straightening this matter out so that both the policies and the company will be unassailable under the rebate law. But, at any rate, Schlimmer has got his second lesson, and it’s a good one. Look out for him especially, officer. If you keep this man away from the telephone, you’ll have no difficulty in getting Schlimmer and all the others.”