Six Fan Fics - 6. The Great Bank Robbery

The event that would soon become the talk of London, and most of the Empire in fact, occurred during the afternoon of September 30^th, in the Year of our Lord 1872. It became probably the most talked about event since the Gordon Riots, which had occurred in the June of the Year of our Lord 1780, during which several prominent areas of London were attacked and destroyed.

It had been a day like any other for Peter Morrison. He was the principal cashier of the day, and he worked for that finest of institutions, The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street, better known throughout the world as The Bank of England. He had worked at the bank for many years and had slowly worked up his way up to his current position.

His educational and personal background precluded him from one day ever entering that most hallowed and sought after of office, that of Governor of The Bank of England, but he was a diligent worker and he had high hopes that he would one day reach the dizzying heights of the rank of day manager.

He had faithfully discharged his duties at the bank for just over a decade, and during this tenure, his register at the day’s end had never as much as been off by one half of a farthing, of which, as everyone knows, there are one thousand nine hundred and twenty in every one pound Sterling.

As a reward for such dutiful diligence, Mr Morrison was allowed to oversee the destruction of the bank’s half farthing coins in the Year of our Lord 1869, following the official demonetisation of that particular denomination. He was then gifted a half farthing coin by the then Governor of the Bank, Thomas Newman Hunt, in order to commemorate the event.

He had arranged several mortgages, he had opened a number of new accounts current for the London gentry, and had completed several overseas transactions for officers serving in Her Majesty’s forces in India. Mr Morrison’s day had been regular, uneventful, and without a singular event taking place; such a day he enjoyed working, and he wished that every day could be as such.

As the clock in the drawing office chimed two o’clock, a young man approached his desk.

Mr Morrison rose from his chair and asked the gentleman to take a seat.

“How may I help you today?”

“My name is Burling, and I am in the service of the Freeling family of Baker Street. I am here to make a deposit into the account current of the youngest son of Mr Freeling.”

“I see. How much is the deposit for?”

“It is for three shillings and sixpence, sir. Here is the deposit slip for the amount.” Burling handed the deposit slip, along with a cheque from young Master Freeling’s grandmother, which he had received for his seventh birthday, over to the principal cashier.

Master Cuthbert Freeling, who was the youngest son of one of London’s most influential importers and exporters, had a very flush account current that would serve him well for the future and assure him an education at a fine private institution. Thanks to his grandmother’s recent gift, his account current now contained the goodly sum of three thousand pounds, one shilling and thruppence ha’penny.

It was at that moment that a very distinguished looking gentleman, with a beard and moustache approached the desk. He was around five feet eight inches tall, and was attired in a suit that surely had come from the finest tailors of Saville Row, and it clearly marked him as a member of the gentry.

He took his place in the queue, and then began taking an interest in a large bundle of banknotes on the cashier’s desk. The Bank of England has always held a rather touching confidence in the honesty of the English, and so there are no guards or railings protecting its vast array of treasures.

The bundle of banknotes was picked up by said gentleman, presumably with the intention of examining them out of interest, and then the bundle of notes and the gentleman promptly disappeared. The cashier did not bat an eyelid at this event, as it was not unheard of for the public to become overly engrossed in the Bank’s treasures, and for notes or gems or even precious metals to be picked up, and examined and passed from person to person, before returning to their place of origin.

Mr Morrison, on one occasion, almost ten years previous, had the opportunity to observe such an occurrence. It was the morning of May 14^th, in the Year of our Lord 1863, and he had only been working at the bank for about eight months.

A customer, whom his supervisor was in the process of serving, noticed an ingot of gold sitting on the table. Out of interest, the customer picked up the ingot, which would have weighed some seven or eight pounds, and examined it. He turned the ingot over and over in his hand, he examined how the light reflected from it, and then, after satisfying his curiosity, instead of returning it to the table, he passed it to the gentleman standing next to him.

The ingot then passed from one customer to the next, each person eager for his or her chance to examine the ingot up close, and none of the bank staff concerned themselves with the bar of gold. It then disappeared into some darkened corner, most likely still being passed from customer to customer, each presumably taking their turn to look at it before passing it on to somebody else. None of the Bank’s cashiers, or any of the members of the public appeared concerned about the disappearance of such a valuable bar of metal. It was missing for nearly one half of an hour before it reappeared, and was finally returned to its appropriate resting place.

The whole event became something of a story that Mr Morrison enjoyed telling everyone and anyone who would care to listen to it, from simple acquaintances to members of his family; the reaction of those people was always the same, one of great shock and surprise.

Registering the deposit of three shillings and sixpence took all of thirty seconds to complete, Burling thanked him for his service, and then Mr Morrison proceeded to deal with the next customer. He was a doctor who had achieved the rank of brigadier and had finally been medically retired from Her Majesty’s forces, and he was relocating to London to live. He had first been wounded during a campaign in the Anglo-Afghan War of 1839-1842, he had again been injured whilst rendering medical aid during the Sepoy Revolt of 1857, and recently for a third time whilst serving on one of Her Majesty’s frigates during a training exercise.

Mr Morrison dealt with another dozen or so customers for the rest of the afternoon until the clock in the drawing office chimed five o’clock and the bank closed. It was then that Mr Morrison realised that the bundle of bank notes had not been returned to his desk.

The theft of the notes, which amounted to some fifty five thousands of pounds, was passed immediately to the account of profit and loss. Needless to say that the Directors of The Bank of England and the police were immediately notified; needless to say, the spotless record, and future prospects, of one Mr Peter Morrison, were now in tatters.

The Bank, hoping to recover a goodly quantity of the stolen money, immediately offered a reward of two thousand pounds, plus an additional five percent on the recovered amount; meaning a potential reward of four thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds, should the entire sum be recovered.

The reward inspired every detective of the London branch. Detectives were despatched throughout the Empire and beyond, in a hope to catch the robber. They were sent to monitor seaports at Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez, Brindisi, New York and others; after all, if the thief hoped to flee England then he would surely have to do so by way of one of the major ports. Even if the robber managed to somehow slip past the police and their cordon, he must surely find himself on a ship headed for a port that was still a part of the Empire.

Detectives were also monitoring all arriving and departing trains at the major railway stations; the Kings Cross station, the Victoria station, and the Paddington station being the three most closely watched, as they were the ones that allowed easiest access to the continent.

Given that a typical London labour worker could expect to earn eleven shillings each week, which equated to twenty eight pounds and twelve shillings in a year, the proffered reward amounted to a staggering one hundred and sixty six times the average annual salary amongst the working class. Surely, such an offer could do nothing but elicit extreme zeal in any pursuit and arrest of the criminal.