Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 45: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

IMMORTAL FRAUDS. “ Awfully obliged, Edward, but some other day. Having lunch at home with brother Joe. Poor chap, he’s pretty lone- some with father and mother away. Going to the dance at the Country Club to-morrow night?” Ed French pulled open the door into the corridor. 515 know better to-morrow night. Nice warm day, isn’t it?” “Lovely,” said the president of the Ben- son Bank of Templeton. She began sorting over a collection of miscellaneous papers on her desk, while the door of the directors’ room closed with a click behind the back of the president of the Sands County Trust sc“ Phi THE . “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. & Savings Company. END. Lv) Le AMAZING ABILITY OF THE MIMIC TESTATOR IMMORTAL FRAUD By CAPTAIN HORATIO WRAGGE BOUT the middle of the thirteenth century there flourished in the Italian city of Florence A: gifted youth named Gianni Schicchi—pronounced Skickey—who amazed everyone with his powers of mimicry. Before he was eighteen he permitted himself the most extravagant liberties with the names and the possessions of the Florentines, but everybody forgave him because the things he did were so laughable. On one occasion he pretended to be an old Jady, nearly a hundred years of age, who was noted for her charities. He imitated the voice, the manner and the appearance of this aged woman with such fidelity that he accumulated a considerable sum of money in her name. This old lady was subsequently tried upon a charge of fraud and was actually imprisoned until the truth was discovered. Gianni Schicchi would get himself up as the commander of the local garrison and perpetrate all sorts of imbecilities in the form of a drill of the troops until the laughter of the spectators made it obvious to the soldiers that they were the victims of a hoax. Nothing quite so wonderful had ever been heard of before in Florence. Among his friends was a youth named Simone Donati who was afraid of being disinherited by his father, Buoso Donati. One day the old gentleman fell quite ill. The terror of Simone: was extreme, for if his father bequeathed him nothing it would be useless to go to law. Gianni Schicchi reassured his young friend. “I will pretend to be you father,” he said, “and I defy any lawyer to see through the trick.” The two youths hurried to the home of the invalid, whom they found at the point of death, Gianni Schicchi studied the sick man attentively for some minutes, for he wished his mimicry to be unusually true to the original. The sick man was shocked by the appearance of his prodigal son, who showed no concern for his father. His anxiety was all about the will. Old Buoso Donati refused to make one, saying that all his money would go to the church in the peculiar state of the law, for he had disowned his wicked son. The words had scarcely left his lips when the aged Donati fell dead upon his pillow. Aided by his friend Simone Donati, the sky Gianni Schicchi lifted the corpse from the bed and hid it in a closet. Next the mimic took the empty place in the bed while the unnatural son hurried out for a notary. Simone explained that his father was at the point of death and wanted to make his will. The notary came in a hurry. Gianni Schicchi imitated the voice and the aspect of old Buoso Donati so faithfully that the notary was completely taken in. In feeble tones, the impostor dictated a will in one clause of which some trival donations were made to the church. These being duly set forth by the unsuspicious notary, the mimic went on: ie | bequeath to Gianni Schicchi, in acknowledgment of his wonderful gifts, the sum of fifty florins.” This smart sum caused the wicked son of the dead man to wince. He danced about the room in his rage, but remembering the trick that was being played he said, in subdued tones: ~ Dear father, leave Gianni Schicchi to me. I will give him his due at the right time.” “No,” said the impostor from his place in the bed, “leave Gianni Schicchi to me, my son, I want him named in my will.” The wicked son had to give the impostor his own way, for the suspicions of the athorneg must not be aroused. The incorrigible Gianni Schicchi next dictated: “T also bequeath to Gianni Schicchi my mule.” icbooksnecom COL