Bamboozling the Baron

Tired out from a hard day of counting his money, Baron Scipion du Roure was strolling along Promenade des Anglais in Nice one afternoon when he bumped into an old acquaintance, Inspector Raymond Alberto of the Nice police force. Over pernods, the inspector grew confidential and unfolded an amazing tale of espionage and adventure. Later, he introduced the baron to lean, elegant-looking Lieut. Colonel Berthier of the French intelligence.

"The Secret Service," whispered Berthier, "has on its hands a certain quantity of uranium. But Russian agents are after the stuff. We are now trying to get it to America. The mission is highly dangerous. What we need are fearless, young, patriotic men, willing to work for France." Young (29) Baron Scipion du Roure reflected for an instant on the pallidity of the languid life he had been leading. "Je suis votre homme," said he solemnly.

That was the beginning of an incredible endurance contest between the baron's bank roll and his gullibility, both apparently inexhaustible. Policeman Alberto and Colonel Berthier suavely persuaded the baron that French intelligence could stay in business only if he lent them funds until the National Assembly approved its budget. They entrusted to him four mysterious flasks and a jug that gurgled. "Uranium and heavy water," explained Colonel Berthier. There was even a sinister, bearded Russian who appeared at the baron's Riviera villa with an offer of $850,000 for the uranium. The baron refused, and the Russian later turned up dead--or so the baron was told.

After nine months, the baron's loans to the colonel had swelled to 120 million francs ($340,000), and he began wondering when he would be paid back by the government. He spoke to his lawyer and his lawyer spoke to French intelligence. They knew of no Colonel Berthier nor the colonel's other associates, except for Alberto. He had, indeed, been a police inspector--but three years before he had been fired for embezzlement. By this time, the baron was hardly surprised to learn that his uranium was sand and his heavy water came straight from the tap.

Last week ex-Inspector Alberto and two Corsicans who portrayed the roles of "Colonel Berthier" and "The Chief" of intelligence were convicted in a Paris court of bamboozling the baron. The judge, however, was impressed. "I congratulate you on your imagination," he told Ringleader Alberto. ". . . How were you able to tell the baron such stupendous tales without ever laughing?" Even Alberto found it a little hard to explain. "He just believed everything," said he. "Even had an asbestos vest made to protect himself from the radiations." The defendants grinned sheepishly and the judge was hardly able to hide a smile himself, as he sentenced Alberto and "Colonel Berthier" to four years in prison, and gave 18 months to "The Chief."

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