The Moneychangers

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If thou art rich, thou'rt poor; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee.

Shakespeare, Measure for Measure

Poul-cank'ring rust the hidden treasure frets, But gold that's put to use more gold begets.

Venus and Adonis

1

Long afterward, many would remember those two days in the first week of October with vividness and anguish.

It was on Tuesday of that week that old Ben Rosselli, president of First Mercantile American Bank and grandson of the bank's founder, made an announcement startling and somber which reverberated through every segment of the bank and far beyond. And the next day, Wednesday, the bank's "flagship" downtown branch discovered the presence of a thief beginning a series of events which few could have foreseen, and ending in financial wreckage, human tragedy, and death.

The bank president's ann ouncement occurred without warni ng; remarkably, there were no advance leaks. Ben Rosselli had telephoned a few of his senior executives early in the morning, catching some at home at breakfast, others soon after their arrival at work. There were a few, too, who were not executives, simply longtime employees whom old Ben thought of as his friends.

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