Chapter 286: Chapter 286

While his neighbors were gossiping about Jenkins, he was just waking up in his own bed. He had dinner at Hathaway’s last night, and the two of them had spent the rest of the evening talking in her study. Their conversation drifted from recent curiosities to the secrets of the occult, from the war on the other side of the continent to the latest scandals among the kingdom’s nobility. It was nearly midnight before Jenkins even thought of taking his leave.

But Hathaway had pointed out that if he intended to use “visiting a friend” as his alibi, leaving at midnight would seem rather unnatural.

So Jenkins had spent the night in a guest room at Hathaway’s residence and only returned home this morning. Today, the owner of the lumberyard was scheduled to deliver the firewood he had purchased, which meant the fireplace could finally be used.

Although they had agreed the horse-drawn cart would arrive around ten in the morning, it was nearly lunchtime when Jenkins finally saw the owner, who was personally escorting the delivery. As promised, he brought two workers to help Jenkins with the basement, and Jenkins, in turn, paid a rather hefty transportation fee.

It was all necessary. In the foreseeable future, this house would be his home, so he couldn't skimp on these gold pounds.

By the time he saw the workers off, it was nearly four in the afternoon.

Jenkins soothed his cat, who had been agitated by the noise, and lit the fireplace in the living room. Setting the poker aside, he watched the bright yellow flames dance and finally allowed a smile to grace his lips.

He remained there until the maid had finished preparing dinner and tidied up the lawn outside. Only then did Jenkins finally have a moment to himself. The sun had already set, and he hadn't stepped out of the house all day. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NoveI(F)ire.net

Following his plan, he pulled the sofa set closer to the fireplace, switched off the gas lamp in the living room, and settled onto the couch in his dressing gown, ready to deal with the replies from Eldron.

He comforted himself with this thought, stroking the cat’s back. It responded with a soft purr.

Not everyone who heard about the “successful investment” was like the gentleman from Greenway Avenue, who had immediately mailed cash, eager to get involved.

Most people were more cautious, inquiring about the specific details of the investment, though they all expressed considerable interest.

“You’ve forced my hand...”

Jenkins had already made up his mind. Considering his rather tight financial situation, he wouldn’t be investing much more of his own money into this affair. To keep the lie of the “successful investment” alive and maintain the credibility of Miss Fabry’s identity, the necessary funds would have to come from the letter recipients themselves.

By this point, Jenkins had sent multiple rounds of questionnaires to Eldron. To maintain an air of authenticity, he would occasionally send out small batches even when he hadn’t received any replies.

Because the questionnaires delved into living habits, and he tailored each new survey with more detailed questions based on the previous responses, he was able to form a rough estimate of each correspondent’s financial situation.

He had no desire to become a fraudster; he was merely acting to uphold his “righteous cause,” so he would never deceive anyone. That night, determined to successfully impersonate the wildly successful “Miss Fabry,” Jenkins spent a great deal of effort sorting through thousands of letters. He then categorized the senders into five general classes based on the details from their questionnaires.

To the wealthiest class of correspondents, he wildly exaggerated the profits of the mining business. At the same time, he “tactfully” explained that the current investors in Nolan City were unwilling to accept new participants with large sums of money, as they didn’t want to share the gold pounds. As a gesture of apology and gratitude, and to prove that “Miss Fabry” had truly earned so much that she no longer needed financial assistance, he enclosed a one-gold-pound banknote in each envelope.

This was a substantial amount of money, enough to nearly empty Jenkins’s pockets, but he knew it would yield a return. You always need bait to catch a fish.

“Though it sounds strange, this is absolutely not fraud. I swear to the Goddess, I will not profit a single copper penny from this! This is a righteous cause!”

He murmured the words, tracing the sacred symbol over his chest before closing his eyes, bowing his head, and clasping his hands in a prayerful gesture.

For the correspondents with the least financial means, Jenkins was direct, stating that the mining business could still accept a few small-scale participants. Initial investments could be made in shillings, and once they started earning, they could increase their stake.

Using this as a baseline, he wrote five different versions of the reply letter, tailored to the wealth of each group. In the letters to the bottom three categories, he included the number for an anonymous account he had just opened, allowing them to wire funds directly.

This arrangement ensured that Jenkins would no longer have to send replies to the three less affluent groups; he would only receive their initial letters, and all subsequent transactions would be handled through the account. Once they actually sent money, Jenkins would transfer 150% of the amount back into their accounts within three to five business days as their “profit.”

The extra 50% would come from the two wealthiest categories of investors. After this round of “rejections,” all he had to do was play a little hard to get, and they would be wiring him large sums in no time. By creating a time lag—claiming the “amounts are too large and require time to process”—he could delay paying out the returns to these two groups, constantly using their money to pay the others. It was robbing Peter to pay Paul. With careful management and the cash he had on hand, he could sustain at least three profitable rounds for everyone involved.

After that, he would use suggestive language, implying that Miss Fabry had access to more shares in the mining business but was limited by her available funds. He would encourage the investors to bring in more participants, and to make the “business” fairer, they would receive a substantial bonus for every new investor they successfully recruited...

By repeating this cycle, as the master controller of all investments and the one holding the largest pool of capital, he could keep the lie from unraveling for at least six months, so long as he distributed the profits reasonably, consolidated funds quickly, and slowed the payout rate to balance the books.

As for what would happen after six months, Jenkins was confident that the real fraudsters would have been apprehended by then. He could then retreat with his mission accomplished, hold on to the last round of principal, and use it to repay all the investors who had “lost” money before they could turn a profit, based on their transfer records.

“Yes, this is good. Very good. No innocent people will be harmed. Apart from losing some of my own time, everyone is just temporarily ‘depositing’ their money in my account.”

Jenkins was firm on this point, even though he had learned the entire scheme from a legal education program. This was not a crime. Yes, he insisted on it.