"Mr. Trimm, recently president of the late Thirteenth National Bank, was taking  a trip which was different in a number of ways from any he had ever taken. To  begin with, he was used to parlor cars and Pullmans and even luxurious private  cars when he went anywhere; whereas now he rode with a most mixed company in a  dusty, smelly day coach. In the second place, his traveling companion was not  such a one as Mr. Trimm would have chosen had the choice been left to him, being  a stupid-looking German-American with a drooping, yellow mustache. And in the  third place, Mr. Trimm's plump white hands were folded in his lap, held in a  close and enforced companionship by a new and shiny pair of Bean's Latest Model  Little Giant handcuffs. Mr. Trimm was on his way to the Federal penitentiary to  serve twelve years at hard labor for breaking, one way or another, about all the  laws that are presumed to govern national banks... "