“I’ve been coming to New York for the last thirty-five years,” he announced, “but never before has anyone — I’ve been robbed, and cheated, and double-charged, but— In New York City, too!”
He took the purse.
Garbett smiled, and edged away.
“Wait a minute, young man!” commanded Peter Riddick. “I not only want to thank you, I want to— You’re an honest man, and while some people say that virtue is its own reward, I think that honesty is a virtue that—”
“I don’t want any reward,” Garbett interrupted. He didn’t mind being told that he was an honest man, for he had a sense of humor. “I saw your wallet drop, and so I brought it—”
“If you’re in a hurry,” said Peter Riddick amiably, “I’ll walk along with you a little ways. For I’m not through with you, young man. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but— Don’t you need a little help some way?”
“Not that I know of,” Garbett answered, smiling. “I don’t need a thing, thank you.”
“It certainly is strange to meet an honest man,” mused the white-haired gentleman, standing directly in the path of hundreds of hurrying people, “particularly when you’ve had to pay extra for theater tickets, and something for just sitting at a table when you want to eat, and—” His manner changed swiftly. “Young man, I want you to come in and see me. I live in Velma, Delaware, and I need you in my business. I’m the president of the First National Bank, and I can certainly find a place for an honest young man in my bank. Now if you—”
Garbett’s ears twitched, and his eyes became introspective. Mr. Riddick thought these signs were good omens, and his shrewd, kindly eyes brightened.
“A young man, an honest young man—” the portly gentleman paused. “I suppose you have something to do — but — if you ever need a job, and come in to see me, I will see that you get it.”
“Well, I’m rather busy just now,” remarked Garbett, thinking of the wholesale silk house robbery.
“That’s too bad,” Peter Riddick was sincerely regretful. “But — the time may come when you’ll need some help: a position, or a loan. I want you to call on me then, young man”; he extracted a card and a banknote from the wallet. “Here’s my name and address, and here’s something for — for you to buy a present for your best girl.”
Garbett wanted the card, and he realized that Mr. Riddick really intended that he should accept the fifty-dollar bill. Already, possibilities had flashed into the crook’s mind. Here was a perfect entree into the First National Bank of Velma, Delaware! The limitless opportunities here! Opportunities for an honest young man, of course.
Garbett shook hands with Peter Riddick, and they parted with mutual expressions of esteem. And the crook put the bank president’s card carefully away where he could find it in case of need. The fifty dollars was invested in a present for Mazie.
II
Needs, unfortunately, have a habit of arising. Two days after Mazie had finished her work the proprietor of the wholesale silk establishment had a new burglar alarm system put in and engaged the services of a private detective agency.
Therefore when Garbett and his associates began their activities a number of things happened. Bells burst into sound, gray-clad private detectives rushed to the warehouse, and a rapid and undignified retreat was in order. One of the gang, ‘Red’ Somer, the lookout, did not escape, and he was requested to mention the names of his fellow criminals.
Garbett heard the call of the far and distant places. Red might not squeal, and then again he might. A bullet had pierced his thigh, he was kept in a hospital with a policeman stationed at the foot of his bed, and he had always been talkative. If Red made statements, Garbett would be visited by blue-coats, and the crook did not care to meet officers of the law in either a social or a business way.
Peter Riddick’s card was still in his possession, so Garbett decided to visit Velma, Delaware. With his usual care, he made thoughtful and intelligent preparations. First, he traveled to a small suburban town in New Jersey, and went straight to a hardware store on a side street.
Dan McKee was a black-haired man in the late forties, who wore a ferocious mustache behind a long black cigar. In the rear of Dan’s tiny store was as complete and well-equipped a laboratory as even an instructor in chemistry could desire.
It was rumored that Dan had made a discovery that would be of great benefit to a certain section of the world’s inhabitants. Several drops of water will soften a lump of sugar; gold will dissolve in chlorin and aqua regia, or nitromuriatic acid; and Dan’s solvent had a swift and penetrating effect upon even the hardest and most burglar-proof steel. Poured upon a knife-blade, it turned the blade into a paper-like substance. Properly applied to a safe, it would turn the metal into material of the consistency of cheese. The solvent did not attack aluminum or glass or rubber.
After a demonstration of the solvent, Garbett purchased a quart of the necessary liquid and returned to New York to say farewell, and ‘I’ll be back next week’ to Mazie.
In the Pennsylvania Station, Garbett made his farewell to Mazie. She was small and slender; she had a huge flood of golden brown hair; she wore a tan and deep blue scarf and a swagger coat suit of russet brown.
“Goodby,” said Mazie bravely, wondering whether Garbett would think of her every moment that he was away. “Bring me back a souvenir — something pretty.”
“Any particular kind of souvenir?” he asked, glancing up at the enormous clock with its black hands and Roman numerals.
“Oh — something — something I can wear in my hair,” she suggested.
A moment of thoughtful silence. Mazie knew of a hundred things she wanted to say, but she couldn’t decide which one was the most important. Garbett had the uncomfortable feeling that he hadn’t a thing to say, but he wished Mazie would not look as though she was about to cry.
“Have you got — it?” she asked. ‘It’ meaning Dan’s solvent.
“Yes, and a quart of something else.”
And then the announcer wailed his unintelligible and garbled song, which rose high and echoed from the ceiling, a signal that a train going for somewhere was soon to depart.
III
Long lines of apple trees, mostly plucked of their fruit, could be seen from the car windows. Velma was a thriving town, boasting a drug-store, several large stores that kept in stock everything from needles, on through clothing, china, typewriters, tobacco, furniture, up to literature — the works of Harold Bell Wright. It had a garage, and the county jail, as well as that prosperous, at present, financial institution — the First National Bank.
Garbett turned in between the stuccoed Colonial pillars of the bank, and entered the building. Behind a wire wall, beyond the desks and books, in the center of the ground floor, was the modern up-to-date bank safe.
“Young man, I’m glad to see you! Just in time for lunch!” said Peter Riddick, coming out from behind the wire wall. To this white-haired, portly, beaming bank president, every male was “Young man.”
“Sit down, and rest yourself first,” he invited, leading the way into his private office, “and then we’ll go home for food.”
In the banker’s office Garbett told his carefully prepared story. He was, he said, on his way to Washington, but he had stopped off for an hour or two. He was expected in the Capital on the following morning, so he could not accept Mr. Riddick’s instant invitation to spend the night. All the time the crook was remembering the appearance of the inside of the bank; he had a mental picture of its interior now, and he would refresh it later, when they went to lunch.