ROBBING THE BOYLSTON BANK

Raymond was very proud of having gotten a footing among the big bank burglars, whom he had long looked upon with respect and envy. After several minor robberies Raymond became uneasy, and declared that he wanted to do a really big job that would be worth while—something that would astonish the police and would merit the respect of the big professional bank burglars.

Being a native of Massachusetts, he decided to give his attention to something in his own State. He made a tour of inspection of all the Boston banks, and decided that the famous Boylston Bank, the biggest in the city, would suit him.

And, in picking this great bank, Raymond had indeed selected an undertaking which was worthy of his skill and daring.

On Washington Street Raymond's quick eye at once discovered a vacant shop adjoining the Boylston Bank. He rented this shop, ostensibly for a patent medicine laboratory, filled the windows with bottles of bitters and built a partition across the back of the shop. The partition was to hide the piles of débris which would accumulate as the robbers burrowed into the bank next door; the bottles in the window to prevent passersby seeing too much of the interior.

When news of this clever ruse of Raymond's came out in the papers after the robbery, I made a note of it and used the same idea years later in robbing an Illinois bank at its president's request. That is an interesting chapter in my life which I will give you soon.

Careful measurements had shown where the tunneling through the thick walls of the bank could best be bored. Work was done only at night, and in a week's time only a thin coating of plaster separated them from the treasure. The robbers entered the vault on Saturday night, broke open three safes which they found there and escaped with a million dollars in cash and securities. After this crime America was not safe for Raymond, so he and his comrades, including Charley Bullard, fled to Europe.

In Paris Bullard opened a gambling house, and there Raymond lived when the criminal ventures from which he was amassing his first fortune permitted.

And now there entered into Raymond's life a very remarkable romance, which almost caused him to reform.

In one of the big Parisian hotels at this time was an Irish barmaid named Kate Kelley. She was an unusually beautiful girl—a plump, dashing blonde of much the same type Lillian Russell was years ago. Bullard and Raymond both fell madly in love with her.

The race for her favor was a close one, despite the fact that Bullard was an accomplished musician, spoke several languages fluently, and was in other ways Raymond's superior. The scales, however, were surely turning in Raymond's favor when the rumor that he was a bank robber reached Kate's ears.

Raymond admitted this was the truth. But he never attempted to take advantage of his friend Bullard by telling Kate that he also was a thief. That was characteristic of the man. Criminal though he was, he never stooped to anything mean or underhanded, and would stand by his friends through thick and thin. Instead of trying to drag Bullard to disappointment with him, he pleaded with Kate to forgive his past and to help him make a fresh start.

"Marry me," he urged, "and I'll never commit another crime. We'll go to some distant land and I'll start all over again in some decent, honorable business."

But Kate would not be persuaded. She could not marry a self-confessed thief—no, never! A month later she married Bullard, little dreaming how glad the American police would be to lay their hands on him. Raymond was best man at the wedding, and to his credit it should be said that the bridal couple had no sincerer well-wisher than he.