“On my salary?” said Riggs. “I should say not.”
“That’s just the trouble,” said Barrows. “It’s the fault of the bank, for not giving a man a living wage. They’ve only themselves to blame if anything goes wrong like this. That’s what has turned me into a socialist. When we get control, the men who oppress the poor and make men work for starvation wages won’t be allowed to keep their ill-gotten gains. It may be a long time before we can win in a national election. But in the meantime we are at work quietly. There is an organization that makes it its business to adjust the balance of wealth in all the countries of the world. I am at the head of it in this State. The law, made by capitalists, calls what we take stealing, but that won’t last long.
“Perhaps, if you will work with us, we can help you in this matter. We cannot make the directors of your bank give up their unearned profits, but we can take them away from them. The money we get is used for the cause, and no one really suffers. We do not take from the poor. Instead, we give to them. We help strikes and relieve distress.”
“Do you mean you’d rob the bank?” asked Riggs, in horror. He had been too long a banker not to be appalled by such a suggestion.
“Call it that, if you like,” said Barrows, who was enjoying his task of playing socialist to fool Riggs, who was an innocent, weak-minded little man. “That’s what most people would call what I’m suggesting. But you want to remember that it’s just what you’ve done. Stealing is stealing, whether you take a thousand dollars or two hundred thousand. And our way is safe from detection. No one will ever put us in jail—which is what they will do to you as soon as they find out what you have done.”
For the first time Riggs seemed to realize where he stood. He had convinced himself so thoroughly that he was only borrowing, that the idea that he was a thief was difficult for him to grasp.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, shuddering. “I don’t see what good I can be to you.”
“We won’t ask you to take a cent,” said Barrows, almost pitying the little bank clerk, so abject was his terror. “But we’ll need you in the work of enforcing a division of the spoils of these men you work for, who are the real robbers. We will want you to tell us all about the construction of the bank; to give us the combination of the vault and the safes, if you can, and to help us in other ways. You will be perfectly safe. The thousand you took will appear to have gone with the larger sum that we shall take, and I will see that you get, as your share, another thousand dollars.”
The fear of arrest hung over Riggs. He could not bear the idea of public disgrace. At another time he would have been able to see how ridiculous were the sentiments that Barrows was setting forth. It was not socialism, except in a distorted and absurd form, that Barrows was preaching to him. But Riggs wanted to be convinced. He was like a drowning man, clutching at a straw, and the chance to escape the detection that had seemed inevitable was too much for him.
When he had taken the thousand dollars, he had been able to convince himself that he was not stealing it. He was still, in his own eyes, honest. His theft, as he saw it, was only technical. And now it was the same. Before he could agree to what Barrows might demand, he had to convince himself that his employers had treated him badly, and that in helping these men to rob them, he was taking part in the fight for human rights. A thorough weakling, easily impressed and guided by a stronger will, Riggs did not find it hard to do this. He did not think very long before agreeing to what Barrows wanted.