“Real money. Want to see me cash it? Come on. We’ll get a taxi at the next corner. Be at the bank in fifteen minutes.” With his head in a whirl the boy followed his strange new friend to the corner, entered a taxi and was whisked away.
Three hours later when he started for Tom Howe’s room his thoughts were still spinning. He had stumbled on a peach of a news story for good old John Nightingale. And there was to be more; indeed, very much more than he at that moment dreamed.
When, promptly at the appointed hour, he entered the building in which Tom’s room was located he found himself in one of the city’s most celebrated sky-scrapers. Like a giant needle it pierced the sky.
“Two flights above the last stop,” he thought with a thrill. “Up among the pigeons, bats and stars.”
In this he was not so far from being wrong. Tom’s place was a snug little spot just beneath the clock.
“From this high pinnacle,” Tom said as Jimmie, having entered the room, stood staring, “I look down upon the crooked little world that is a great city. See!” he pointed at a powerful telescope resting on a tripod. “Take a squint.”
Jimmie took one squint into the telescope, then gazed long and earnestly. Those spider-like creatures moving over the sidewalk seeming all arms and legs were turned once more by this magic glass into men and women. Those large black bugs crawling along the street became autos.
“What I just said is more truth than fancy,” said Tom. “Fact is, in these days when I have no more pressing matters to hold my attention I train my telescope on a certain garage.”
“Garage? Why?” Jimmie asked in surprise.
“In that garage,” said Tom, his voice took on a note of mystery, “are stored two trucks. Under the hoods of these trucks are hidden unusually powerful motors. These trucks, I am convinced, are being held in readiness for one of the largest and boldest robberies in the city’s history.”