“All right. But first I’ll take all you have in the house,” I said.
“You’ve got to let me pay off the little fellows,” he said. “I’ll give you back what you put up, and anything that’s left. Wait till I cash the other tickets.” So I waited while he paid off the winners. Oh, I knew my money was safe. Teller wouldn’t welsh with the office doing such a good business. And if he did, what else could I do better than to take all he had then and there? I got my own two thousand dollars and about eight hundred dollars besides, which was all he had in the office. I told him I’d be there Monday morning. He swore the money would be waiting for me.
I got to Hoboken a little before twelve on Monday. I saw a fellow talking to the manager that I had seen in the St. Louis office the day Teller told me to go back to Dolan. I knew at once that the manager had telegraphed to the home office and they’d sent up one of their men to investigate the story. Crooks don’t trust anybody.
“I came for the balance of my money,” I said to the manager.
“Is this the man?” asked the St. Louis chap.
“Yes,” said the manager, and took a bunch of yellow backs from his pocket.
“Hold on!” said the St. Louis fellow to him and then turns to me, “Say, Livingston, didn’t we tell you we didn’t want your business?”
“Give me my money first,” I said to the manager, and he forked over two thousands, four five-hundreds and three hundreds.
“What did you say?” I said to St. Louis.
“We told you we didn’t want you to trade in our place.”