Davis started from his chair. Not unaware was he of the fact that employers who take the pains to ascertain what their employees do are very apt to distrust those who gamble much. I knew, too, that he was thinking hard, and I could see that his eyes curiously fastened on the bills, as though he would fathom how much I had. I could have told him that I held eight one-hundred-dollar bills in the roll, but said nothing for fully five minutes. Before Davis spoke I realized that he would fall. His eyes betrayed him.
“Since you look at it in that light,” he said, slowly, and in a half-whisper—for, though we were alone, his wife, a goodly, honest dame, so far as I could tell on short acquaintance, was in an adjoining room hushing a babe to sleep on her breast—“since you look at it in that light, I won’t see any one—”
“Since you look at it in that light, Tom,” said I, copying his words, “there are eight hundred dollars,” and I forced the bills into his hand. I must say his fingers trembled, and let me say it truthfully to his credit, if credit it be, his hand seemed to close on the money most reluctantly. But I had him, and no faltering on my part would lose me the victory. To make the corrupt bargain more binding, I said, meaning every word, which Davis knew full well: “If anything comes off, you’ll get ten per cent of it; better promise I can’t give, for my word is as strong as my bond.”
Davis sat rigid, grasping the money. His big fist shook, and there was a dazed look in his eyes.
“No—man,” said he; “don’t offer me anything like that. I don’t want the bank’s money. I’ll just keep away—that’s all.”
“Talk no more about that now, Tom. We will let time deal with the rest. Just keep your hands off and your tongue dumb; don’t breathe a word about money out there,” and I pointed to the next room, where came sounds of a fond mother crooning to her babe. “Good-by, Tom,” were my parting words. He was a sorry, pale picture, I trow. Many times since I’ve been smitten with remorse; but then it was different then—years change one so. It had not taken long to corrupt Davis, but he was a hard proposition, much harder than I’ve been able in my poor way to make clear.
Having been successful, it was time to resume my efforts to loot the bank. I had the combination numbers of the vault and safes, and all that I must do was to provide a means of getting into the bank unseen and carry off the “dust.” During the days I labored with Davis my faithful Billy had not been idle. President Noblit had been induced to hire an outside watchman for the bank, whom we could use for certain purposes. This advantage had been the result of the discovery of the plot to rob the bank. I smiled at Billy’s cleverness when he told me that he’d got the new watchman job for his brother, who would be “right” for us.
In proceeding with my plans it was deemed wise to keep an eye on Tom Davis. I comforted myself with the belief that he would not interfere, but a vigilant watch was kept on him by one of Josh Taggart’s underlings. Besides, Billy was to report to me if he saw or heard of him in communication with the bank officials. Once Taggart reported that Davis was acting very suspiciously at times, and that there was some reason to doubt his good faith. Though bothered a little by this turn of affairs, I kept on with my plans. Occasionally I saw Davis, but I did not allow him to know I had any doubt of him. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t seen anything to break my faith. To be on the safe side I told him of certain plans, which were diametrically different from those on which I was proceeding. In this way I hoped to steer clear of an ambush. In other words, I didn’t tell Davis that I intended to “pull off” the trick between half-past eleven o’clock on Saturday night and two o’clock Sunday morning of the next week. During these hours I knew that he usually stowed himself away to sleep in a Front Street building, several squares from the Corn Exchange Bank.
At my first attempt on the bank I had shipped one of my teams to Philadelphia as a means of “getaway,” so similar arrangements for a dash toward New York were completed for the second attempt. I expected to be well out of town by daylight, and, having a good start, the rest, under ordinary conditions, would be easy. That there might not be any mistakes, I went over the whole plan with Billy. He was cautioned to see that his brother attended to his duties strictly, except on the night of the robbery. In other words he must remain on his post, and not wander to a near-by saloon for a great deal of whiskey, and a little heat, the weather being cold. Billy promised that his brother would not miss the chance to help make success for us. Among other things I decided on, was to use Billy’s brother as a blind capture; that is, take him in the bank bound and gagged as though he’d been caught unawares on his post of duty. This would ward suspicion from him and Billy as well. I had several new associates who’d come well recommended to me, and I put them through the lesson,—at least, told them all it was needful for them to know. Two of them had police uniforms supplied by Josh Taggart. They were to enter the bank by means of the duplicate key to the Chestnut Street door. Being in the uniform of the regular police, the night watchmen would be thrown off their guard, and to add to the tangle my associates would pretend to arrest them for a violation of some one of their duties. When this part was played correctly, I and the other lads would come in with the bound outside watchman. At that moment the fake coppers would throw the night watchman or men to the floor and do the gagging and binding trick, and the way would be clear to the vault!
With these plans well in hand, it seemed to me that all that lay between me and success was the wait for the important day to come. For the second time, after months of scheming and counterplotting, I had apparently surmounted many difficulties, and it seemed to me that perseverance was about to earn its oft-boasted title of a reward winner, in my case. It lacked only eight days of the Saturday night for which I anxiously waited, when the unexpected again happened. I swore roundly, not at President Noblit, but at another. With vigilance that should be the possession of every high official in the banking world impressed with the responsibility of handling the property of others, the president paid an unexpected visit to the bank early in the morning hours. Naturally, he wanted to know if his watchmen were attending to their duties. And simply enough, he looked for the outside watchman first. Billy’s brother was nowhere to be seen. President Noblit went to the nearest saloon, and hadn’t to go any farther, for there the watchman was, seated comfortably next to the stove. He was two blocks off his post of duty. Thus ended the bank watchman career of Billy’s brother, and with him went my second attempt to loot the Corn Exchange Bank. A new watchman for the outside was engaged, and he proved to be the right sort of a man—for the best protection of the bank. I wasn’t the only one who cursed Billy’s brother, for Billy took a hand, and he wasn’t at a loss for words.