“We might call at the bank some afternoon, and English might take the box while I talked to the president.”
“That’s it—just the thing!” cried Taylor; “I didn’t know just how it could be done, but was sure you could find some way.”
“How many clerks are there in the banking office?” asked Chelsea.
“Never mind them,” replied Taylor, confidently; “I’ll see they’re kept busy.”
After the young clerk had made thus clear the possibility of success, Chelsea agreed with him that they might make a good “touch.” So English George was consulted, and the plans laid for an immediate attempt. As suggested by Taylor, the closing hour of business was selected in which to make the “lift.” The president’s room was just off the office and not many steps from the paying teller’s desk. The box of securities nearly always lay at the teller’s elbow.
The day following the completion of the arrangements, a well-dressed Englishman was admitted to the office of President Martin. Almost immediately behind him came another man, apparently the companion of the first. The first caller introduced himself to the president, saying he was anxious to obtain information about money exchange, and that he’d been recommended to Mr. Martin by the agent of the steamship line by which he’d just landed in New York. The president was delighted to meet the strange Englishman, and heartily welcomed him to America, adding, “I shall be pleased to be of service to you.”
They conversed in this manner for fifteen minutes. Apparently the Englishman had not noticed the second caller, who, upon entering the office, had remained at a distance. President Martin had wondered, while they were talking, why his visitor hadn’t introduced his fellow-traveller. Perhaps, though, the other was only a servant. At any rate President Martin was soon so engrossed with the pleasing Englishman’s humorous story of a ship passenger’s experience that the presence of the other slipped his mind.
Presently the second caller walked out in the banking office and stood idly there for several minutes. John Taylor saw him, knew him, and at once took the cue. The stranger saw that Taylor called the clerks over to his desk and was amusing them in some manner. The paying teller was attending to a long line of bank customers before his window. At his elbow, as Taylor had said, there lay a tin box. The stranger edged along in that direction and reached over, with a quick movement, to possess it. As he did so his elbow struck hard against a high stool. He tried spasmodically to catch it, but failed. Crash it went to the floor, and every eye was directed toward him, and every eye saw a flying figure dash into President Martin’s office, and, climbing to the window-sill, disappear, before the two occupants of the room, apparently, realized what had happened. Chelsea George, at Mr. Martin’s side, gritted his teeth and suppressed an oath when he saw English George go through the window empty-handed.
The banking office was in an uproar in an instant. President Martin demanded what was the trouble. Clerk Taylor explained that he’d seen a gentleman standing in the office a moment before the crash, but supposed he was a friend of the president’s.
“I thought the man was with you,” exclaimed President Martin to Chelsea George.