Shinburn said that if I would have a double team for a “get-away” he’d do the inside work. I did my part forthwith. The plan was to get the combination numbers of the first vault door one evening, and the next enter the bank as soon as business was over and the doors locked. Getting the “dust,” it appeared, would be thus accomplished without much effort, and relocking the vault door, leaving nothing in sight to indicate our visit, we would be four or five hours on our way to New York before the discovery of the robbery.
Our planning would have been carried out to a dot had not a piece of gross carelessness on the part of the bank’s cashier occurred. In closing the vault he left the second door to it unlocked. When Shinburn got through the first door, he found the one leading right up to the very safes unfastened. This seemed to be an unexpected piece of good luck. As a matter of fact, Shinburn was able to place our “Little Joker” on the dial of the inside safe, and thereby accomplished in one sitting what might have required two or more. He got the combination to the second door of the vault, obtaining it by means of a steel wire, which he inserted in the rim of the tumbler, thus pushing back the spring that held the combination numbers in position, but in getting them Shinburn “pied” the tumblers, as the printer would term it, which necessitated resetting them. Having the original numbers and being pressed for time, he did it hurriedly and left the bank. Everything seemed to be working toward the certain looting of the bank the following evening. Mark had been on the way a few minutes when it occurred to him that he had possibly made an error in computing the numbers of the pied combination. In some manner he believed he’d set the last tumbler at thirty-five instead of thirty-six. It was too late, if that were the case, to remedy it, so there was nothing to do but to wait and hope for the best. If the mistake had been made, there would be plenty evidence of it when the cashier attempted to unlock the vault in the morning.
Well, Shinburn did hear from it. The inner door could not be opened, try as the cashier would. A great mystery seemed to confront the bank people. What had happened to the combination? It had worked well hitherto. It did not occur to them that some one had been tampering with the lock. Unable to open the vault, the Lillie Lock Company was telegraphed to forthwith send on an expert to make an examination. In the meantime, the bank’s cash being locked up, not much business was done. The expert came, and, after working several hours, solved the mystery.
“Burglars,” he said, with a snap, as he held up to the bank people’s astonished gaze our “Little Joker.” “I found it on the dial of the money safe. Your bank would have been ‘touched’ within a few hours. Some one bungled the lock on the second vault door and that gave the snap away.”
The amazement of the bankers was taken for doubt by the expert, so he went on to a further explanation.
“We’ve long suspected something of this kind, but could never get our hands on it. Through this discovery we’ve done a great service to the banking people of the country. Any number of banks have been robbed by the mere opening of the vaults and safes with combination numbers, all of which were supposed to be kept secret; only known to one or two officials or employees of a bank. This is a great discovery.”
And the expert was right. If it so happen that these pages meet the eyes of any one using these locks with the same dials to-day, he will at once realize how utterly worthless they are as a safeguard against the real professional burglar. I know positively that the “Little Joker” was the cause of many alterations in the Lillie locks, and its loss to me greatly interfered with my hitherto easy access to bank vaults and kept not a little funds away from me.
Having been defeated by no one but himself, Mark reported to me, and feeling much chagrined over the failure of our “on-the-side” job, he returned to New York and we continued our scheming for the millions in the Ocean Bank.
Mark had played a lone hand and lost. I was sorry, and of course he felt badly enough over his bungling, so nothing was said. None of us is infallible.