“Don’t give yourself any trouble about it. It’s just from me to her. Our husbands, of course, mustn’t know. I’ll put it here. Poor Amelia!”
There was a crystal and silver bowl on the table, and I put the bag into it and placed a book over it.
“Mrs. Thatcher,” she said, quickly, “really, I—”
“Hush!” I said, dramatically, “it’s for Amelia! We understand!”
And then the men entered the room.
We left a few minutes later. The butler called a cab for us, and even if a person had never been a thief he ought to have had some idea of how we felt as we issued out of that house and walked down the steps. We neither of us spoke till we got inside the hansom and drove off—safe for that time, anyway.
We went to Handsome Harry’s place for that night, and sent him back for Maud, with the message she must get out immediately with what things she could bring. By eleven she was with us with her trunk and mine on top of a four-wheeler. The next morning we had scattered—I for Calais en route for Paris, Tom for Edinburgh. Maud went to join a vaudeville company that she acts with “between-whiles.” We had to leave a good many things in the flat; but I felt we’d got out cheaply, and had no regrets.
That is the history of my connection with the Castlecourt diamond robbery. Of course, it was not the end of the connection of our gang with the case, but my actual participation ended here. I was simply an interested spectator from this on. My statement is merely the record of my own personal share in the theft, and as such is written with as much clearness and fulness as I, who am unused to the pen, have got at my command.
Statement of Cassius P. Kennedy,
formerly of Necropolis City, Ohio,
now Manager of the London Branch
of the Colonial Box, Tub, and Cordage
Company (Ltd.) of Chicago and
St. Louis.