He entered a small unpretentious house, which was entirely dark, and locked the door behind him. He saw the sedan draw up as the cab pulled away.
Berchik dashed through the empty house and ran out the back door into another tiny alley which did not go to the front of the house. This way led him to another street, where he found a second cab awaiting him.
He instructed the driver to take him to the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street railway station.
The sedan had lost the trail.
Berchik caught his train; one hour later, he reached a small town in Connecticut. There he went to a garage, and gave his name as Robert Jennings. The garage man brought out a small coupe. The car was an old one, but as Berchik drove away, he realized that it was in excellent running order.
A few miles outside the little town, Berchik stopped the car. Beneath the front seat, he found two New York license plates.
He removed the Connecticut plates, and threw them into the woods beside the road. He attached the New York plates and drove along.
He smiled contentedly in the darkness. His safety was now assured.
This automobile, kept in the Connecticut town under an assumed name, would enable him to reach a city named in the directions; there he would take a train for the West.
AS Berchik’s car whirled along the deserted road, the fleeing man felt the first relief that he had known since he had come to America to deliver his master’s wealth.