“You will be sure to be tracked,” Gilmore said, “if you remain in your present condition, and that will endanger my place. How much cash do you want to fix yourself up with?”
“Fifty dollars will do for the present. It’s a change for Morton Parks to be begging a paltry fifty-dollar bill, but my luck has turned—that’s all.”
“And you will help me to get rid of these people, and also assist in the electric-drill scheme?”
“So you are into that, after all,” said Parks. “I thought so all the time. Yes, I will help you all I can in both directions if you stake me now.”
Gilmore counted out the sum named, and handed it to his companion.
“Now,” said Parks, “tell me about this electric-drill scheme.”
Gilmore took a folded paper from his pocketbook and spread it out on the table. It was nothing more nor less than a carefully drawn plan of the buildings surrounding the bank which adjoined the restaurant.
“Here is the bank vault,” explained Gilmore, “and here is my place. The plan is to break through the cellar wall under this floor, and cut through the granite and steel walls of the bank with an electric drill. It can be done in two hours.”
“But won’t you strike too low in the vault?”
“No. The vault is two feet lower than the floor of the bank above, and we shall strike it just about right.”