"But I chose to, and that is enough. First, all the money we got was five thousand dollars, for the bonds and securities are utterly useless; and second, the will of old Mansfield, which I was most anxious to secure, by your stupidity is lost, perhaps forever, and the secret of the hiding-place of a fortune in solid cash is gone with it, I suppose you understand."
"Well, it ain't my fault. You drew the plans for the job. You said there was a hundred thousand in specie in the vault of the bank."
"So there was at noon. How was I to tell that they would send it all to the Sub-Treasury in Wall street for security before three o'clock?"
"That's your business. It ain't mine."
"But the Mansfield will and the parchment telling the hiding-place of the buried treasure—who botched that job, may I ask?"
"I took the box of papers you told me about. I was particular enough to break open the lid to assure myself that all was right. I had it in my hand when we heard those infernal bats whistling in Trinity church-yard. It scared the life out of us, I want you to understand, for how were we to know they were bats or what they were? I must have dropped the box in the snow as we ran up Broadway."
"And because you happened to see Maria wandering about, you thought she picked it up, and killed her, only to find out your mistake. Well, Rube, upon my life you are a precious fool. Next time I let you into a scheme like this I'll know it, I guess."
"Come, you've called me names enough," replied the burglar, gruffly, raising his head and facing the man before him. "You are as deep in the mud as I am in the mire, I want you to understand. The detectives will turn New York upside down for this affair. Now, what do you propose to do? They've got Joe Dutton, and they've got a part of the swag. It's my opinion that the best thing we can do is to skip."
"Nonsense! Joe is all right. I shall make it my business to send some one to him at once. Have no fear, Rube. He'll never blow."
"And the—the body?"