I also didn't forget to place with these cards in my handbag some worthless mining stock which had been my share of a western bank robbery, and which even Ellen Peck's shrewd magic couldn't turn into cash. This would be useful, I thought, in holding the old cashier's attention.
Then there were my horses and a carriage befitting my wealth which the men hired from a livery stable. I called on two young thieves whom I knew over in New York, and, by promising them a small percentage of whatever we succeeded in stealing, induced them to dress up in some borrowed livery and act as my driver and footman.
At last everything was arranged and the day was set for the robbery. The morning dawned warm and bright—just the sort of weather which would make an invalid widow feel like venturing out to transact a little business.
I had not seen Bigelow and Meaney since the night before. They had called then at my rooms to go over our plans for the last time. Bigelow was to engage the attention of the bookkeeper, who would be left alone in the bank after the cashier's departure, while wiry little Johnny Meaney made his way through the side door and got the money.
At a few minutes past twelve my carriage drew up in front of the bank. Two or three of the officials were just going to lunch. If nothing unexpected had happened to change the bank's routine, the cashier and one bookkeeper were alone in the counting-room and the coast was clear.
Through my blue glasses I could see Tom Bigelow's big form swinging down the street as unconcernedly as if he had not a care in the world. And from the opposite direction, although I could not see him, I felt positive that Meaney was on his way to carry out his part in our crime.
The footman jumped down and stood at attention while I fumbled in my bag for one of my black bordered cards. With hands which trembled naturally enough to give the last touch of reality to my feeble appearance I handed him the card and tremulously whispered my instructions. He bowed respectfully and disappeared inside the bank.
Would the cashier be good enough to step outside and discuss a little matter of business with a lady who was unable to leave her carriage?
The cashier is very sorry, but he is extremely busy and, as he is practically alone in the bank just now, it will be impossible for him to leave his desk. Can't the lady arrange to step inside for a minute?
Before the nervous footman has time to explain that the lady is a cripple and cannot leave her carriage the cashier has taken another look at the card, has recognized the name, and realizes that it is the widow of a millionaire who is waiting outside for an audience with him.