Raymond stood long and thoughtfully on the edge of the crowd, studied the painting, took in the doors, walls, windows, chatted with an attendant, and slowly sauntered out, swinging his cane.
"I have the idea," exclaimed Raymond the instant they were in the street again. "We'll steal that picture and use it as a club to compel the Agnews to go bail for Tom Warren."
"You don't want that picture," said Philips. "It's a clumsy thing to do anything with."
"Of course I don't want the picture—but Agnew does," Raymond replied. "If I get it and send word that Tom Warren, who is in jail, knows where it's hidden—don't you suppose Agnew will hurry down to Old Bailey Prison, bail poor Tom out mighty quick, and pay him something besides if Warren digs up the picture for him?"
"He might," admitted Philips.
"Why, of course he will," persisted Raymond. "And it's the only way I can see to make sure of getting Tom Warren out before he is called for trial. When they try him they'll convict him; and then it's too late."
Philips was not enthusiastic over the scheme. In the first place he thought it too risky. Even if they did succeed in getting the picture he feared it would prove an elephant on their hands. Raymond, however, was a man who seldom receded from a decision, no matter how quickly it had been made. He argued away Philip's objections and with the assistance of Joe Elliott, a forger whom they took into their confidence, they proceeded with their plans for the robbery.
HOW THE GREAT MASTERPIECE WAS STOLEN
It was decided to make the attempt on the first dark, foggy night. Elliott was to be the "lookout" and keep a watchful eye for any of the army of policemen and private detectives who guarded the gallery's treasures. Philips was to serve as the "stepladder." On his broad, powerful shoulders, the light, agile Raymond would mount like a circus performer, climb through a window and cut the precious canvas out of the frame. It was a job fraught with the greatest danger, for the gallery was carefully protected with locks and bars and, besides, no one could tell when a policeman or detective might appear on the scene.
A thick fog settled down on the city the night of May 15, 1876. Under its cover the thieves decided to make their descent on the gallery early the next morning.