Why crime does not pay

by Sophie Lyons

I purchased a small milk can and, as its newness might attract attention, I rubbed the can with dirt until it took on a time-worn appearance. Then I secured one of the common baskets carried very often by the women who go to market to dispose of small lots of vegetables. For several days my pals and myself rehearsed the work we had to do so that when the time of action came we were perfect in our parts.

We had found out from our daily observations of the bank that the cashier, who was a good deal of a dandy, went out every day at half past twelve and returned about 1 o'clock. Several of the other clerks in the bank went out for their lunch at the same time. At fifteen minutes to one there were fewer clerks in the bank than at any other period of the day, and if we were to do our work at all it must be accomplished at that time.

There was only one drawback to this arrangement—the cashier occasionally came back at five or ten minutes to one, and we could not be certain that he would stay out the full half hour on the day we operated. If he came back before 1 o'clock our scheme would be frustrated and we would probably be arrested. So it was decided that I should lay outside the bank and intercept the cashier if he should happen along before my pals made their get-away from the bank.

On the day of the robbery we were near the bank at half past twelve, and waited till a quarter of one, when we saw several other clerks go out. Then the rest of my band hastened into the bank, and I kept my eyes fixed on the direction in which the cashier usually came. The robbers who went into the bank had a number of little formalities to get over before it was possible to grab the money, and this took time.

They had been inside nearly ten minutes when I spied the cashier walking up the street toward the bank. As luck would have it, he was getting back five minutes ahead of his usual time. I strolled leisurely to meet him, dressed up, of course, as the Quaker housewife, with my basket full of vegetables and can of milk on my arm.

The cashier and I came together in the middle of the block, about a hundred feet from the bank. I accosted him and asked for some fictitious address, in a broken English kind of lingo, which he could not at first understand. He was a very polite young man, and, of course, stopped to help me out of my little difficulty.

While I was engaging the cashier in this fashion, I kept my eyes rambling to the bank to see if my pals were getting away, for if the cashier had gone down at that moment he would see them in the act of robbing, and all would be lost.

After holding the cashier for a minute or two, he became impatient at my unintelligible talk and said he was sorry he could not help me and would have to be going. Now, under no circumstances could I permit that cashier to leave then. If necessary I would have grabbed him about the neck and held him by force until my companions escaped. But a better scheme than this suggested itself; I deliberately spilled the can of milk over the cashier's clothes, doing it, of course, in an apparently innocent way.

The nice white milk settled all over the young man's vest and coat, and he looked a sorry sight indeed. He was exasperated at my awkwardness, as he called it, and took out his handkerchief to wipe off the milk, and I, full of sympathy for his deplorable plight, also took out my handkerchief and gave my assistance. While we were trying to get rid of the milk I saw the robbers hurry out of the bank and walk rapidly up the street. Then I knew they had gotten the cash, and it was no longer necessary for me to detain the cashier. I mumbled my apologies to the poor, milk-bespattered cashier, and then hurried off down the street.

I went into a doorway—which I had picked out in advance, of course—and took off my Quaker disguise. Under the disguise I had on my regular clothes. I left the Quaker outfit, milk can and all, in this strange doorway and then hustled off to meet my pals at the rendezvous previously agreed upon. We divided the money—we had obtained $90,000—and stayed in the town a few days.