“Permit me,” said Graham, leaning over the table and speaking with much force, “to call your attention to the fact that we are bright enough to keep society eternally on the defensive.”
“Granted,” said Mr. Braithwait.
“Small in numbers though we are, we necessitate the employment of a police force in every village, town, and city in the Union, to say nothing of special constables and private watchmen. We force every bank and corporation to sink thousands in costly safes, locks, and other safeguards, and no householder is ever free from apprehension on our account. We are one against many, so to speak, but we make the many tremble! Could we exercise this power without brains?”
“Ay! could we?” supplemented Montgomery, with flashing eyes.
“Granted again,” said Mr. Braithwait, cheerfully, “but quite foreign to the point at issue. Society is terrorized through its inertness, and when society enters on an active warfare you gentlemen cannot make a show of resistance. And even under our present policy of passive resistance there is but one thing that will save a criminal from the eventual clutch of the law, and that is—death.”
The youngest burglar turned white and Baxter cursed softly.
“You cannot, with all your brightness, commit a crime without leaving a trace,” went on Mr. Braithwait, impassively, “and every modern appliance is a stumbling-block in your path. The modern bank safe, equipped with time-locks, is impregnable; the electric light has made our streets as safe by night as day; and the telegraph has lengthened the arm of justice until it encircles the globe.”
