The young man fell back against the wall. His little handful of silver
clattered on the floor as he went limp; for a moment he regarded Hagger
with stupid eyes, and then began to sink. Hagger vaulted lightly across
the counter, lowered his man, and stretched him out comfortably. He even
delayed to draw up an eyelid and consider the light in the eye beneath.
Then, satisfied that he had produced no more than a moment of sleep, he
went to work.
He knew beforehand that there was very little value in the material
displayed, compared with its bulk and weight. All that was of worth was
contained in the two trays of the central case—watches and rings, and
in particular a pair of bracelets of square-faced emeralds. A little
pale and a little flawed were those stones, but still they were worth
something.
He dumped the contents of the two trays into his coat pockets, and then
he walked out the back way. The door was locked, and there was no key in
it, but he was not disturbed. He braced his shoulder against it and
thrust the weight home. There was only a slight scraping sound, and the
door sagged open and let the rain drive in.
He was so little in a hurry that he paused to look up to the lights and
the roar of an elevated train crashing past. Then he walked lightly down
the street, turned over to Lexington at the next block, and caught a
southbound taxi. At Third Street he stopped, and then walked back two
blocks and turned in at a narrow entrance.
The tinkle of the shop bell brought a looming figure clad in black,
greasy with age.
“Hullo, Steffans.”
“Hullo, Hagger. Buy or sell tonight, kid?”
“I sell, bo.”
The big man laughed silently and ushered the customer into a back room.
“Lemme see,” he urged, and put his hands on the edge of a table covered
with green felt.
“Nothing much,” said Hagger, “but safety first, y’understand? Big dough
for big chances. I’m going light lately.”
After this apology, he dumped his loot on the table, and Steffans
touched it with expert fingers.
“Chicken feed, chicken feed!” he said. “But I’m glad to have it. I could
handle a truck load of this sort of stuff every day and the damned
elbows would never bother me.”
“Go on,” said Hagger.
“You want to make a move,” said Steffans. “You’re always in a hurry
after a job. Look at some of the other boys, though. They never attempt
to leave town.”
“Except for the can,” said Hagger.
Steffans settled himself before the little heap and pulled his
magnifying glass down from his forehead.
“That’s right,” he said. “You never been up the river. You got the
luck.”
“I got the brains,” corrected Hagger. “Some saps work with their hands.
Brains are what count. Brains, and crust like yours, Steffans, you
robber.”
“I get a high percentage,” said Steffans, “but then I always mark ’em up
a full value. Y’understand? I’ll give you seventy on this batch,
Hagger.”
“Seventy for me after what I’ve done,” sighed Hagger, “and you sit here
and swallow thirty for nothing!”
Steffans smiled. “I’ve done a couple of stretches myself,” he said. “You
know the dicks make life hell for me. Now, I’ll give you seventy percent
on this stuff. Wait till I finish valuing it.”
He began to go through the items swiftly, looking aside now and then to
make swift calculation, while Hagger watched in admiration. Of all the
fences, Steffans was the king, for the percentage he took was high, but
the prices he gave were a little better than full. So he sat in his dark
little pawnshop and drew toward himself vast loot collected by
second-story men, pickpockets, yeggs of all descriptions.
“This isn’t so bad, kid,” he said, “and I’ll put the whole thing down at
eleven thousand. That’ll give you seven thousand and seven hundred. Take
you as far as Pittsburgh, I guess?”
“It’s more than I expected,” said Hagger instantly. “But what do I have
to take instead of cash?”
“Not a damn thing. I got a payment in just a few minutes ago. Hold on a
minute.”
He disappeared and came back with a bundle of paper money in his hand.
Of this he counted out the specified amount and then swept all the
stolen jewels into a small canvas bag.
“Is that all, Hagger?”
“That’s all.”
“So long, then. What was the dump?”
“No place you know, hardly likely. So long, Steffans. Here’s where I
blow.”
He said good-bye to the pawnbroker, and, stepping out onto the sidewalk,
he crashed full against the hurrying form of one about to enter—a tall,
young man, and by the light from within, Hagger made out the features of
Friedman.
It startled him. Nothing but a sort of magic intuition could have
brought the jeweler to such a place in his hunt for the robber. Or had
Steffans relaxed his precautions lately and allowed the rank and file to
learn about his secret business?
This he thought of on the instant, and at the same time there was the
glitter of a gun shoved into his face, and a hoarse voice of rage and
joy sounding at his ear.
“The hand is faster than the gun,” Hagger was fond of saying.
He struck Friedman to the wet pavement and doubled swiftly around the
corner.
II
The Tortoise and the Hare
Something that Steffans had said now brought a destination to Hagger’s
mind, and he took a taxi to Penn Station and bought a ticket for
Pittsburgh. There was a train out in thirty minutes, and Hagger waited
securely in the crowd until the gatekeeper came walking up behind the
bars. Gatekeeper?
“Oh, damn his fat face!” snarled Hagger. “It’s Buckholz of the Central
Office. May he rot in hell!” Past Buckholz he dared not go, and,
therefore, he left Penn Station, regretting the useless ticket, for he
was a thrifty soul, was Hagger.
There are more ways out of New York than out of a sieve. Hagger got the
night boat for Albany, and slept heavily almost until the time to dock.
Then he dressed in haste and went down on deck as the mass formed at the
head of the gangplank.
It amused Hagger and waked him up to sidle through that mob, and he
managed it so dexterously that it was always some other person, rather
than he, who received the black looks of those whom he jostled. He
sifted through until he was among the first near the head of the broad
gangplank, and the next moment he wished that he were in any other
place, for on the edge of the wharf he saw the long, yellow face of
Friedman, and his bright black eyes seemed to be peering up at him.
There was no use trying to turn back. At that moment the barrier was
removed, and the crowd poured down, carrying Hagger swiftly on its broad
current. They joined the mass that waited on the platform.
Suddenly a voice screamed: “Officer! Look! It’s him!”
It was Friedman, that damned Friedman, again.
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