• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 1489 0

o to 9 running around it. That was the combination lock, he knew, but he did not know the combination. He fiddled with it for a while, turning it this way and that, but realized that it was hopeless. He was very nervous, and decided he had better return the money to the depositors until he could find out what the combination number was. He went from house to house, seeking to return the money, but he was rebuffed at every door; the people had revealed their money hiding places, and entrusted their money to John’s bank; it was up to John to keep his side of the bargain. He took the money home and ate supper with it in his lap; he put it under his pillow before going to bed; he kept his revolver loaded and in his hand while he tried to sleep, but he couldn’t sleep. He remembered that his father never slept, so he took the money down to the mill and asked Isaac if he would mind keeping an eye on the money for him. Isaac nodded. John reflected, and decided that since he had asked his father if he would mind, and his father nodded, that meant that he would mind. “You mean you won’t?” John said. Isaac nodded. John took the money home again and lay sleepless all night with it under his pillow. Early on the following morn, he sought out his brother Willis and asked him to drive his Model T up to St. Louis and find the vault-door manufacturer and find out what the combination was. Willis declined, suggesting that John send a first class special delivery letter; as postmaster, he sold the stamps to John.

John mailed his letter and went sleepless for four nights waiting for the reply, which said: “Before we can give you this information, you must furnish proof that you are indeed the owner of the bank.” How could he furnish proof? He drew up a petition, which said, “We, the undersigned, citizens of Stay More, county of Newton, state of Arkansas, do solemnly swear that John Ingledew is well known to us as John Ingledew, and is the owner of the Swains Creek Bank and Trust Company.” He took this petition around to everybody he could find; most of them signed it, although many of them could not write and had to sign an “X.” The petition was covered with a great variety of X’s. But he mailed it off, and went sleepless four more nights waiting for the reply, which said: “You will find the combination engraved in small figures in the lower left corner on the reverse of the door.” John thought about that for a while, then fired off another letter. “Goddamn it all to hell, how can I see the reverse of the goddamn door if the door is locked?” He waited another four days for the reply: “Please do not use profanity. If you will furnish us the serial number of your door, we can supply the combination from our files.” John couldn’t find any serial number, and wrote to tell them so. They replied: “The serial number is located in the upper right corner on the reverse of the door.” If John had not gone for so many nights without sleep, he would have lost his temper in the worst way, but he had no temper left to lose. He tried to curse, but it came out, “Ghdfm.”

He wrote another letter. “Dearest Sirs. I sure do hate to keep on bothering you good people like this, and I just know all of you fellers have much more important things to do than waste your time on a dumb old hillbilly like me, but I have to call your attention to the fact that there is no possible way I could send you the serial number of my door if the serial number is on the back side of it and the door is locked. On bended knee I beg of you, good gentlemen, to scratch your heads and think of something else.” He posted this, went home and fell asleep and slept for four days and nights with the money under his pillow and his revolver in his hand. The reply came, enclosing the combination number, which had been located by tracing the shipping invoice number to the list of serial numbers. John ran all the way up Main Street to the bank with his money and tried the combination on the vault door; tumblers clicked, but nothing happened. John noticed that there was a handle on the door, and