Within the Law [54]
interest.
"No," Griggs replied. "You naturally wouldn't, for the simple reason that it's been kept on the dead quiet."
"Are them things really worth that much?" Garson exclaimed.
"Sometimes more," Mary answered. "Morgan has a set of Gothic tapestries worth half a million dollars."
Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust.
"He pays half a million dollars for a set of rugs!" There was a note of fiercest bitterness come into his voice as he sarcastically concluded: "And they wonder at crime!"
Griggs went on with his account.
"About a month ago, the things I was telling you of were hung in the library of a millionaire in this city." He hitched his chair a little closer to the desk, and leaned forward, lowering his voice almost to a whisper as he stated his plan.
"Let's go after them. They were smuggled, mind you, and no matter what happens, he can't squeal. What do you say?"
Garson shot a piercing glance at Mary.
"It's up to her," he said. Griggs regarded Mary eagerly, as she sat with eyes downcast. Then, after a little interval had elapsed in silence, he spoke interrogatively:
"Well?"
Mary shook her head decisively. "It's out of our line," she declared.
Griggs would have argued the matter. "I don't see any easier way to get half a million," he said aggressively.
Mary, however, was unimpressed.
"If it were fifty millions, it would make no difference. It's against the law."
"Oh, I know all that, of course," Griggs returned impatiently. "But if you can----"
Mary interrupted him in a tone of finality.
"My friends and I never do anything that's illegal! Thank you for coming to us, Mr. Griggs, but we can't go in, and there's an end of the matter."
"But wait a minute," English Eddie expostulated, "you see this chap, Gilder, is----"
Mary's manner changed from indifference to sudden keen interest.
"Gilder?" she exclaimed, questioningly.
"Yes. You know who he is," Griggs answered; "the drygoods man."
Garson in his turn showed a new excitement as he bent toward Mary.
"Why, it's old Gilder, the man you----"
Mary, however, had regained her self-control, for a moment rudely shaken, and now her voice was tranquil again as she replied:
"I know. But, just the same, it's illegal, and I won't touch it. That's all there is to it."
Griggs was dismayed.
"But half a million!" he exclaimed, disconsolately. "There's a stake worth playing for. Think of it!" He turned pleadingly to Garson. "Half a million, Joe!"
The forger repeated the words with an inflection that was gloating.
"Half a million!"
"And it's the softest thing you ever saw."
The telephone at the desk rang, and Mary spoke into it for a moment, then rose and excused herself to resume the conversation over the wire more privately in the booth. The instant she was out of the room, Griggs turned to Garson anxiously.
"It's a cinch, Joe," he pleaded. "I've got a plan of the house." He drew a paper from his breast-pocket, and handed it to the forger, who seized it avidly and studied it with intent, avaricious eyes.
"It looks easy," Garson agreed, as he gave back the paper.
"It is easy," Griggs reiterated. "What do you say?"
Garson shook his head in refusal, but there was no conviction in the act.
"I promised Mary never to----"
Griggs broke in on him.
"But a chance like this! Anyhow, come around to the back room at Blinkey's to-night, and we'll have a talk. Will you?"
"What time?" Garson asked hesitatingly, tempted.
"Make it early, say nine," was the answer. "Will you?"
"I'll come," Garson replied, half-guiltily. And in the same moment Mary reentered.
Griggs rose and spoke with an air of regret.
"It's 'follow the leader,' " he said, "and since you are against it, that settles it."
"Yes, I'm against it," Mary said, firmly.
"I'm sorry," English Eddie rejoined. "But we must all play the game as we see it.... Well, that was the business I was after, and, as it's finished, why, good-afternoon, Miss Turner." He nodded toward Joe, and
"No," Griggs replied. "You naturally wouldn't, for the simple reason that it's been kept on the dead quiet."
"Are them things really worth that much?" Garson exclaimed.
"Sometimes more," Mary answered. "Morgan has a set of Gothic tapestries worth half a million dollars."
Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust.
"He pays half a million dollars for a set of rugs!" There was a note of fiercest bitterness come into his voice as he sarcastically concluded: "And they wonder at crime!"
Griggs went on with his account.
"About a month ago, the things I was telling you of were hung in the library of a millionaire in this city." He hitched his chair a little closer to the desk, and leaned forward, lowering his voice almost to a whisper as he stated his plan.
"Let's go after them. They were smuggled, mind you, and no matter what happens, he can't squeal. What do you say?"
Garson shot a piercing glance at Mary.
"It's up to her," he said. Griggs regarded Mary eagerly, as she sat with eyes downcast. Then, after a little interval had elapsed in silence, he spoke interrogatively:
"Well?"
Mary shook her head decisively. "It's out of our line," she declared.
Griggs would have argued the matter. "I don't see any easier way to get half a million," he said aggressively.
Mary, however, was unimpressed.
"If it were fifty millions, it would make no difference. It's against the law."
"Oh, I know all that, of course," Griggs returned impatiently. "But if you can----"
Mary interrupted him in a tone of finality.
"My friends and I never do anything that's illegal! Thank you for coming to us, Mr. Griggs, but we can't go in, and there's an end of the matter."
"But wait a minute," English Eddie expostulated, "you see this chap, Gilder, is----"
Mary's manner changed from indifference to sudden keen interest.
"Gilder?" she exclaimed, questioningly.
"Yes. You know who he is," Griggs answered; "the drygoods man."
Garson in his turn showed a new excitement as he bent toward Mary.
"Why, it's old Gilder, the man you----"
Mary, however, had regained her self-control, for a moment rudely shaken, and now her voice was tranquil again as she replied:
"I know. But, just the same, it's illegal, and I won't touch it. That's all there is to it."
Griggs was dismayed.
"But half a million!" he exclaimed, disconsolately. "There's a stake worth playing for. Think of it!" He turned pleadingly to Garson. "Half a million, Joe!"
The forger repeated the words with an inflection that was gloating.
"Half a million!"
"And it's the softest thing you ever saw."
The telephone at the desk rang, and Mary spoke into it for a moment, then rose and excused herself to resume the conversation over the wire more privately in the booth. The instant she was out of the room, Griggs turned to Garson anxiously.
"It's a cinch, Joe," he pleaded. "I've got a plan of the house." He drew a paper from his breast-pocket, and handed it to the forger, who seized it avidly and studied it with intent, avaricious eyes.
"It looks easy," Garson agreed, as he gave back the paper.
"It is easy," Griggs reiterated. "What do you say?"
Garson shook his head in refusal, but there was no conviction in the act.
"I promised Mary never to----"
Griggs broke in on him.
"But a chance like this! Anyhow, come around to the back room at Blinkey's to-night, and we'll have a talk. Will you?"
"What time?" Garson asked hesitatingly, tempted.
"Make it early, say nine," was the answer. "Will you?"
"I'll come," Garson replied, half-guiltily. And in the same moment Mary reentered.
Griggs rose and spoke with an air of regret.
"It's 'follow the leader,' " he said, "and since you are against it, that settles it."
"Yes, I'm against it," Mary said, firmly.
"I'm sorry," English Eddie rejoined. "But we must all play the game as we see it.... Well, that was the business I was after, and, as it's finished, why, good-afternoon, Miss Turner." He nodded toward Joe, and