J. Thorne - The Black Mask Magazine (Vol. 1, No. 5 - August 1920)

But, fearing the possibility of heart disease afflicting the guardian, who probably was standing no more than three inches above their heads, and for reasons not unconnected with their own safety should that extra vigilant watchman suddenly see their heads above the floor level of the vault, they reluctantly postponed making the spectacular entrance into those sacred and supposedly safe precincts that would have been at once so easy and, to say the least, unexpected.

Two very tired and extremely dirty but almost hilariously elated fishermen tied up their boat in its appointed place some time after midnight and disappeared in the direction of the Alaska Club's Turkish baths. In these saponaceous quarters, as moist as those they recently had left, but gratefully clean, they luxuriated for a good part of the night.

When U. P. Snedeker, president of the Totem National Bank, arrived at that institution shortly before ten o'clock the morning of the tenth day after the robbery he was in a very bad humor.

The board of directors, as well as several gentlemen who were powers in the financial world and coincidently in the affairs of the Totem National, had seen fit, the day before, to treat him, U. P. Snedeker, as he often was in the habit of treating lesser employees of that bank.

In a word, he had been "called upon the carpet" — the carpet of his own comfortable and handsomely furnished office, to speak literally as well as figuratively — and there also "called down." He had been spoken to in very plain, rude words, words that were not minced and that hurt his self-love and pride, pointed words that also seriously threatened to affect his almost equal love of pelf and position.

He, Snedeker, U. P. Snedeker, president and autocrat of his little realm, who daily was accustomed to making his power and personality felt by all with whom he came in contact in the bank or out, had been told in almost the same tone and terms he would have used to a mere bookkeeper that one more chance would be given for him to make good. Making good, in this case, signified the recovery of the lost million of the bank's most liquid assets, a loss, it was intimated more directly than diplomatically, which was due to his, Snedeker's, failure to foresee and provide adequate safeguards of the funds intrusted to him as the controlling official of the bank.

If he failed to restore — "restore" was the word they used — the funds within the additional time allotted to him by the aforesaid powers his resignation would be accepted — without regrets. Not only without regrets, but, it was intimated, with the possibility of civil or criminal action. They handed it to him good, with no more regard for his feelings or the facts than he himself would have shown.

So, as has been said, U. P. Snedeker was in a very bad humor. He barked at the doorman, snapped at the receiving teller and almost bit Daniels.

It was into this surcharged atmosphere, this mental and temperamental curtain of fire — and brimstone — that Jim Carranaugh entered a few minutes later. A very blithe and cocky Carranaugh, radiating peace on earth and good-will toward all men, including even burglars and bank presidents, one may almost say particularly toward burglars and bank presidents, since it was to the happy combination of gentlemen pursuing these more or less diverse activities that Carranaugh owed his present high spirits.

Nor were these spirits in the least ironed out or even dampened by the scowl of the doorman, the snarl of the receiving teller or the snap of Daniels. No, not even by the excellent imitation of a savage and surly dog given by Snedeker. The Honorable James J. was above and beyond the reach of all such petty irritations, human or canine.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Snedeker!"

Grunt.

"I've a bit of news for you."

Growl.

"You remember I promised to report progress this morning."

Grumble.

"But first I want to have a little understanding with you."

The substance of Snedeker's response, divested of its accompanying verbal adornment, was to the effect that Carranaugh certainly would come to an understanding that would leave no room for doubt about the bank president's opinion of all detectives in general and Carranaugh in particular.

When the cyclone had passed, Carranaugh, unruffled by so much as a single hair, continued:

"About that fifty thousand reward."

It is too bad that Snedeker's language at this part of the dialogue cannot be reported verbatim, but the rules of public print forbid. If beauty consists of artistic expression, then Snedeker's remarks were beautiful, however indecently nude. But beyond a smile of appreciation for successful effort, Carranaugh continued to be unimpressed, and unmoved from his line of thought and conversation.

"Will you pay it upon return of the money and securities, or must delivery be made of the thieves as well?"

Snedeker, with a banker's sense of the all-important when actual cash is the subject under discussion, immediately stopped wasting perfectly good words and countered:

"Have you found them?"

"The money or the thieves?"

"Both — either?"

"I think I have."

"Think! Think!' I'm not paying you to think! I'm paying you to know!"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Snedeker. but you're not paying for either — yet. You are only promising to do so. And it is what that promise covers, or demands, that I want to know."

"Did I say 'fifty' thousand, Carranaugh? Wasn't 'five' the sum I mentioned? Seems to me, as far as I can remember—"

"You'll have to remember a good deal farther than that, Mr. Snedeker, if you want me to recover that million for you! If you are trying to crawfish because you think maybe I have succeeded where all the others failed, if you are trying to Jew me down because you think I'll be lucky, and glad, to get even five — anything you choose to pay — well, all I have to say is that you have another think coming! If that's the way you feel about it I'll say good morning and you can go to—"

"Tut, tut, Mr. Carranaugh, don't allow yourself to get so excited and jump at unwarranted conclusions. Maybe it was fifty thousand, I said. Maybe it was."

"No 'maybe' about it! Is it fifty?"

"Have you got them?"

"That depends, as I said before."

"Don't fence with me, man! This is serious. Very serious. Much more serious than you can imagine."

"I'm not fencing with you. I am trying to do business. Fifty thousand dollars' worth of business to me — a million dollars' worth to you. And if you'll kindly cut out the cuss words and the condescension, drop the rough stuff and talk like a gentleman as well as a banker, maybe we can do that business."

"What the devil do you mean? You impudent—"

"Oh, very well!" said Carranaugh, rising to his feet and picking up his hat. "If you are going to start that again I'll be on my way and see if Peter B. Far—"

One syllable of that "power's" name was enough, under the recent circumstances and Carranaugh's implied intent, to bring Snedeker to at least an outward semblance of politeness.

"Sit down, Mr. Carranaugh, sit down. I didn't mean to be hasty — but you don't know the load of responsibility I am carrying, what a strain I've been under the past ten days. Sit down and tell me all about what you think you have discovered and I'll try to restrain my natural impatience. Between my anxiety and the everlasting promises of 'tomorrow' of the score or more men I've had working on this case, you should not blame me for being sick of your tribe — I mean of your incompetent competitors."

"That's all right, Mr. Snedeker. I understand. Only don't class me with them or try to talk to me as you may to them. I'm apt to be fussy when I'm sworn at. And now, if you will answer my question, I will answer yours."