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How're we ever going to hold him in?" "Where's your safe-cracker man?" "We've got him right here! Burns is sending over an A. B. P. A. man to take care of him." "D'you mean he's hurt?" "No, no! We've identified him as Missouri Horton of the Scott Gang he got a Sing Sing life sentence for yegg work in Yonkers.
Luckily the window was open to its full height. Presently Terry stood beside Denver and they looked down. The roof of the bank was only some four feet below them, but it was also a full three feet in distance from the side of the house. Terry motioned the yegg back and began to slip through the window.
"Down the tracks," O'Rourke elucidated. "Tramps fightin' with a railroad policeman, I guess. Let's go down." "What's the use?" objected Mr. Hennage. "A yegg never does any damage unless he's right on top of his man. They all carry little short bulldog guns, an' I never did see one o' them little bar pistols that would score a hit at twenty yards after sundown. They carry high."
The proprietor began to talk of less dangerous subjects. Craig succeeded in drawing out from him the yegg recipe for making "soup." "It's here in this cipher," said the man, drawing out a dirty piece of paper. "It's well known, and you can have this. Here's the key. It was written by 'Deafy' Smith, and the police pinched it."
The longer they waited and the more anxious Joe became to meet his twin brother again, the more Slippery denounced Kansas Shorty's tardiness, and when midnight arrived and they heard in the distance to the north of them the rumbling of a train, Slippery had so completely won the confidence of Joe, that the latter consented to accompany the yegg to Chicago without waiting for the arrival of the others, whereupon Slippery tore a page out of his memorandum and after writing on it a brief note, telling Kansas Shorty that he and Joe had rambled into Chicago, and to meet them there, he silenced any rising suspicions Joe might have had that everything was not all right by pinning this note to the trunk of the tree.
"Wonder if that safe is a side-bolt?" he mused. "Most likely. I dare say it's only the average combination. A one-armed yegg could open most of the boxes in this town with a tin button-hook. Anyhow, it would have to be a new-laid lock I couldn't open. If he's left the letters in the safe we're all right so here's hoping he has. I certainly don't want to go to his room unless I have to.
Well, then, I have nothing to do with the man I was when you knew me first. I have disowned him. He's a back number. I am an ordinary English gentleman now. My uncle has left me more than well off. I am a baronet. And is it likely that a baronet with money, mind you is going to carry on the yegg business as a side line? Be reasonable. There's really no possible objection to me now.
A huge pot-bellied stove occupied the centre of the room, and by it stood a box of sawdust plentifully discoloured with tobacco-juice. Three or four of the "guests " there was no "register" in this yeggman's hotel were seated about the stove discussing something in a language that was English, to be sure, but of a variation that only a yegg could understand.
Evidently the yegg was silently communicating imperious instructions, for presently the dealer said, in a voice natural enough: "Nothing happened, Lewison. I just moved my chair; that was all, I figure." "I dunno," growled Lewison. "I been waiting for something to happen for so long that I begin to hear things and suspect things where they ain't nothing at all."
Frink pulled at his eye-glass cord as at a bell-rope, he cleared his throat and said that which was the custom: "I'll tell you, George: I'm a law-abiding man, but they do say Verg Gunch is a regular yegg, and of course he's bigger 'n I am, and I just can't figure out what I'd do if he tried to force me into anything criminal!"
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