Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1916)

76 The Catspaw hopefully, sighed, and turned in to sleep. But the watchman of the Milville Bank was not asleep. True, he had made his rounds, but somehow he could not bring himself to feel that all was secure. He decided that he had better look over the plant again. He walked back by the window, where something, he never could tell what, moved him to try the bars, one of which came away free in his hand. "There's burglary here," came his first thought, and he immediately bent down and beat a tattoo with his night stick on the walk. Less than half a minute passed before two bluecoats came running. At the sound of the club on the pavement, Kitt dropped his tools on the floor, gathered what packages of bills he could and stuffed them into his inside pocket. His plan of escape was formed instantly. It would be a desperate chance, but he must not be caught. He put on his hat and made for the main entrance. It opened easily from within, and the next moment he had vaulted down the stairs to the street. The policemen were waiting for him, but he was not dismayed in the least. "There's been a robbery here!" he cried. "For God's sake, come with me ! They're in there !" He waved excitedly to the bank door behind him. "Why, it's Mr. St. John!" exclaimed one of the bluecoats ; but Kitt ignored his remark. "I'm a director of this bank. I saw the thieves in the office," he insisted, and turned to allow the officers to precede him into the building. As they went in, he hung back till they had disappeared into the dark lobby. Then he jumped over the railing and disappeared around the corner. At that moment the town clock struck the quarter past one. The next morning, as Sturges was leaving the Paget home, after his morning call, a bluecoat laid a hand on his shoulder. "You are under arrest for the robbery of sixty thousand dollar from the bank last night," came the quiet tones in his ear. "Bank !" repeated Sturges, in surprise. "What bank? There must be some mistake. You want me — Mr. Kittredge St. John?" "Certainly," the officer persisted. "I'm sorry, Mr. St. John, but it's got to be done. I saw you with my own eyes. It's a " "Saw me!" echoed Sturges blankly. "Why, nothing of the kind! This is absurd ! Why " "That's what they all say, sir," replied the bluecoat stubbornly, "but better come along quietly, sir. The judge'll fix it all up." After a few more useless protestations, Sturges went quietly to the station. But the judge did not fix it up. He was sure of the man, for three officers had identified him. He did consent, however, to Sturges' being allowed to summon Yarnum and Major Holbrook to the court. They came in all speed, protesting against this glaring stupidity and indignity. Yarnum fumed and threatened them all with impeachment, while Holbrook, as the town's chief lawyer, insisted that his word be taken. This sounded like logic to the judge, who, though he could not see where the mistake could have come in, still was disposed to treat the accused man fairly. The appearance of the sheriff himself settled it all. "Why, judge," broke out that newcomer, "your prisoner was with the three of us last night, at cards, in the clubhouse. It's impossible that it could be he. Why, he came in with Yarnum about twelve-thirty — I remember looking at my watch to see why they were so late — and he stayed with us all until two-thirty. I remember it was half past