Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1894-01-05
ROBBING A LAWYER.

"I'1l be quits with you afore long, :"
said the prisoner to the solicitor for the
prosecution as he turned to descend to
the cells.
For Joe Renshaw felt hurt. That
particular solicitor, Benjamin Timpany
Joe made note of the name and reg
istered a resolution not to forget it
had conducted his case with zeal that
seemed to border on animus, otherwise
Mr.. Renshaw's explanation as to his
presence on inclosed premises at mid
night might have been accepted.
Mr.. Timpany heard the words. He
saw the glance that accompanied them.
It was not a reassuring glance. If one
met it by the light of bullseye at mid
night-ugh! Mr. Timpany shuddered.
''CIeverest craftsman going, Joe!''
said the sergeant in tone almost of
admiration. Electric bells and all
that sort of thing don't bother him a
bit. He can get through an iron shut
ter as if it was brown paper. -
Mr.. Timpany's state of mind became
less complacent than ever. He had done
his duty to his client in insuring this
desperado's conviction, but he began to
wonder whether a man could not do his
duty too well.
He began to think how exposed his
house was, how low the back garden
wall, how close the balconies to the
ground, how rusty the front door chain
and how insecure the window fasten-
ings. There was, however, one conso-
lation-he had six month s start of Mr..
Renshaw.
Mr.. Timpany's politeness to the po-
iceman whose beat embraced his house
and who had once been seen kissing his
housemaid was surprising, having re-
gard to the indignation he had evinced
when some time previously he had been
informed of the housemaid incident.
The six months of his incarceration
did not speed quite so quickly for Joe
Renshaw as for Mr.. Timpany.
Joe was averse to labor of any kind,
more especially to the hard variety.
He had, however, ample time and OPP
portunity for meditation on what he con-
sidered the vindictive wickedness of
Mr.. Timpany and the means for its re-
quital.
Artist as he was in his own line, in
the operation contemplated he meant to
excel himself, He would not hurry
over it; he would bide his time. Every
thing comes, he reflected, to the man
who waits. He would Walton Tim
pany.
| At last came the hour when he step
ped forth a free man-anyWay for a
time. He began to look about for &C.
cupation, not work. He had had six
months at that, and if he had cared for
honest work outside prison walls it
would have been difficult to find.
One, two, three months since the ex-
piration of Renshaw's sentence had ex-
pired, and Mr.. Timpany began to i'm
agine that he had forgotten his promise
and to sleep soundly of nights. He even
ventured occasionally to bring home
valuable documents of title and secu-
rites in his black bag and to once more
believe in the truth Of the adage that
an Englishman's house is his castle.
But one night while Mr.. Timpany
was wrapped in gentle sleep and his
pajamas a thin streak OF white light
glimmered for an instant along his back
garden. Bendigo, who slept with one
eye open, fancied he caught glimpse
of something that ought not to be there
and emitted deep, warning growl.
Much to his surprise, as if by magic,
a savory piece of horsefesh, just stuff
GENTLY underdone to suit the palate OF
SO dainty a canine epicure, fell within
a yard of his nose.
With the snorting growl that was his
usual expression Of delight, the bulldog
rose and shifted it. Then he licked it.,
and it tasted even more savory than it
smelled.
Bendigo bolted it, and seeing no NOR
sells lying about turned to regain his
kennel, but ere he could reach it his
limbs stiffened, and he rolled over with
out groan-stone dead.
A few minutes later marvellous cen
terbit was running its way silently but
surely through Mr.. Timpany's iron
shutters.
Before long the shutter had been
quietly pushed open, replaced, and Joe
Renshaw was seated i'll the breakfast
room, around which his bullseye fash
was moving.
The disk of light rested moment on
a small cabinet, the lock of which Mr..
Renshaw leisurely proceeded to neatly
pick.
"Tradesmen's bills, he grunted, all
receipted. Wot spendthrift the chap
must be THROWN away his money in
payin accounts! Some folks never knows
the wally O. money. He earns his cas-
ier than does"
Then, his list shoes making not the
slightest sound, he crept into a room
which served Mr.. Timpany for kind
of home Office.
This is better" chuckled the bur-
glar, espying a safe in the corner, and
| once again the centerbit was called into
operation. But it was tough job, and
| file and crowbar had to be brought into
play, and Mr.. Renshaw's brow was
moist before the door showed the slight
est signs of yielding.
IF l had the man as made this here, -
he growled. ';he'd never make no more.
The idea O. folks 'avin awkward furni-
ture like this in their 'ouses! It's only
| ouL OF aSgote4t..tio--
essary trouble over their work. -
But at last the hinges gave way t.
the brutal but silent attacks of tn
Jimmy where the file had bitten ant
gnawed, and Joe, quickly forcing the
inner drawers, turned his bullseye on
the contents.
"Well!' he said, and then he swore.
carter all, nothin but pile O. dirty
parchment not worth a CROWN" and
he angrily turned over the bundles Of
deeds which represented tens of thou
sands Of pounds.
But as the last drawer slid open a
chuckle escaped him. There lay bun
die Of crisp Bank of England notes,
which MI. Timpany had received on
the completion of a conveyancing mat
ter after Office hours, on behalf Of his
client, too late to pay into the bank.
Stuffing the notes into his pocket, he
gathered up his tools and prepared to
depart. To his great joy, he saw upon
the table bottle of port wine and q
lumber.
sfOh ain;t 20 k;rdD ba co1ilonrizod