Abbeville progress. (Abbeville, Vermilion Parish, La.) 1913-1944, 1913-07-12
CHAPTER XXI.
A Bottle Of Wine.


George stood irresolutely upon the
steps. A new keyhole! What the
deuce did the agent mean by putting
new keyhole in the door without
notifying him? AS the caretaker never
entered that door. 1t was all the
agents fault. There was no area-way
in front, but between Georges house
and the next there was a court eight
feet in width, running to the dividing
wall between the bank property and
his own A grille gate protected this
court George had key. The gate
opened readily enough. His intention
was to enter by the basement-door
But he suddenly paused. To his
amazement he saw just below the
library curtain a thin measure of
light. Light! Some one in the house!
He did the most sensible thing pos
sible: he stood still till the shock left
him. Some one In the house, some
one who had no earthly or heavenly
business there! Near the window
stood a tubbed bay-tree. Cautiously
he mounted this. holding the ledge of
the window with his fingers. That
he did not instantly topple over with
great noise was due to the fact
that he was temporarily paralyzed.
Here was the end Of the puzzle. The
riddle Of the United Romance and Ad-
venture Company was solved. At last
he understood why Mrs. Chedsoye
had sought him, why Ryanne had kid
mapped him. But for his continuing
his journey upon the German-Lloyd
boat, he would have come home a
week too late; he would have missed
being a spectator (already an inno-
cent contributor) to one of the most
daring and ingenious bank-robberies
known in the pages of metropolitan
crime. There was Mrs. Chedsoye, in
trusiyely handsome as ever; there
was her rascally card-sharper brother,
that migrate who called himself Ry-
anne, and three unknown men. The
impudence of it; the damnable inso-
Ience Of it! And there they were,
toasting their success in a brace of
his own vintage-champagne! But the
Wine was. after all, inconseQuential. 1t
was what he saw upon the floor that
caught him by the throat. His knees
weakened, but he held on grimly to
his perch.
White bags of gold, soiled bags of
gold, and neat packs Of green and vel
low notes: riches! Twenty bags and
as many packets of currency; a mil
lion, not a penny under that! George
was seized with a horrible desire to
yell with laughter. He felt the each
innations bubble in his throat He
swallowed violently and gnawed his
lips. They had got into his house un-
der false pretenses and had tunneIed
back into the Northumberland
Bank. of which Horace's brother was
president and in which he, George p.
A. Jones, always carried a large pri-
vate balance! 1t was the joke of
the century.
As quietly as he possibly could, he
stepped down from his uncertain
perch. In the fine fury that followed
his amazement, his one thought was
to summon the police at once, to con-
front the wretches in their villainy;
but once outside In the street, he
cooled. Instantly he saw the trial in
court. Fortune as witness against her
own mother. That was horrible and
not to be thought Of. But what could
he do? He was shaken to his soul
The stupendous audacity Of such a
plant To have worked out every de-
tail. down to the altering Of the key