Criminals -- Fiction; Railroad station managers -- Fiction; Short stories
The last operation, he realized, would demand great care, as he must
thrust his hands in from opposite directions until wrist overlapped
wrist. If it would work he would dismiss the matter and resume the
pleasing visions of spending the money.
The morning’s paper contained a glaring account of a daring yegg
robbery at the Centerville station. The agent had been trussed up and
some fifteen hundred dollars taken.
“Those guys certainly got the nerve,” commented the newsboy as the
agent was reading the item. “Didn’t even gag Roberts. Just corded him
up like a bale of hay, copped his roll and beat it. Roberts is so
scared he’s working his notice.”
That afternoon Parsly was curious to examine all baggage fastened
with ropes. Several parcels of sample dowels, sent by express from
the up-country mill, held his attention the closest. They were tied
with new rope and the dove-hitch held tightly, even when he worked an
end loose. Just before he closed up for supper the branch train
brought in a hundred-odd dollars, but the agent confidentially
assured:
“Tomorrer’ll be a record breaker. Two parties I know of are going to
send down a thousand per. Together with the other money you’ll have
close to three thousand bones to nurse over night. The danged company
ought to put a safe in your office.”
Off duty for the night, he hastened to his room where the supreme
test awaited him. If he succeeded there was nothing to prevent a man
from robbing himself and leaving no clues. When from the open door he
could catch the sound of his landlord’s heavy, regular breathing, he
removed his shoes, seated himself on the edge of the bed, and began
experimenting with the cord.
He fastened the noose about his neck and stood up and noted where the
rope in a direct line touched the floor. Then seating himself he tied
it tightly about his ankles and brought the loose end up to and
around his waist. There was scarcely any slack when he straightened
out his legs. At first he feared he had drawn the cord too tight and,
anxiously turning on his face, threw back his head and heels.
With a thrill of elation he found the slack would enable him, by an
effort, to form the hitch. After a moment’s fumbling he succeeded,
and even wriggled his hands through the loops until the tips of the
fingers rested on the upper forearm. It wearied him, and with a sigh
of physical relief he extended his legs.
In an instant his tongue felt too large for his mouth, and with a
gasp of horror he decided he was choking to death. He did not lose
his nerve as he remembered the remedy, and he drew back his legs. But
although this gave a bit of slack to the rope he could not induce the
hitch to loosen. From the satisfaction of having proven his theory he
quickly glided into the fear that he had calculated too nicely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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