“I can’t guarantee the time,” Tommy retorted. “If I’m questioned it’ll be a good deal longer than ten minutes.”
“It’s twenty-five minutes to three. The bank closes at three; I’ll wait until then.”
They were already passing the Roosevelt Hotel and the Masonic Temple was just beyond, within a block of the bank. Louie slowed down the car and pulled up to the curb.
Tommy got out and Louie made a sharp left turn into Orchid. Tommy took a deep breath and walked toward the bank. As he approached his step faltered.
Fred Kraft, the private detective, was standing at the corner of the building. His face was cheerful and alert and he peered in Tommy’s direction, and past him, as if to see if a streetcar was approaching.
Tommy entered the bank. A uniformed policeman was in the rear, talking to a bank guard. Inside the enclosure, near the left front of the room, two men had chairs pulled up to the bank manager’s desk and were conversing earnestly with him.
Tommy walked steadily to the Safety Deposit Window. The attendant stared at him and Tommy gritted his teeth. As he filled out the little blank he was aware that she breathed more heavily than necessary. He showed the pad of blanks to her and she tore off his slip, looked at it and said:
“Just a moment, please.”
She walked through the rear door in her cage, along a narrow passageway to the front of the bank, where the bank officers were in conference. Every instinct told Tommy to run as fast as he could, to ignore shouts. But he held his ground.
And then the attendant came back. She was followed by two men. “Will you come in, please?” She pressed the door buzzer and Tommy entered. He headed for the bank vault, but halfway to it stopped and looked back. The two men almost collided with him.
“Mr. Dancer,” one of them said, “I’d like to have a few words with you.”
“Go ahead,” Tommy said boldly.
The man smiled wanly and nodded toward the bank vault. Tommy stepped through the door. A hatchet-faced man of about fifty who was standing in the vault sized him up sharply.
“Mr. Dancer,” said the man who had accosted Tommy, “my name is Benedict and I’m the manager of this bank.”
“Oh, yes?”
“This is Mr. Milner,” Benedict went on, indicating the hatchet-faced man, “and Mr. Plennert. There’s, ah, been, a bit of trouble and we, ah, would like—”
The man named Plennert interrupted smoothly. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Benedict...”
Benedict exclaimed, “Of course, Mr. Plennert!”
“To put it bluntly,” Plennert said, “there’s been a robbery—”
“That’s why I’m here,” Tommy said coolly.
“What?”
“I’m getting my things out of my box. If one box’s been robbed, another can be.”
“Who told you a safety deposit box has been robbed?” Plennert demanded.
“I’ve got a radio,” Tommy said pointedly.
Plennert seemed disappointed. “We didn’t want it to get out, but unfortunately” — Plennert frowned at the bank manager — “Mr. Benedict inadvertently told the police.”
“What else was I to do?” exclaimed Benedict. “
“I heard him.”
“After he’d cooled off.”
The vault custodian came into the little room and handed Plennert several slips. He looked at them and his eyes lit up. “Mr. Dancer,” he said, “you rented your box on Tuesday of this week, did you not?”
“That’s what it says on the slip, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m unrenting it now. If a man’s safety deposit box isn’t sate...”
Tommy took his keys from his pocket and inserted one of them into the lower lock of Box No. 365. He looked over his shoulder at the vault attendant. “Your key...”
Plennert stepped forward. “Just a moment, Mr. Dancer, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
“I’ve a right to get the stuff out of my box,” Tommy protested.
“Of course you have. It isn’t that.” Plennert frowned down at the slips in his hand. “It’s just that, well, you rented the box on Tuesday, you examined it again the same day—”
“No,” Tommy cut in, “I put some things into it and a couple more times since.” He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, I put some money only this morning... before I heard about the robbery.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. The number of times you’ve come in here, well in such a short period.”
“I didn’t know there were any rules as to how often you could open your box,” Tommy said.
“There aren’t. Only, well, don’t you see there’s been a... robbery and...”
Tommy exclaimed in assumed astonishment. “You mean you suspect
“No, no,” Plennert said hastily. “It’s only that... we’re investigating everyone who... well, everyone.”
He grimaced and suddenly gestured to the bank attendant. “Miss Ungerman, your key.”
Miss Ungerman started to hand the key to Plennert, then caught herself and looked questioningly at Benedict, the manager of the bank. He nodded.
Plennert took the key from Miss Ungerman’s hand, moved up beside Tommy and inserted it in the top lock of the box. He turned it.
