More Adventures Of The Great Brain by John D. Fitzgerald Page A
Authors: John D. Fitzgerald
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remarried and didn’t have any children.
Nobody in Adenville locked their doors at night so it was no trick for the robbers to enter the house. They sneaked into the banker’s bedroom and woke Mr. Whitlock. They were wearing long yellow rain slickers, had their hats pulled way down on their heads so he couldn’t see their hair, and were wearing masks made from red bandana handkerchiefs with holes cut in them so they could see. One of them put a pistol to Mr. Whitlock’s head and motioned for him to get out of bed and get dressed. Without speaking a word they marched the banker to the Adenville Bank and made him open the door with his key. Using sign language the robber with the pistol gave Mr. Whitlock the choice of opening the safe or having his brains blown out. Mr. Whitlock decided his life was worth more than the money and opened the safe. The robbers tied him to a chair and put a gag in his mouth. Then they put the money from the safe into an old leather valise and left.
Nobody knew what had happened until Mrs. Hazzleton went to call Mr. Whitlock for breakfast and found the banker’s bedroom empty. She telephoned Uncle Mark, who got Frank Collopy, who worked in the bank, to open the front door of the bank. They found Mr. Whitlock still tied to the chair.
“If the robbery isn’t solved,” Papa said as he finished telling us about it at lunch, “the depositors at the bank will lose their money.”
I ran to the Marshal’s office after lunch and found Uncle Mark studying wanted posters. I showed him my press card in case he’d forgotten I was a genuine reporter.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Uncle Mark looked plenty worried. “I thought I might get a lead from some of these wanted posters,” he said. “But I can’t find a single wanted man who ever pulled off a bank robbery like this one at night.”
There was one thing I really liked about Uncle Mark. He never talked down to Tom and me, but treated us just like grownups.
“Maybe they left town right after the robbery,” I said, trying to be helpful.
“I wish they had,” Uncle Mark said. “That would give me a lead. Horses make tracks. And if they had left town they would have headed for the Nevada line taking the shortcut over the Frisco mountains . But I rode out and checked this morning. There are no fresh tracks turning off the road toward the Nevada line. And I checked out all the drifters and strangers who were in town yesterday. They are all still here.”
“If nobody can identify them how can you catch them?” I asked.
“Stolen money always burns a hole in a robber’s pocket,” Uncle Mark said. “I don’t want Tom printing this in his newspaper but I’ll just wait until one of them starts spending a lot of money in the saloons drinking and gambling.”
“What if they don’t?” I asked, trying to be helpful.
“Then I’ll just keep an eye on any strangers or drifters who leave town suddenly and get a posse and track them down,” Uncle Mark answered.
When I returned home, I found Tom at his desk in the barn. I told him what Uncle Mark had said.
“Uncle Mark is a good peace officer,” Tom said, “but he isn’t using his head. These robbers are too slick to start spending a lot of money in town and too smart to leave town until things cool off so no suspicion will be attached to them. And I don’t believe the robbery was pulled by any drifters or strangers in town.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because the robbers took too much care in making sure they couldn’t be identified,” Tom said. “They didn’t even speak, which means one of them or maybe both were afraid Mr. Whitlock would recognize their voice.”
“Well, they sure aren’t Mormons,” I said, “because Mormons don’t go around robbing banks. And they sure don’t live on this side of town because everybody living west of the
Nobody in Adenville locked their doors at night so it was no trick for the robbers to enter the house. They sneaked into the banker’s bedroom and woke Mr. Whitlock. They were wearing long yellow rain slickers, had their hats pulled way down on their heads so he couldn’t see their hair, and were wearing masks made from red bandana handkerchiefs with holes cut in them so they could see. One of them put a pistol to Mr. Whitlock’s head and motioned for him to get out of bed and get dressed. Without speaking a word they marched the banker to the Adenville Bank and made him open the door with his key. Using sign language the robber with the pistol gave Mr. Whitlock the choice of opening the safe or having his brains blown out. Mr. Whitlock decided his life was worth more than the money and opened the safe. The robbers tied him to a chair and put a gag in his mouth. Then they put the money from the safe into an old leather valise and left.
Nobody knew what had happened until Mrs. Hazzleton went to call Mr. Whitlock for breakfast and found the banker’s bedroom empty. She telephoned Uncle Mark, who got Frank Collopy, who worked in the bank, to open the front door of the bank. They found Mr. Whitlock still tied to the chair.
“If the robbery isn’t solved,” Papa said as he finished telling us about it at lunch, “the depositors at the bank will lose their money.”
I ran to the Marshal’s office after lunch and found Uncle Mark studying wanted posters. I showed him my press card in case he’d forgotten I was a genuine reporter.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Uncle Mark looked plenty worried. “I thought I might get a lead from some of these wanted posters,” he said. “But I can’t find a single wanted man who ever pulled off a bank robbery like this one at night.”
There was one thing I really liked about Uncle Mark. He never talked down to Tom and me, but treated us just like grownups.
“Maybe they left town right after the robbery,” I said, trying to be helpful.
“I wish they had,” Uncle Mark said. “That would give me a lead. Horses make tracks. And if they had left town they would have headed for the Nevada line taking the shortcut over the Frisco mountains . But I rode out and checked this morning. There are no fresh tracks turning off the road toward the Nevada line. And I checked out all the drifters and strangers who were in town yesterday. They are all still here.”
“If nobody can identify them how can you catch them?” I asked.
“Stolen money always burns a hole in a robber’s pocket,” Uncle Mark said. “I don’t want Tom printing this in his newspaper but I’ll just wait until one of them starts spending a lot of money in the saloons drinking and gambling.”
“What if they don’t?” I asked, trying to be helpful.
“Then I’ll just keep an eye on any strangers or drifters who leave town suddenly and get a posse and track them down,” Uncle Mark answered.
When I returned home, I found Tom at his desk in the barn. I told him what Uncle Mark had said.
“Uncle Mark is a good peace officer,” Tom said, “but he isn’t using his head. These robbers are too slick to start spending a lot of money in town and too smart to leave town until things cool off so no suspicion will be attached to them. And I don’t believe the robbery was pulled by any drifters or strangers in town.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because the robbers took too much care in making sure they couldn’t be identified,” Tom said. “They didn’t even speak, which means one of them or maybe both were afraid Mr. Whitlock would recognize their voice.”
“Well, they sure aren’t Mormons,” I said, “because Mormons don’t go around robbing banks. And they sure don’t live on this side of town because everybody living west of the
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