I have your pistol, you
know."
The man placed the bags inside the kitchen door; and, with a doubtful
look at his custodian, stepped out into the street, and walked, as he
was directed to do, toward the Grand Central station. Van Bibber kept
just behind him, and kept turning the question over in his mind as to
what he ought to do. He felt very guilty as he passed each policeman,
but he recovered himself when he thought of the wife and child who
lived in the West, and who were "straight."
"Where to?" asked Van Bibber, as he stood at the ticket-office window.
"Helena, Montana," answered the man with, for the first time, a look
of relief. Van Bibber bought the ticket and handed it to the burglar.
"I suppose you know," he said, "that you can sell that at a place down
town for half the money." "Yes, I know that," said the burglar. There
was a half-hour before the train left, and Van Bibber took his charge
into the restaurant and watched him eat everything placed before him,
with his eyes glancing all the while to the right or left. Then Van
Bibber gave him some money and told him to write to him, and shook
hands with him. The man nodded eagerly and pulled off his hat as the
car drew out of the station; and Van Bibber came down town again with
the shop girls and clerks going to work, still wondering if he had
done the right thing.
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