A CRAFTY ROBBERY.


"Mr. Venner, sir?"

"Mr. Venner--yes, certainly. You will find him in his private
office--that way, sir. The door to the right. Venner is in his private
office, Joseph, is he not?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Garside, unless he has just returned. I saw him
go out some time ago."

"Is that so? Wait a moment, young man."

The young man halted, and then turned back to face Mr. Garside, with an
inquiring look in his frank, brown eyes.

"Not here, sir, do I understand?" he asked, politely.

Mr. Garside shook his head. He was a tall, slender man of forty, and was
the junior partner of the firm of Rufus Venner & Co., a large retail
jewelry house in New York City, with a handsome store on Fifth Avenue,
not far from Madison Square.

It was in their store that this introductory scene occurred, and proved
to be the initiatory step of one of the shrewdest and most cleverly
executed robberies on record.

It was about eleven o'clock one April morning. The sun was shining
brightly outside, and at the curbing in front of the store were several