ed from the claws of the plutocratic dragon must
be held as a sacred trust; it must be devoted scrupulously to the cause
of the down-trodden and the oppressed. Precisely how it was to be
applied he had not yet determined; but that could be decided later.

Meanwhile, it was very evident that the dragon did not intend to accept
defeat without a struggle, and Griswold set his wits at work upon the
problem of escape.

"It's a little queer that I hadn't thought of that part of it before,"
he mused, sipping his coffee as one who need not hasten until the race
is actually begun. "I suppose the other fellow, the real robber, would
have figured himself safely out of it--or would have thought he
had--before he made the break. Since I did not, I've got it to do now,
and there isn't much time to throw away. Let me see--" he shut his eyes
and went into the inventive trance of the literary craftsman--"the
keynote must be originality; I must do that which the other fellow would
never think of doing."

On the strength of that decision he ventured to order a third cup of
coffee, and before it had cooled he had outlined a plan, basing it upon
a further cross-questioning of the Gascon waiter. The man had been to
the street door again, and by this time the sidewalk excitement had
subsided sufficiently to make room for an approach to the truth. The
story of an armed band surrounding the bank had been a canard. There had
been but one man concerned in the robbery, and the sidewalk gossip was
beginning to describe him with discomforting accuracy.

Griswold paid his score and went out boldly and with studied
nonchalance. He reasoned that, notwithstanding the growing accuracy of
the street report, he was still in no immediate danger so long as he
remained in such close proximity to the bank. It was safe to assume that
this was one of the things the professional "strong-arm man" would not
do. But it was also evident that he must speedily lose his identity if
he hoped to escape; and the lost identity must leave no clew to itself.

Griswold smiled when he remembered how, in fiction of the felon-catching
sort, and in real life, for that matter, the law-breaker always did
leave a clew for the pursuers. Thereupon arose a determination to
demonstrate practically that it was quite as possible to create an
inerrant fugitive as to conceive an infallible detective. Joining the
passers-by on the sidewalk, he made his way leisurely to Canal Street,
and