Bon Voyage

And now, another tale well calculated to keep you in. Oh, boy, ah, written about the expense by Murray Burnett. I looked at my watch. It was 616 in the Friday evening. I knew I had exactly 17 minutes before Hank Wilson, the night watchman of the bank, would be somewhere near the front door.

I took a quick look around the office, Turn the name plate with said Alec Thompson, faced down on my desk, and close the ledger on the garrison estate for the last time. Then I open the box containing my new sports jacket, took out the jacket, opened the right hand drawer of my desk, and proceeded to fill the box with bundles of crisp, new banknotes

totaling $200,000. I packed them neatly in the box, getting a tremendous surge of satisfaction as each bundle slipped into place. Each bundle represented a neat withdrawal from the garrison estate, which I was handling for the intercity guarantee and trust company.

A withdrawal which would take them a few months to unravel when I didn't return from my two-week vacation. I carefully tied the twine around the suitbox exactly as it had been tied. As I put on the exceptionally loud sports jacket, which the box had contained, I glanced again at my watch, walked over to the closet door, opened it, and looked at myself in the mirror.

I know it was foolish, but I couldn't resist patting myself in the back. The jacket covered my business suit jacket perfectly. No one could see that I was wearing a jacket over a jacket. And then, satisfied that I had left no loose ends, I had closed the closet door.