Again Manuel Gonzale gurgled.
"May their sleep be dreamless," he said. "And should our work of the morning fail, may the name of O'Neill be the first to concern the police."
Wall laughed.
"A good idea," he remarked. He looked at his watch. "Nine-fifteen, The banks ought to be open now."
Gronzale got to his feet Carefully he folded the page that had been lying on his desk.
"The moment for action has come," he said. "Shall we go down to the street?"
"I'm in strange waters," responded Martin Wall uneasily. "The first dip I've ever taken out of my line. Don't believe in it either—a man should have his specialty and stick to it. However, I need the money. Am I letter perfect in my part, I wonder?"
The door of the Mail office opened, and a sly little Cuban with an evil face stepped in.
"Ah, Luypas," Gonzale said, "you are here at last? Do you understand? Your boys they are to be in the next room—yes? You. are to sit near
