The Wrong House - fairyage

THE WRONG HOUSE

Two men ran quietly towards the house. One of them carried a small suitcase. When they reached the porch, they stopped and listened. The night was dark and silent.

One of the men took out a bunch of keys. They entered. They examined the room by the light of the torch.

It was a large living room. The furniture was covered. Dust lay ever everything.

One of the men spoke. "Well, Blackie,' he said, 'looks as if the family is away on holiday.' They searched the house. There was no doubt. The family was away.

Hasty Hogan and Blackie Burns were in luck. Only once, in the past ten dags, had their luck failed them. It had been soon after they made their big robbery in that town on the coast. Blackie, who had been driving the car, ran over a policeman. They had abandoned the car and run for their lives.

And now they were here, in a strange town, without a car. But they had the suitcase - and the three hundred thousand dollars in it.

"We have to get a car", said Hogan. "We can't steal one. It's too dangerous. We have to buy one."

'But what are we going to do with the suitcase?' said Burns.

'Hide it right here until we get a car.'

And so they hid the suitcase. They carried it down to the coal cellar and buried it in the pile of coal.

Just before dawn, they stepped out. 'Say, Blackie, 'Hogan remarked, 'the name of the gentleman we're visiting is Mr Samuel W. Rogers.'

Shortly after the automobile showroom opened, Hogan and Burns had their car.

They stopped the car a short distance from the house. Hogan got out and walked towards the house.

Fifty yards from the house he stopped. The windows were open. The family had returned!

Hogan thought quickly.

'Quick,'he said to Burns. 'Let's find a telephone.'

Ten minutes later, Hogan was consulting a telephone directory. Yes, there it was-Samuel W.Rogers, Plainview 6329.

A moment later he was talking to Mr Rogers.

'Hello, is this Mr Rogers-Mr Samuel Rogers?

'Yes, this is Mr Rogers.'

Hogan cleared his throat. 'Mr Rogers, 'he said in a sharp, official tone. 'This is Police Headquarters. I am Simpson. Sergeant Simpson, of the detective division...?

'Yes, yes!' came the reply.

'The Chief-the Chief of Police, you know, 'Hogan said, 'has ordered me to get in touch with you. He's sending me out with one of our men to see you.'

'Am I in trouble of some kind?' asked Mr Rogers.

'No, no. Nothing like that. But I have something of importance to talk to you about.'

'Very well', said Mr Rogers.

'And, Mr Rogers,' Mr Hogan cautioned, 'please keep quiet about this. Don't say anything to anybody.'

Hogan explained his idea to Burns. Within ten minutes 'Sergeant Simson' and 'Detective Johnson' were speaking to Mr Rogers. Mr Rogers was a small man. He was nervous-a badly frightened man.

Hogan told Mr Rogers the whole story. Mr Rogers was delighted to be of help. Together, he and Hogan dug up the suitcase. They took it to the living room and opened it. All the money was there - safe.

'And now, Mr Rogers,'Hogan announced, in his best official manner, 'Johnson and I must run along. The Chief wants a reports. We have to catch the rest of the robbers. I'll be in touch.'

He picked up the suitcase and rose. Burns Rose. Mr Rogers also rose. The three men walked to the door. Mr Rogers opened it. 'Come on in, boys,' he said pleasantly-and in walked three men. Men in police uniform.

'What does this mean, Mr Rogers?' asked Hogan.

'It's quite simple,' said Mr Rogers. 'It just happens that I am the Chief of Police.'

here...feeling's...the original contents by www.sensualityface.com or www.fairyage.com / describe with the help of James N. Young