The legless man was not in the habit of waiting for things that he
wanted, when the chance to take them had come. And he did not propose to
endure the torture of sitting perfectly still hour after hour, morning
after morning, while any young woman made a bust of him. Yet he allowed
a number of mornings to pass without taking any definite steps toward
the vengeance which he felt to be so dear to him.
That Barbara was a high-born lady was the chief obstacle in his plans.
If she were to disappear suddenly out of the world which knew and loved
her, there would be raised a hue and outcry greater, perhaps, than his
utmost powers and resources could check. He would be run to earth
without much doubt and put where even the sweet memory of vengeance
would taste bitter in his mouth. It is perhaps pleasant to pluck the
fruits of vengeance, but a man requires time in which to eat and digest
them. If they are snatched from his hand the moment they are picked, his
vengeance fails of all sweetness and justification.
On the other hand, Blizzard, in order to revenge himself on the man who
had maimed him, was willing to give, if not his liberty, his life.
If he could not abduct Barbara and go free, he would kill himself when
they came to take him. But he did not wish to kill himself. He wished to
live a long time after, gloating on his memories. He had also on foot a
scheme which, starting almost as a pleasantry, had developed in his
mind, and was still developing, until its latent possibilities staggered
his own imagination.
A certain Jew, proprietor of a pawnshop, was in reality a receiver of
stolen goods. It was common knowledge among certain crooks in the city,
that the recently stolen Bland diamonds had come into this man's hands.
Blizzard thought that it would be funny to take these diamonds away from
the Jew, hold them for a while, and then, since the fellow was after all
a friend, return them. To break into Reichman's store at night would be
dangerous. Reichman himself was no coward, and he employed a savage
night-watchman, just out of Sing Sing. So Blizzard planned a robbery in
a spirit of farce, and in the broad and crowded light of day.
Six stalwart young fellows entered Reichman's pawnshop at eleven-thirty
in the morning. Each one had a watch or an overcoat to pawn. They
crowded about Reichman, all talking at once. They were strangers to him.
At exactly the same time the attention of the six policemen on the six
nearest beats was attracted by the drunken and disorderly behavior of
six more stalwart young fellows--one to each policeman. In the end six
arrests were made, the six young drunkards were marched off to the
station house, and the beats of the six policemen were for the time
being deserted.
Sharp at eleven-thirty-seven, five of the six young men in Reichman's
shop flung an overcoat over his head and rushed him into a dark corner,
choking him so that he could not scream. A person in the street,
however, saw the struggle, and rushed off to find the nearest policeman,
who of course could not be found. Meanwhile the sixth young man ran
lightly upstairs, looked under the mattress of the palatial Reichman
bed, where he had been told to look, and secured the stolen diamonds.
The farce came to a proper conclusion. Reichman could not complain to
the police that he had been robbed of stolen goods. And he went about
for many days with a sour face.
Blizzard came every day to condole with him, and finally to return the
diamonds. Then he told Reichman, a man he could trust, how the robbery
had been worked, and the two put their heads together.
If six policemen could be so easily put out of commission at a given
moment, why not many? If a pawnshop could be so easily looted, why not
Tiffany's, or one of the great wholesale jewellers in Maiden Lane? Why
not the Sub-Treasury?
In Blizzard's mind the idea became an obsession; and he worked out
schemes, in all their details; only to think of something bigger and
more engaging. One or two details were present in all his plans: a
hiding-place for the treasure when he should get it, and a large number
of lieutenants whom he could trust. He could, he believed, at the least
throw the whole city into a state of chaos for a few hours--for half a
day--for a whole day. And during that period of lawless confusion
anything might happen to anybody--to Barbara for instance. But his plans
were not ripe, nor his trusted lieutenants as yet sufficient in number.
He must therefore either put off his vengeance indefinitely, or run the
risk of having his own career as a criminal come to a very sudden end.
For once in his life he vacillated. But it was something more than the
desire for vengeance which decided him to risk everything on
immediate action.
His plan was very simple. Sometimes a messenger-boy brought a note to
her studio. And Blizzard had observed that Barbara's invariable habit
with notes was first to read them, and then to burn them. She never tore
them into pieces and threw them into the fireplace. She struck a match,
lighted them at one corner, and saw to it that they were entirely
consumed. When Barbara had finished with a note, or a circular, or a
letter, Sherlock Holmes himself could not have recovered the contents or
the name of the sender. Banking on this habit, Blizzard wrote Barbara a
note and sent it to her father's house by a man he could trust. She
received the note at six o'clock, while she was resting prior to
dressing and dining out. It read as follows: