Read Online Strange Yesterday by Howard Fast - Free Book Online

and I have heard from reliable sources that the sum kept therein, unbelievable though it may seem, is hardly short of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Now, that I could manage very well myself, but I desire the girl, and have so entered into an agreement with Mr. Cortlandt. Do you grasp it now?”
    â€œI think that I do,” John Preswick said slowly.
    â€œYou will need two men: one to help you with the girl, and one to help me with the gold—two men you can trust, and who will go as “far as you yourself without scruples. The place is in Cherry Street. I do not anticipate trouble, but if it does crop up, there is the knife, which I understand you know how to use.”
    â€œYes,” said John Preswick.
    â€œYou will have a chair there waiting for her and the gold. It may be necessary to shut her up—gag and bind her. Can I trust that to you?”
    â€œYou can,” said John Preswick.
    â€œMy hand, then.”
    John Preswick took the hand with the solitaire.
    As he was leaving, Mr. Lennox said: “One more thing. I’d like to have you over there to find the lay of land. It is a house of three stories, with a flat, red front. You cannot miss it. Yes, the name is Preswick.”
    And with that, the door closed behind him. John Preswick had not stirred. Something there was about all of it that seemed strangely familiar—as though he had heard all before, as though it were a puzzle, each part fitting cleverly into the other. It was melodrama of the rankest sort, but to John Preswick it rang with a truth that was all but lifelike. What lacked, he could not say. But he knew, oh, so surely, that some day he would have the explanation. Some day. But there was a wistfulness to that, for he realized that the day was far, very far, off, and that perhaps, even with the day, he would not know. In a way, he was a fool, and that would matter. “Perhaps,” he thought to himself, “it has to do with the names, for Preswick is a common and yet an uncommon name….”
    Mr. Cortlandt said: “Can’t say as I care for that, mixing up with a woman. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t touch it; but this pays too well to let slip. I am leaving the details to you, Mr. Ridge. I will have sail up at nine and beat down for the Narrows. You will follow in the long-boat. The trust is yours.”
    â€œYou can rest—in it.”
    â€œI’ll count on that. And there will be more than enough for all.” He gave John Preswick his hand.

6
    I T was upon the third evening after that that a sedan chair stopped before the tall brick house on Cherry Street. A man in a fawn-colored jacket and a gray beaver stepped out, shook loose his lace cuffs, tilted his stick under his arm at an angle; and walked to the door. The two men who had borne the chair looked about, and then, seeing that the street was empty, followed after him. However, they stood to one side in the shadow, while he lifted and let fall the cast-iron knocker. As the door opened, he walked in, and the two men darted up the stairs and slipped in after him.
    A negro had opened the door to John Preswick, and now the startled black looked down at a pistol the man in the fawn-colored jacket held to his stomach. In a matter-of-fact way, John Preswick said:
    â€œIf you make so much as the slightest sound, I shall cheerfully put this ball into your groin. It will not be pleasant, so be wise and silent. You are William, are you not?”
    â€œYes, sir,” answered the negro. “I do not know how you know, but you are right. No, sir, I shan’t make the least sound—no, sir.”
    Pointing with the pistol, John Preswick said to the man behind him: “Gag him. Truss him up and roll him under the portieres.” And to the negro: “If you make any sound, if you tap with your feet, if you get loose, I shall return and give you that ball—where I said.” With that, he left him, the two men following