POST OFFICE THRILLS

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2598, 4 September 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

POST OFFICE THRILLS

EXPERIENCES IN AMERICA

The monotonous drudgery of post office service is not without its sensations and its romances, as will be seen from the following experiences of an American deputy postmaster, related in the “Wide World Magazine,” He writes: — . One day a card was received addressed to “Janies Ropell.” The name was an entirely new one to me. I glanced at it, hesitated, and then studied it again. Next, unconsciously, I stole a peep at tbo writing on the reverse side. It ran thus: ' “Dear Jim,—Have bought Seven cows, twenty-one sheep and - ninetyfour chickens. Clear at six-fifteen. Ship at six-forty.—Arty.” ■ It was rather puzzling, but was undoubtedly clear to file sender; and, moreover, it was none of my business. I filed it in its proper box and went on. with the distributions Several times during the day the odd message occurred to me, and I pondered over it-. The ludicrousness of a shipment of oows, sheep and chickens appealed to me. But the next mail solved the thing—so far as I was concerned. A small key, of the ordinaiy night-latch variety, arrived, attached to a tag addressed to “James Ropel.” The handwriting was the'same, but two tilings roused my curiosity. The address on the card was to “James Ropell,” and that on the tag to “James Ropel.” A difference of an “1” seemed quite important to me. Moreover, the key was not a factory production—it ' was bandmade, showing the file marks quite plainly. It required but a moment s cogitation to convince me that I was facing the handiwork of a gang of shrewd bank robbers. I got to work immediately and visited the cashier of the First National Bank. He was a sedate, elderly man, and looked at me in surprise as I abruptly inquired: “Mr .Waite, is the combination of your safe three numbers —seven, twen-ty-one, ninety-four ?” “Really, young man,” he began, reddening deeply. , “And does your side door open by a small key with three sharp teeth in it?” I went on. Mr Waite placed his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly manner and, dropping his voice to a whisper, said: “You are right both times, but how on earth did you discover it? And why are you asking me such queer questions?” I then related my suspicions, and wa s gratified to note that he was deeply interested.. “There will be no danger until “Ropell” arrives and gets the key and the card,” he said. “Then we must be prepared for him. I think we can catch the rascal red-handed.” I spent three days in eager anxiety to see James Ropell. He came at last. •Yith an heroic attempt to appear calm and unconcerned I handed him over the card and key. He gav© m© a quick keen glance as - I did so but I appeared not t-o notice it. A few moments later I notified Mr Waite and he at once began his preparations for receiving his unwelcome guest. Three strong and fearless men were during the day unobtrusively hidden away in the directors’ room, adjoining the little alcove in which stood the liuge safe. Their vigil was a long and arduous one, for it was not until 5 a.m. that Ropell made his appearance. He entered the side door so noiselessly that the drowsy watchers almost failed, to note his presence. And then, at the crucial moment, a most unfortunate thing occurred. One of the watchers whose arm had become benumbed by long reclining on it, dropped his revolver as he drew it. It clattered to the floor, and in an instant the robber had bounded through the door and sped off into the night. He got clear away. Though- exceedingly chagrined, Mr Waite insisted upon rewarding me handsomely, and the combination of the big .safe was immediately changed. My most serious experience centred in the occasion wherein was enacted a bold and well-planned scheme to rob the post office of its funds and stamps. I was alone' at the time, and the severe snowstorm that was raging had. caused- the streets to be entirely deserted.

Suddenly the rear door (opening on an alley) opened and a tall, powerfullooking stranger entered. “Evening, son 1” he began. “Heavy storm we’re having.” . I remained silent, staring at him m surprise. Very few -persons were allowed in the apartment where I was, and I wondered at the man’s audacity in thus unceremoniously foisting his. presence upon me. “By George! I dislike this job, he said, but I’m pressed for time, and must do it to-night.” . , “What job is that?” I inquired. “Inspecting the office,” he returned. “Want to'see my credentials?” “Yes, sir,” said I. The stranger produced a typewritten statement to the effect that he was a special examiner for the State ox lowa and advising all postmasters and their deputies to render him all necessary aid and information in checking up the accounts of their offices. The document bore a large red seal and a huge signature that no human being could hope to decipher. I had> seen a goodly number of inspectors’ credentials before, but none of them had the apappearance of this one. I began lo realise' that the man was an imposter.' With this thought, came* a thrilling remembrance of my situation —alone, in ja comparatively out-of-the-way location, with a howling storm going on outside.^ I was pondering the matter when my strained ear caught a welcome sound. A faint tapping from the little tele" phone box was momentarily audible, and I knew at once that one of the employes of the printing office across the street was in. The signal that I always gave for “Big mail—hurry up!” was three distinct taps. Could I call help over the wire at this time of night? I made up my mind to try. As nonchalently as possible I strolled over to the vicinity of the box and picked up a small tack-hammer that happened to be handy. Under the pretext of driving a nail for a calendar I gave the sounding box three urgent taps, and I knew that if Anderson was in the print shop it must surely attract his attention. Then I walked back to the stove. “Well, get the money out, son,” urged the stranger, impatiently; “we 11 count that up first.’’ . .

My visitor kept his heavy coat on, and that fact overruled me whatever doubt I may still have had. “I have an engagement to-night, said I. “You couldn’t postpone the inspection, until morning, I suppose? The man coughed and glanced sourly at me. . _ . “No, couldn’t think of it. Business is business and I am rushed. Got big territory to cover. Where is the money?” , . , ~ , . 1 was at my wits ’ end, but before i had time to think of further parley the door suddenly opened, admitting Anderson* and another young fellow. My visitor surveyed the pair surlily and finally said:— “You can’t come in here. We will not have interference while inspection is going on.” But 1 caught Anderson s eye at the proper moment and gave him a sign to remain. , . , “I work here,” replied Anderson, “I’m going to stay.” This reply seemed to nonplus the stranger for a moment, and he glowered into the fire. Then he turned toward Anderson. “Well, boys, I think you can stay,” he continued, “though it is not customary. You would oblige me, however, if you would, go down to the nearest restaurant and order a hot supper for me to be served at ten o’clock. 1 have, missed my sup. per, and shall he hungry by that time. He said this in so matter-of-fact a tone that Anderson seemed to waver. The situation must have puzzled him, with this stranger endeavoring to get ridi of him and me signalling him to stay. Anderson was shrewd, however, and apparently solved the puzzle to his own satisfaction, for he- slowly began buttoning up his coat. I presume my face exhibited the consternation I felt, and I was cogitating the advisability of exploding my suspicions on the spot when Anderson acted. A long wire poker stood near the stove, and quick as a flash Anderson had seized it and swung it round with a vicious sweep full upon the crown of the man’s head. He staggered and cursed, thrust his hand into his deep coat pocket and withdrew it, clutching a revolver of large calibre. Before he could use it, however, my friend brought the poker down with . cat-like swiftness on the fellow’s wrist, and the weapon went clattering to the floor. .. With a snarl of rage the stranger leaped uuon Anderson and bore him to the floor: Beside my hand was a heavy dating stamp, and. I grasped it quickly and sprang on the rascal s back. I never applied a dating stamp wuth so much energy as I did at that moment. The hard metal face of the die proved too much for the man, and with a yell of pain he rose, shook us off, and disappeared headlong through the door. He left behind him a revolver, a hat, and one finely typewritten ‘inspectors credential.” ' , . , . ~ A week later he was captured in Nebraska while attempting a similar game, and the marks of my dating stamp were plainly visible on his head and neck.

In New York.— Stranger (entering elevator): “Sixty-four please. Elevator Boy : “Yes, sir. Floor or office? “Can I offer you a little friendly advice?” , ~ “If you’ll take a little in return.” Here negotiations ceased. The Hero.—“So Bliggins has written an historical novel?” “Yes,” answered Miss Cayenne. “Who is the hero of the hook?” “The man who has undertaken to publish it.” Worth Going to Gaol For.—Judge (at the close of a trial): “Prisoner, you may have the last word.” Prisoner (turning to wife, in the audience): Do you hear that, old lady P” , Satan is represented as runnin’ after folks wif a pitchfork,” said Uncle Eben, “when de truth is dat so many folks is pullin’ at his coat-tails dat he ain’ got time to chase nobody.” Butcher: “What can I send you today, Mrs Styles?’* ; Mrs Styles : “Send me a leg of mutton, and Toe sure that it is. from a black sheep; we are in mourning, you know. Fair Amateur: “The curtain will rise in a few minutte. Are you quite suro TtftUt the , part where I We’d better rehearse