Mr. Gregory at once implored him to take command. It meant the success
of the venture; anything else meant failure.
"But how'n thunder am I to know the robbers when I see 'em?" demanded
the marshal, nervously pulling bluegrass up by the roots.
"You'll know 'em all right," said Andrew Gregory. Thursday came and with
it the "troupe." Anderson Crow had not slept for three nights, he was so
full of thrills and responsibility. Bright and early that morning he was
on the lookout for suspicious characters. Gregory was to meet the
detectives from New York at half-past seven in the evening. By previous
arrangement, these strangers were to congregate casually at Tinkletown
Inn, perfectly diguised as gentlemen, ready for instructions. The two
arch-plotters had carefully devised a plan of action. Gregory chuckled
secretly when he thought of the sensation Tinkletown was to
experience--and he thought of it often, too.
The leading members of Boothby's All Star Company "put up" at the Inn,
which was so humble that it staggered beneath this unaccustomed weight
of dignity. The beautiful Miss Marmaduke (in reality, Miss Cora Miller)
was there, and so were Miss Trevanian, Miss Gladys Fitzmaurice, Richmond
Barrett (privately Jackie Blake), Thomas J. Booth, Francisco Irving, Ben
Jefferson and others. The Inn was glorified. All Tinkletown looked upon
the despised old "eating house" with a reverence that was not reluctant.
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