A Retrieved Reformation

A Retrieved Reformation

O. Henry

A guard came to the prison shoe-shop, where Jimmy Valentine was
assiduously stitching uppers, and escorted him to the front office. There
the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had been signed that morning by
the governor. Jimmy took it in a tired kind of way. He had served nearly
ten months of a four-year sentence. He had expected to stay only about
three months, at the longest. When a man with as many friends on the
outside as Jimmy Valentine had is received in the "stir" it is hardly
worth while to cut his hair.

"Now, Valentine," said the warden, "you'll go out in the morning.
"Brace up, and make a man of yourself. You're not a bad fellow at heart.
Stop cracking safes, and live straight".

"Me?" said Jimmy, in surprise. "Why, I never cracked a safe in my
life."

"Oh, no," laughed the warden. "Of course not. Let's see, now. How
was it you happened to get sent up on that Springfield job? Was it because
you wouldn't prove an alibi for fear of compromising somebody in extremely
high-toned society? Or was it simply a case of a mean old jury that had it
in for you? It's always one or the other with you innocent victims."

"Me?" said Jimmy, still blankly virtuous. "Why, warden, I never
was in Springfield in my life!"

"Take him back, Cronin," smiled the warden, "and fix him up with
outgoing clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning, and let him come to
the bull pen. Better think over my advice, Valentine."

At a quarter past seven on the next morning Jimmy stood in the
warden?s outer office. He had on a suit of the villainously fitting,
ready-made clothes and a pair of the stiff, squeaky shoes that the state
furnishes to its discharged compulsory guests.

The clerk handed him a railroad ticket and the five-dollar bill
with which the law expected him to rehabilitate himself into good
citizenship and prosperity.

The warden gave him a cigar, and shook hands. Valentine 9762, was
chronicled on the books "Pardoned by Governor," and Mr. James Valentine
walked out into the sunshine. 

Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and
the smell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a restaurant. There he
tasted the first sweet joys of liberty in the shape of a broiled chicken
and a bottle of white wine - followed by a cigar a grade better than the
one the warden had given him. From there he proceeded leisurely to the
depot. He tossed a quarter into the hat of a blind man sitting by the
door, and boarded his train. Three hours set him down in a little town
near the state line. He went to the cafe of one Mike Dolan and shook hands
with Mike, who was alone behind the bar.


"Sorry we couldn't make it sooner, Jimmy, me boy," said Mike. "But we had
that protest from Springfield to buck against, and the governor nearly
balked. Feeling all right?" 

"Fine," said Jimmy. "Got my key?" 

He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room at
the rear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on the floor was
still Ben Price's collar-button that had been torn from that eminent
detective's shirt-band when they had overpowered Jimmy to arrest him.
Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a panel in the
wall and dragged out a dust-covered suitcase. He opened this and gazed
fondly at the finest set of burglar's tools in the East. It was a complete
set, made of specially tempered steel, the latest designs in drills,
punches, braces and bits, jimmies, clamps, and augers, with two or three
novelties invented by Jimmy himself, in which he took pride. Over nine
hundred dollars they had cost him to have made at ________ , a place where
they make such things for the profession.

In half an hour Jimmy went downstairs and through the cafe. He was
now dressed in tasteful and well-fitting clothes, and carried his dusted
and cleaned suitcase in his hand. "Got anything on?" asked Mike Dolan,
genially. "Me?" said Jimmy, in a puzzled tone.

"I don't understand. I'm representing the New York Amalgamated
Short Snap Biscuit Cracker and Frazzled Wheat Company."

This statement delighted Mike to such an extent that Jimmy had to
take a seItzer-and-milk on the spot. He never touched "hard" drinks.

A week after the release of Valentine, 9762, there was a
neat job of safe-burglary done in Richmond, Indiana, with no clue to the
author A scant eight hundred dollars was all that was secured. Two weeks
after that a patented, improved, burglar-proof safe in Logansport was
opened like a cheese to the tune of fifteen hundred dollars, currency;
securities and silver untouched. That began to interest the
rogue-catchers. Then an old-fashioned banksafe in Jefferson City became
active and threw out of its crater an emption of bank-notes amounting to
five thousand dollars. The losses were now high enough to bring the matter
up into Ben Price's class of work. By comparing notes, a
remarkable similarity in the methods of the burglaries was noticed. Ben
Price investigated the scenes of the robberies, and was heard to remark:

"That's Dandy Jim Valentine's autograph. He's resumed business.
Look at that combination knob - jerked out as easy as pulling up a radish
in wet weather. He's got the only clamps that can do it. And look how
clean those tumblers were punched out! Jimmy never has to drill but one
hole. Yes, I guess I Want Mr Valentine. He'll do his bit next time without
any short-time or clemency foolishness." 

Ben Price knew Jimmy's habits. He had learned them while working
up the Springfield case. Long jumps, quick getaways, no confederates, and
a taste for good society - these ways had helped Mr. Valentine to become
noted as a successful dodger of retribution. It was given out that Ben
Price had taken up the trail of the elusive cracksman, and other people
with burglar-proof safes felt more at ease.

One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his suitcase climbed out of the
mail-hack in Elmore, a little town five miles off the rail-road down in
the black-jack country of Arkansas. Jimmy, looking like an athletic young
senior just home from college, went down the board sidewalk toward the
hotel.

A young lady crossed the street, passed him at the corner and
entered a door over which was the sign "The Elmore Bank." Jimmy Valentine
looked into her eyes, forgot what he was, and became another man. She
lowered her eyes and colored slightly. Young men of Jimmy?s style and
looks were scarce in Elmore.

Jimmy collared a boy that was loafing on the steps of the bank as if he were
one of the stock-holders, and began to ask him questions about the town,
feeding him dimes at intervals. By and by the young lady came out, looking
royally unconscious of the young man with the suitcase, and went her way.

"Isn't that young lady Miss Polly Simpson?" asked Jimmy, with
specious guile.

"Naw," said the boy. "She's Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this bank. What'd
you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? I'm going to get a
bulldog.Got any more dimes?"

Jimmy went to the Planters? Hotel, registered as Ralph D. Spencer,
and engaged a room. He leaned on the desk and declared his platform to the
clerk. He said he had come to Elmore to look for a location to go into
business. How was the shoe business, now, in the town? He had thought of
the shoe business. Was there an opening?

The clerk was impressed by the clothes and manner of Jimmy. He,
himself, was something of a pattern of fashion to the thinly gilded youth
of Elmore, but he now perceived his shortcomings. While trying to figure
out Jimmy's manner of tying his four-in-hand he cordially gave
information.

Yes, there ought to be a good opening in the shoe line. There wasn?t an
exclusive shoe-store in the place. The dry-goods and general stores handled
them. Business in all lines was fairly good. Hoped Mr. Spencer would decide
to locate in Elmore. He would find it a pleasant town to live in, and the
people very sociable.

Mr. Spencer thought he would stop over in the town a few days and look over
the situation. No, the clerk needn't call the boy. He would carry up his
suitcase, himself; it was rather heavy.

Mr. Ralph Spencer, the phoenix that arose from Jimmy Valentine?s
ashes - ashes left by the flame of a sudden and alternative attack of
love - remained in Elmore, and prospered. He opened a shoe-store and
secured a good run of trade.

Socially he was also a success, and made many friends. And he
accomplished the wish of his heart. He met Miss Annabel Adams, and became
more and more captivated by her charms. 

At the end of a year the situation of Mr. Ralph Spencer was this:
he had won the respect of the community, his shoe-store was flourishing,
and he and Annabel were engaged to be married in two weeks. Mr Adams, the
typical, plodding, country banker, approved of Spencer. Annabel?s pride in
him almost equalled her affection. He was as much at home in the family of
Mr. Adams and that of Annabel's married sister as if he were already a
member.

One day Jimmy sat down in his room and wrote this letter, which he
mailed to the safe address of one of his old friends in St. Louis: 

Dear Old Pal: 

I want you to be at Sullivan?s place, in Littie Rock, next
Wednesday night at nine o'clock, I want you to wind up some
little matters for me. And, also, I want to make you a present of my kit
of tools. I know you'll be glad to get them--you couldn't duplicate the
lot fot a thousand dollars. Say, Billy, I?ve quit the old
business - a year ago. I've got a nice store. I?m making an honest
living, and I'm going to marry the finest girl on earth two weeks from
now. It's the only life, Billy - the straight one. I wouldn't touch a
dollar of another man?s money now for a million. After I get married I?m
going to sell out and go West, where there won't be so much danger of
having old scores brought up against me. I tell you, Billy, she's an
angel. She believes in me; and I wouldn't do another crooked thing for the
whole world. Be sure to be at Sully's, for I must see you. I'll bring
along the tools with me. 

Your old friend, Jimmy 

On the Monday night after Jimmy wrote this letter, Ben Price
jogged unobtrusively into Elmore in a livery buggy. He lounged about town
in his quiet way until he found out what he wanted to know. From the
drug-store across the street from Spencer's shoe-store he got a good look
at Ralph D. Spencer. 

"Going tomarry the banker's daughter are you, Jimmy?" said Ben to
himself, softly. "Well, I don't know!"

The next morning Jimmy took breakfast at the
Adamses. He was going to Little Rock that day to order his wedding-suit
and buy something nice for Annabel. That would be the first time he had
left town since he came to Elmore. It had been more than a year now since
those last professional "jobs," and he thought he could safely venture
out. 

After breakfast quite a family party went down town together - Mr.
Adams, Annabel, Jimmy, and Annabel's married sister with her two little
girls, aged five and nine. They came by the hotel where Jimmy still
boarded, and he ran up to his room and brought along his suitcase. Then
they went on to the bank. There stood Jimmy's horse and buggy and Dolph
Gibson, who was going to drive him over to the railroad station.

All went inside the high, carved oak railings into the banking
room - Jimmy included, for Mr. Adams's future son-in-law was welcome
anywhere. The clerks were pleased to be greeted by the good-looking,
agreeable young man who was going to marry Miss Annabel.

Jimmy set his suitcase down. Annabel, whose heart was bubbling
with happiness and lively youth, put on Jimmy's hat and picked up the
suitcase. "Wouldn't I make a nice drummer?" said Annabel. "My! Ralph, how
heavy it is. Feels like it was full of gold bricks."

"Lot of nickel-plated shoe-horns in there," said Jimmy, cooly,
"that I'm going to return. Thought I'd save express charges by taking them
up. I'm getting awfully economical."

The Elmore Bank had just put in a new safe and vault. Mr. Adams
was very proud of it, and insisted on an inspection by everyone. The vault
was a small one, but it had a new patented door. It fastened with three
solid steel bolts thrown simultaneous]y with a single handle, and had a
time-lock. Mr. Adams beamingly explained its workings to Mr. Spencer, who
showed a courteous but not too intelligent interest. The two childeren,
May and Agatha, were delighted by the shining metal and funny clock and
knobs.

While they were thus engaged Ben Price sauntered in and leaned on
his elbow, looking casually inside between the railings. He told the
teller that he didn't want anything; he was just waiting for a man he
knew.

Suddenly there was a scream or two from the women, and a
commotion. Unperceived by the elders, May, the nine-year-old girl, in a
spirit of play, had shut Agatha in the vault. She had then shot the bolts
and turned the knob of the combination as she had seen Mr. Adams do.

The old banker sprang to the handle and tugged at it for a moment.
"The door can't be opened," he groaned. "The clock hasn't been wound nor
the combination set."

Agatha's mother screamed again, hysterically.

"Hush!" said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. "All be quiet
for a moment, Agatha!" he called as loudly as he could: "Listen to me."
During the following silence they could just hear the faint sound of the
child wildly shrieking in the dark vault in a panic of terror.

"My precious darling!" wailed the mother. "She will die of fright!
Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can't you men do something?"

"There isn't a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that
door," said Mr.Adams, in a shaky voice. "My God! Spencer, what shall we
do? That child - she can't stand it long in there. There isn't enough air,
and, besides, she'll go into convulsions from fright."

Agatha?s mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with her
hands. Somebody wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned to Jimmy, her
large eyes full of anguish, but not yet despairing. To a woman nothing
seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she worships.

"Can't you do something, Ralph - try, won?t you?" 

He looked at her with a queer, soft smile on his lips and in his
keen eyes. "Annabel," he said, "give me that rose you are wearing, will
you?"

Hardly believing that she heard him aright, she unpinned the bud
from the bosom of her dress, and placed it in his hand. Jimmy stuffed it
into his vest.pocket, threw off his coat and pulled up his shirt-sleeves.
With that act Ralph D. Spencer passed away and Jimmy Valentine took his
place.

"Get away from the door, all of you," he commanded, shortly.

He set his suitcase on the table, and opened it out flat. From
that time on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of any one else.
He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and orderly, whistling
softly to himself as he always did when at work. In a deep silence and
immovable, the others watched him as if under a spell.

In a minute Jimmy's pet drill was biting smoothly into the steel
door. In ten minutes - breaking his own burglarious record - he threw back
the bolts and opened the door.

Agatha, almost collapsed, but safe, was gathered into her
mother's arms. 

Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, and walked outside the railings
toward the front door. As he went he thought he heard a far-away voice
that he once knew call "Ralph!", but he never hesitated.

At the door a big man stood somewhat in his way.

"Hello, Ben!" said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. "Got
around at last, have you? Well, let's go. I don't know that it makes much
difference, now."

And then Ben Price acted rather strangely. 

"Guess you're mistaken, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Don't believe I
recognize you. Your buggy's waiting for you, ain't it?"

And Ben Price turned and strolled down the street.


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