The Bernalillo County Bank stands on a corner facing east and south.

It is an unpretentious little bank of the older style of architecture, and might well be located in the centre of any small range town and hold the shipping receipts of a cattleman who was growing rich as he grew old.
Luck stopped across the street and looked the bank over, and saw how the sun would shine in at the door and through the wide windows during the greater part of the afternoon, and hoped that the cashier was a human being and would not object to a fake robbery.

Not liking suspense, he stepped off the pavement and dodged a jitney, and hurried over to interview the cashier.
You never know what secret ambitions hide behind the impassive courtesy of the average business man.

This cashier, for instance, wore a green eyeshade whenever his hat was not on his, head.

His hair was thin and his complexion pasty and his shoulders were too stooped for a man of his age.