CHAPTER VIUNEXPECTED EVIDENCE
“Larry, aren’t you late to-night?” asked his mother, as, shortly after his talk with the bank directors, the young reporter entered the apartment where he lived. “Oh, are you going out of town?” she inquired, as she caught sight of the valise.
“Bring me somethin’ back, Larry?” begged his little sister Mary.
“Take me with you!” exclaimed James, who always wanted to be on the go.
“Are you really going anywhere, Larry?” asked Lucy, the sister who had been cured of a serious spinal ailment by a celebrated doctor, through Larry’s suggestion.
“No,” he answered, as he kissed them all. “I’m going to stay right here—for a while, anyhow.”
“Then why the valise?” asked his mother.
“That,” said Larry, with pretended solemnity, “is all that remains of a million dollars.”
“A million dollars!” exclaimed Lucy.
“In big bills,” added Jerry. “Thousand-dollar bills. Enough to buy this big apartment house inwhich we live, several times over. Enough to do so many things that it would make your head swim to think of them. And this is all that’s left.”
“Oh, it’s a fairy story! I know it is!” cried James, who was fond of strange tales. “Tell it to me, Larry.”
So Larry did, but it was a different story from the one the small lad had expected, though it was none the less interesting.
“And so the million dollars disappeared,” concluded Larry, “and this valise and some bricks are all that are left to remember them by.”
“And you’re going to try to find the money?” asked his mother anxiously. “Oh, Larry! I’m afraid you’ll run into some danger.”
“What! Danger in trying to find a million dollars?”
“No, but in trying to find the thief,” said Mrs. Dexter.
“Well, I haven’t found him yet, and maybe I won’t,” spoke the young reporter. “But I’m going to try, and I don’t believe there’ll be much danger. As for the money—well, that may never be found.”
“What are you going to do with the valise?” asked Lucy.
“It’s the first clew I’m working on,” replied her brother. “But, now that I have it, I really don’t know what to do with it. I’d like to find out where the thief got it.”
“Then why don’t you go to the stores wherethey sell such satchels as that, and ask if they sold any lately, and to whom?” suggested Lucy.
“Say! I believe you’ve struck it!” cried Larry. “That is just what I’ll do. I was wondering how I’d get on the track of the person who bought this, and that’s the only way. Say, Lucy, I’ll make you my first lady assistant,” and he laughed at his joke.
“But how can you ever find out, in such a big city as New York, who bought a valise that is just like thousands of others?” asked Mrs. Dexter curiously.
“Only by asking in all the places where they sell them,” replied Larry, “and at that, it’s a slim chance. But it’s worth taking.”
He had stopped in theLeaderoffice that afternoon, before coming home, and had had a talk with the city editor. Mr. Ember had told Larry to go ahead on his own lines, to do just as he thought best, always remembering that the paper wanted news, above everything else, and exclusive news, or “beats,” in preference to any other.
“I think your idea of the valise clew is a good one,” the editor had said. “You needn’t write too much about it, or the other papers will be on the same trail. But as soon as you find out anything definite, then spring the story.”
And so Larry had gone home to puzzle over the matter. Now he had something definite to work on, as a result of Lucy’s suggestion, and he determined to begin the first thing in the morning.
Accordingly, after a visit to the office of the paper, when he wrote a short story of his talk with the directors, he started uptown again.
“I’ll try the trunk and bag stores first,” thought Larry. “This is an expensive sort of valise, made of good leather, and a small store would not be likely to carry it. So I’ll try the big places first. It looks like a stock bag, for it doesn’t seem as if it had been made to order.”
The valise was a yellow one, made of strong, heavy leather, with substantial clasps or handles. It was not such a one as would be purchased by a casual traveler, but looked to be made for carrying heavy weights.
It would be of little interest, and serve no purpose, to detail all of Larry’s trips to various stores in search of information as to one that had recently sold a valise such as he carried. Shop after shop was visited without result.
Only a few had ever carried such a satchel as was used to aid in the robbery. Some had sold out their supply years before, and had not replenished it. Others still had some, but had made no sale of them in months. The bags were made in various factories, from a stock pattern, and it was practically impossible to trace the one in question in that way.
“Well, I guess I’ve covered nearly all the regular bag and trunk stores,” said Larry, about a week after he had begun his detective work on thebank mystery. “Now for the department stores. They’re going to be harder yet.”
All this time nothing very new had developed about the robbery, so there was not much for the young reporter to write for theLeader. The story still “ran,” but it was mostly of the financial effect, and the efforts of the Consolidated to recoup itself after the big loss. Of his search for the store that had sold the bag Larry wrote nothing, and none of the other papers seemed to be following that clew.
Larry visited many department stores, and at first, as had been the case on his trips to the trunk shops, he met with no success. Not many of the stores carried bags of the kind in question, and few had sold any lately. Of those that had, the sales could be traced, and they were to persons who were above suspicion.
“I guess I’ll not do much on this trail,” thought Larry, regretfully, as he came out of the store after store without any result. “I’ll tackle the bricks next.”
He was approaching one of the largest department stores in the city, as these rather gloomy thoughts came to him, and, as he turned down Sixth avenue, to enter it, he wondered if, after all, he would be successful.
As he had done on his visits to other department shops, he went directly to the office of the superintendent.
“I’m from theLeader,” Larry explained briefly,“and I’d like to know if you handle these bags, and if you sold any lately. It’s about the million-dollar bank robbery,” he added, as he showed the valise.
“Is that so?” inquired the superintendent interestedly. “Well, say, we do handle those bags. I remember seeing some in the trunk department not long ago. But I guess I’d better refer you to the head of stock. She’ll know more about them than I do, and some of the sales people may remember selling such a bag recently. That was a big robbery, all right. Did you write the story of it?”
“I did,” admitted Larry modestly.
“Good! I’m glad to have met you. Here, boy, show this gentleman to the trunk department, and tell Miss Mason I said she was to give him any information she had.”
Larry followed his guide through the big store, and was soon in the section where traveling bags, trunks and other aids to tourists were displayed.
“Miss Mason! Oh, Miss Mason!” sung out the boy. “Some one to see you.”
“Molly! Molly!” cried one of the salesgirls. “You’re wanted.”
“Molly Mason,” mused Larry. “That’s a pretty name. I wonder if the young lady is pretty, too? But if she’s head of stock most likely she’s an elderly lady.”
“Miss Mason!” cried the boy again.
“Molly! Molly!” exclaimed the salesgirl.
“Coming,” answered a pleasant voice, and Larry started, for he realized that he had heard that voice before. A moment later a young lady—an exceedingly pretty young lady—stood before him, looking at him with wonder in her brown eyes.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh, you’re——” She stopped in some confusion, and blushed.
“Well, this is strange!” cried Tom. “I never thought I’d find you here!”
To his great surprise he found himself confronted by the young lady to whom he had rendered assistance in the subway about a week before—the young lady whom the unmannerly bully had shoved to one side in boarding the train.
“Are you all right now?” asked Larry. “Is—er—does your ankle pain you?”
“Not at all, thank you,” she replied, blushing more than ever. There was heard the laughter of several salesgirls, and the messenger boy looked on and grinned. Larry felt himself getting red in the face.
“I—er—I—well, I didn’t come here to ask how you were getting on, Miss Mason,” stammered Larry. “That is, not exactly, though I was interested in you. I’m Mr. Larry Dexter, from theLeader. I’m on this bank mystery case, and this is the valise that was used to turn the trick. I’m trying to find out where it was sold, and who bought it.
“I’ve tried lots of places, and finally I camehere. I have seen the superintendent, and he said it would be all right to interview the head of stock here, though I never expected to meet you.”
“Dat’s right,” put in the boy. “De super says youse is t’ tell him all he wants t’ know,” and then, with a frank wink at Larry, the lad scurried away.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll tell you all I can,” began Miss Mason. “But I don’t know that I can help you. What is it you want to know?”
“Do you recollect selling any bags like this lately?” asked Larry, holding out the one from which he hoped so much.
“Why, yes, I do,” was the unexpected answer. “I have sold several lately, and so have the girls in this department. But I don’t know that this one is from our stock. Let me look at it.”
She opened it, and examined it closely. Then she gave voice to an exclamation:
“That’s surely from our stock!” she cried. “It’s one I sold myself. I remember it, because the cost mark was blurred,” and she showed Larry where, in an obscure place on the lining, there were some letters in ink.
“You sold this very bag?” asked Larry, in delighted surprise.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About two weeks ago. Wait, I can tell you exactly by looking at my memoranda book.” She hurried to get it, and, on her return, stated thatit was just ten days previous that the valise had been sold.
“Now, if you can only tell me to whom it went, maybe I can get on the trail of the thief,” spoke Larry eagerly. “Any record of it, Miss Mason?”
The young lady looked carefully over her book, and then shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” she answered, “but that’s all I can tell you. Wait a moment, though. There were two of these bags sold that day. I always keep an account of my stock, so I can tell. Two bags were sold. I disposed of one, and Miss Jones, that’s the head clerk, of the other.”
“But can’t you recollect to whom you sold the bag?” asked Larry desperately.
“Wait,” begged Miss Mason. She was trying hard to think. “I’m so busy that it’s hard to remember all the customers,” she said. “But—yes, I have it! I sold that bag to a man! I recollect now. He said he wanted a strong and heavy one, and, after looking at several, he took this one. He wanted a reduction because the leather was chafed, on one corner, and I took off fifty cents. That, and the fact of the cost mark being blurred, makes me remember it now.”
“And is there any way of telling to whom Miss Jones sold the other bag?” asked Larry.
“I’ll find out,” spoke Miss Mason. It did not take long for Miss Jones to show, by her sales slips, that the bag she had disposed of went to a well-known lady customer of the store.
“I guess that lets her out,” decided Larry. “But can you recollect what sort of a man it was to whom you sold this valise, Miss Mason?”
The girl was racking her memory, and trying hard to think. Larry was desperately nervous, for he felt, after all his work, that he was at last on the beginning of the trail. Most unexpectedly he had hit upon it.
“Try! Try!” he whispered to Miss Mason.
She smiled at him.
“I’d like to oblige you,” she said, “for you were very kind to me. But I don’t want to give you misleading information.”
“No, that would be worse than none,” declared Larry. “But if I could get some sort of description of the man, I might be able to——”
Suddenly Miss Mason clutched the arm of the young reporter. They were alone in an aisle of the trunk department, for the other girls had gone to different parts of the floor.
“Look! Look!” the girl whispered. “If this isn’t a coincidence! I never could have described the man to you who purchased that valise, for I haven’t a very good memory for faces, but, unless I’m greatly mistaken, there he stands now!”
She pointed to a man with his back toward herself and Larry. A man who, even from this unsatisfactory view, seemed strangely familiar to the young reporter.
“There he is! There’s the man who bought the valise!” whispered Miss Mason.