CHAPTER XVTHE THOUSAND-DOLLAR BILL
Harrison Witherbyshowed no surprise when, a little later that afternoon, a messenger summoned him to the private office of the bank president. But if he was calm and collected over it, the other clerks and employees were not.
“Say, I’ll wager something is up,” whispered one of the bookkeepers to another.
“Shouldn’t wonder,” was the answer. “About the robbery, too.”
“That’s right! It’s a shame it hasn’t been solved before, so that every one isn’t under suspicion.”
“It sure is, but I don’t see how Witherby could have taken the valise. He had no chance.”
“There’s no telling. I thought that reporter fellow on theLeaderwas going to solve this thing in jig style, but I guess he isn’t any better than any one else.”
“That’s so. Well, I wonder what Witherby is in for?”
The suspected bank clerk showed no surprise when given the assignment that would take himout of town over-night. He had often gone on such errands before, and if, on this occasion, it interfered with his plans, he did not betray that fact.
“I want you to see this bank president,” said Mr. Bentfield, naming one who was the head of an institution some distance from New York, in a small country town. “Tell him I have agreed to his proposition about that loan, and about acting as his correspondent for the Metropolitan section. I’ll give you the papers for him to sign.”
“Very well, Mr. Bentfield. I’ll start to-night, as soon as I can go out to my boarding place.”
“No, I don’t believe you have time for that,” said the bank president quickly, for Larry had suggested this possibility: that, if Witherby was sent out of town, he would not come back; and if he had the million dollars hidden at his boarding place he would take the cash away with him. He must not be allowed, therefore, to go to his room until after the search.
“There is a train leaving the Grand Central station in a few minutes,” said Mr. Bentfield. “You can catch it by taking a taxicab. Here is money for your expenses, in case you need it, and if you want a change of clothing buy it, and put it on your expense bill. I want you to see this bank official to-night, if possible. I’ll telegraph him that you are coming, but you would miss him if you took a later train, and you’d have to, if you went out to your boarding-house.”
“Very well,” assented the bank clerk, and his manner was not at all disturbed, as he took the cash for his expenses.
“Well, if he had anything to do with the robbery of the million dollars he’s the coolest person I ever had any dealings with,” thought Mr. Bentfield. “He certainly is a good actor. But though I hope we find out who the guilty one is, and get the money back, I should dislike to learn that it was Witherby. Certainly he has his faults, but I think he is a good young man—or he was before he was tempted and fell—if he did.”
A little later Larry reached the bank again, and was closeted with the president.
“Well, I’ve got Witherby out of the way,” Mr. Bentfield remarked. “Now to make the search. Did you succeed in getting the warrant giving us permission to look through his room?” he asked of the lawyer, who was also present.
“I had to arrange for it by telephone. It will be waiting for us in Hackenford. It is going to be rather a delicate piece of work, Mr. Bentfield. It is sure to arouse suspicion in the mind of Mr. Witherby as soon as he learns of it.”
“I’ll fix it so he won’t know of it,” exclaimed Larry.
“How?” inquired the lawyer.
“Well, as soon as I have the necessary legal permission, I’ll go to Mrs. Boland, the landlady, and tell her what I propose doing. I’ll tell her it is necessary, for the reputation of her house,that it be kept quiet, and that, when Witherby returns, he shall not even get a hint that his room has been entered.”
“But he’ll see his things disturbed,” suggested the bank president.
“I intend to do the searching all by myself,” said Larry. “I’ll put everything back where I find it.”
“But the other boarders in the house,” came from the lawyer. “They will surely suspect something.”
“Not if I can get Mrs. Boland to help me. I’ll see her alone, explain what I want, and suggest that I’d like to see our suspect and that I be allowed to wait for Witherby in his room. I can pretend to be a sort of acquaintance, who wants to see him, you know. Then I can make my search and get away. If I find nothing suspicious, that will end it. If I get a clew, then——”
“An arrest will follow!” exclaimed Mr. Bentfield. “Justice must be done, no matter what the result. The bank owes it to itself, and the other clerks, who are under an unjust suspicion, must be cleared, Larry, the quicker this is over with the better.”
The young reporter lost no time in starting for Hackenford. He planned to reach it before the other boarders came home to supper, as that would make his task easier. The lawyer went with him to secure the search-warrant, and then returned to New York.
Mrs. Boland, the landlady, was much surprised to see again the young man who had been present on the other sensational occasion, when the sneak-thief was discovered.
“Did you come back about a room?” she asked Larry.
“Not exactly,” he said. “I must see you in private,” he added, as he saw a servant standing in the dining-room.
“Is anything wrong—has anything happened?” asked the boarding mistress when they were alone. Larry briefly told her of the suspicions against Witherby, and his desire to search his room, at the same time showing the necessary authority.
“Oh, to think of that!” cried Mrs. Boland. “A million dollars in my house!”
“It may not be here,” suggested Larry, with a smile. “I hope it is, but I have my doubts. Still, I may get a clew. I must ask you to be silent about my visit here.”
Overawed by the search-warrant and the magnitude of the case, the landlady readily promised to say nothing to a soul. She would also keep from Witherby, on his return, the fact that his room had been entered.
“I’ll go up to it now, before any of the other lodgers come home,” suggested Larry, and he was shown to the apartment which might hold the solution of the mystery.
Mrs. Boland left the young reporter alone. Larry went at his work systematically. He hadoften been with the police, or detectives, when they searched the rooms of other suspected persons, and he knew pretty well how to proceed.
For an hour or more Larry went over everything, looking in bureau and desk drawers, in the trunk, under the carpet—in fact, in any place where money might be concealed.
“It can’t be in any small place,” argued Larry, “for the bundles of bills are rather bulky. Still, he may have divided them, and hidden a few each in many places.”
He renewed his search, being careful to keep the room in the same order as he found it, but he was unsuccessful. He was about to give up, regretfully, and he had already begun to formulate new clews in his mind, when from the bottom of a bureau drawer he picked up a small book. At the sight of it Larry started, for it was a book, or catalogue, from a concern dealing in false beards, wigs and other theatrical disguises.
“This is where he got his ideas of false moustaches from,” thought Larry. Idly he leafed the book. Something fluttered from between two pages to the floor.
The young reporter stooped to pick it up, and he could hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes when he saw, lying on the floor, a thousand-dollar bill!
“Great Scott!” whispered Larry. “It’s real!”
He fingered it, thinking for the moment thatit might be “stage money.” But his touch told him that it was genuine.
“What have I found? What have I found?” he murmured. “The stolen million was all in thousand-dollar bills! Is this the only one left?”
As he stood in the middle of the floor, holding the bill in his fingers, there was a step in the hall outside.