A REMARKABLE BIT OF INTELLIGENCE
"You certainly beat anything I ever saw when it comes to downright luck, and that's the truth, Dick," said Mr. Winslow, as he stepped out and joined the other when banking hours were done; which on this day was not until an unusually late hour.
"I am beginning to think so myself. There was that incident of the precious kitten which I saved from drowning, and through that secured my position in the bank; and to-day I was fortunate enough just to be Johnny on the spot when some one was needed to jump on that little blaze and put it out," returned the boy, wondering why the teller had waited to see him, and anticipating some news in connection with the matter they were planning in common.
"You are evidently monopolizing all the talent in that line just at present, so there is hardly any show for the rest of us. Hurry up and get through, Dick, so the field will be open. I can see easily enough that the firm name will some day be changed to 'Gibbs & Morrison'" went on Mr. Winslow, laughing.
"Don't look so far into the future, please; but tell me what there is new. I've been so busy to-day that I couldn't find time to see you. I understand that Mr. Graylock is in the hands of the assignee, and that his creditors will be lucky to get thirty cents on the dollar. Do you know anything about the missing securities, Mr. Winslow?" asked Dick, wishing to draw the conversation into a channel less personal.
"I only wish I did. But nevertheless, there's a chance that something may be done before long. I've interested Mr. Cheever in the matter," remarked the teller, looking down at his companion slily as he spoke, to see what effect his words had.
Dick appeared startled.
"Why, that's the bank examiner, isn't it? What on earth interest could he have in the matter at all? It would hardly be a part of his business to go around hunting up lost securities; and besides, was it wise to let him know that we have been careless in handling such things? It might give the bank a bad name, don't you think, Mr. Winslow?" he asked, quickly.
The teller laughed outright at this.
"You are showing wonderfully discreet abilities Richard, and I can easily prophesy a great future for you. It happened by the merest chance that I had met Mr. Cheever before, down in Boston, when he was known under another name," he said, mysteriously.
"What? Mr. Cheever—isn't that his real name, and he a bank examiner?"
"So-called just at present. Dick, he begged me not to say a word to any one in the bank, but I told him I must take you into my confidence, since we were working this thing together. He also declared that your suspicions might be well founded, and that he would take measures to investigate the interior of Mr. Graylock's home without that gentleman's knowledge."
Then light suddenly burst in upon Dick.
"I begin to see what you are hinting at—he is no bank examiner at all, but the officer Mr. Gibbs said he would have to send for!" he exclaimed.
"Exactly; a detective who is accustomed to handling such cases, and who was once a genuine bank examiner, so that he knows just how to go about these things so as not to excite the suspicions of bookkeeper or tellers. Payson does not suspect the truth, nor do any of the others. Indeed, I am not sure that even the cashier knows it. So you see he is able to work inside the bank without suspicion being aroused as to his real character. Of course, his idea was that it had been an inside job, for it really seemed impossible that any one outside could have taken the papers from the vault. As I said it happened that I knew him, and he immediately bound me to secrecy. But after I had a chance to talk with him this noon he drew around to our opinion, to the effect that the securities which Mr. Graylock claims were stolen from his packet never went into the safe at all!"
Dick was vastly interested in all this news.
He had never seen a real live detective in his whole life, and the way in which this smooth gentleman seemed to be working in his capacity as a regular bank examiner was simply wonderful, in his opinion.
"If all this is so I don't wonder that you told him what we suspected. And you say, Mr. Winslow that he took to the idea at once?" he asked, breathlessly.
"Like a hungry dog does to a bone. Said he was up a tree, for it didn't seem as if the thief could be any one in the bank, for not a trace had been left behind. He has met Mr. Graylock—the president attended to that, and I think that his opinion of the gentleman agrees with our own, and that he would not put it past one of his showing, under the peculiar conditions existing, to carry out such a clever little scheme to feather his own nest at the expense of his creditors. More than that Mr. Cheever says it is rather a chestnut, and has been worked often."
"But he did not happen to think of it?" interjected Dick.
"Oh! he says he would have come around to that idea after he had made positive that none of us poor beggars in the bank had purloined Mr. Graylock's bundle; but all the same he was mighty greedy to hear every detail of what happened that day. He said he would have a talk with you to-morrow, when he found a chance, seeing that I was bound to tell you about his dual character. It's a dead secret, remember, Richard."
"Certainly, sir; I shall not speak of it to any one, but my mother."
The teller looked doubtful at first, and then smiled.
"I guess it will be all right to take her into your confidence, since she seems to be a woman in ten thousand who can keep a secret; but be sure and impress this fact on her, Richard. You've had a great day of it, my boy, a wonderful day. Really I envy you the pleasure of telling how you received those honorable burns; and I'd give something to have a pretty girl tie up my hand in her own dainty kerchief."
"Now you're joshing me again, Mr. Winslow. Of course she and her mother felt as if they couldn't do enough for me; but then you know, that's the way with the women folks. I'd like to have run away you see, but I had to wait for the package Mr. Gibbs sent me after."
"You're altogether too modest, Dick. Most boys would have puffed out with pride after doing such a thing; but I like you all the better for it, my boy. Now, if that bank examiner finds a chance to talk with you to-morrow, just put him wise to all you know about the happenings of that day, especially as to what you saw at the time you peeked in through that blessed knothole—I use that word, you understand, because it is going to figure a whole lot in the final discovery of those missing securities. Don't forget, now."
"I certainly won't," replied Dick, accepting the hand of the friendly teller in his one good palm, and yet wincing with the pressure he received.
He anticipated with keenest pleasure his meeting with his mother, and wondered if those wise eyes of hers would note his color when she discovered the dainty kerchief of Bessie Gibbs pinned around his left hand—he meant to keep it always as a souvenir of that exciting time.
And so he came home at last.
Just as he expected she immediately discovered the fact of his having his hand bound up; for little news reached the rather secluded home of the widow, and no neighbor had chanced to hear the story of what had happened at the home of the banker.
"What is the matter—have you had an accident, son?" She exclaimed, taking his hand in hers.
Then she looked more closely, and he knew that she had noticed the kerchief.
"Don't worry, mother; it's only a little burn, nothing serious at all," he said.
"But who put this here—a lady's handkerchief, too? Something has happened, I can see it in your eyes. Tell me at once, Dick. What new danger have you been in now?" she went on, putting her arm around him as they walked toward the door.
"None at all, mother. There was just the littlest bit of fire, and I tore down the curtains and shade, never thinking of my hands. Why, it was all over in three seconds, I believe."
"Curtains—shade—where was this?" she asked, anxiously.
"At Mr. Gibbs' house. He sent me up after some papers, and I was just in time to jump in and play volunteer fireman. You see they insisted on doing my hand up in this ridiculous way, and made me promise not to take it off until you could dress it again to-night. But it doesn't amount to much, I give you my word, mother."
"Oh! come and sit down and tell me all about it. Supper can wait. I believe you have been in danger and won't say so for fear of frightening me. Did their beautiful home burn down—what a pity that would be? And what caused it all."
"One question at a time, mom. I might as well tell you the whole story, because I know I won't get a bite of supper until I do. But they made too much of such a little thing, sure they did."
So Dick in his own modest way related how he had happened to be at the door of the banker's house when the terrible accident occurred that might have caused a severe loss if the fire had been allowed to run riot; he even declared that he believed the flames would have died out even though no one had come; but the fond mother, reading between the lines, knew that she had good reason to feel proud of her boy that night, and in her heart she undoubtedly sent up prayers of gratitude that he had come through the incident with so little harm.
Dick kept his other news until the time when, as usual, they sat together on the little porch, Mrs. Morrison having bound up his hand again, and pretending not to notice how eagerly the lad secreted the little kerchief that was now in sore need of cleansing.
Then he told of the events of the day, and Mrs. Morrison hung on his words as if they thrilled her to the core; her boy was an actor in this strange little drama that was being gradually unfolded, and when the final scene was reached it would be found that Dick had had more than his share to do with the solving of the riddle as to what had become of Mr. Graylock's missing securities.