“Your pardon,” said he, in a quick tone. “But I hear you have been somewhat exercised of late over the disappearance of certain bonds from one of the boxes in the Madison Bank. I am a detective, and in the course of my duty have come upon a few facts that may help to explain matters.”
Mr. Sylvester and Bertram at once started forward; this was a topic that demanded their attention as well as that of the master of the house.
The man cast them a quick look from behind his goggles, and seeming to recognize them, included them in his next question.
“What do you think of the watchman, Fanning?”
“Think? we don’t think,” uttered Mr. Stuyvesant sharply. “He has been in the employ of the bank for twelve years, and we know him to be honest.”
“Yet he is the man who stole your bonds.”
“Impossible!”
“The very man.”
Mr. Sylvester stepped up to him. “Who are you, and how do you know this?”
“I have said my name is Cummins, and I know this, because I have wormed myself into the man’s confidence and have got the bonds, together with his confession, here in my pocket.” And he drew out the long lost bonds, which he handed to their owner, with a bit of paper on which was in-scribed in the handwriting of the watchman, an acknowledgment to the effect that he, alone and unassisted, had perpetrated the robbery which had raised such scandal in the bank and led to the disappearance of Hopgood.