Without waiting to enjoy his triumph, Paul put his hand in his pocket and took out two squares of bluish paper.
"There," he said, as he handed one to his father, "there is a blue print of the man taken in this office at ten minutes past three yesterday afternoon, just as he was about to open the safe in the corner. You see he is kneeling with his hand on the lock, but apparently just then something alarmed him and he cast a hasty glance over his shoulder. At that second the photograph was taken, and so we have a full-face portrait of the man."
Mr. Whittier had looked at the photograph, and he now passed it to the impatient hand of the junior partner.
"You see, Mr. Wheatcroft," Paul continued, "that although the face in the photograph bears a certain family likeness to Major Van Zandt's, all the same that is not a portrait of the Major. The man who was here yesterday was a young man, a man young enough to be the Major's son!"
The old book-keeper looked at the speaker.
"Mr. Paul," he began, "you won't be hard on the——" then he paused abruptly.
"I confess I don't understand this at all!" declared Mr. Wheatcroft, irascibly.
"I am afraid that I do understand it," Mr. Whittier said, with a glance of compassion at the Major.
"There," Paul continued, handing his father a second azure square, "there is a photograph taken here ten minutes after the first, at 3.20 yesterday afternoon. That shows the safe open and the young man standing before it with the private letter-book in his hand. As his head is bent over the pages of the book, the view of the face is not so good. But there can be no doubt that it is the same man. You see that, don't you, Mr. Wheatcroft?"
"I see that, of course," returned Mr. Wheatcroft, forcibly. "What I don't see is why the Major here should confess if he isn't guilty!"