Brady, who heard this talk, did not share this opinion. The scared, worried face of Riggs had been haunting him for an hour. And he followed the president into the banking room just in time to see Paul Foote end an earnest conversation with Riggs and pass out of the the gate, closely scrutinized by the two special officers in plain clothes who stood there, although they made no move to stop him.
Bill Brady whistled as he saw this.
“I’m beginning to see daylight,” he muttered, to himself. “I guess Mr. Merriwell and I may be able to do a lot of explaining before this thing is cleared up.”
He looked at his watch, and put it back in his pocket with an impatient gesture.
“It’s time I heard from the governor,” he said. “He isn’t usually so slow about answering an important telegram. However, it may have been delayed in reaching him.”
Then he turned to Riggs and Bromlow.
“Riggs, my boy,” said the president, laying his hand on the clerk’s shoulder with a paternal gesture. “We’ve got to ask you to explain an item in your books that isn’t quite clear. There seems to be a shortage of a thousand dollars. I’m quite sure that it is all right, and that you will be able to make the whole matter clear, eh?”
“It’s a shame he doesn’t act that way with Jim Phillips,” said Brady, under his breath, and with some indignation. “He’s trying his best to make a man who is surely innocent appear guilty, and to clear a man who seems to be guilty. I’m afraid he’s about outlived his usefulness as a bank president.”
“I have not had time to get my books properly up to date,” said Riggs. “Usually, at this time of the year, I put in quite a lot of time working at night to catch up, but I have been delayed by illness. But I’m sure, sir, that there can be nothing wrong that a little work will not straighten out.”
“You can have all the time you want, Riggs,” said Bromlow. “I have every confidence in you. If there is an error, it is probably only technical. Go back to your work now. We will straighten out the matter of the thousand dollars later.”