Even had Barrows known of this conversation, it would not have worried him. Like Harding’s political friend, he thought that he was safe from pursuit. He spent his money as he liked, without a thought of the careless way in which he was changing hundred-dollar bills. And, less than thirty-six hours after he had reached New York with Bascom, he was offering one of his yellow bills in payment for a handful of cigars, when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and a detective, well known to him by sight, told him that he was under arrest.
“Quit your kidding!” said Barrows. “You can’t arrest me. You’ve got nothing on me.”
“I’ve got a warrant, issued on the request of the New Haven police,” said the detective, with a grin. “This is the time you’ve missed your guess, Barrows. The warrant charges the robbery of five thousand dollars from the Elm National Bank.”
Bascom escaped. But Barrows, despite his best efforts, was forced to believe that there was no chance for him. His political influence had disappeared—Harding had seen to that—and he found that it was useless to fight his removal to Connecticut, where a jail sentence was sure to be his portion. The New York police are excellent workers. When they are free from political influence, against which, in the old days, they were helpless, they are efficient and fearless. And in this case, the words of Bromlow, meant to apply to Jim Phillips, were the death knell of his hopes. Two thieves had fallen out, and it was time for honest men to reap the rewards of their honesty.
The proceedings in New Haven were simple and direct. Dick Merriwell had kept the numbers of all the bills that he had deposited in the New Haven bank, a simple precaution not always taken even by business men when they are handling large sums, but never neglected by him. And the evidence that he gave was ample to show that the money he had deposited was perfectly good. Suspicion, thus directed toward Riggs, showed the extent of the plot. It was soon made plain that Riggs had falsified the numbers of all the bills in the vaults of the bank, and it was plain that it had been the intention of Barrows and his fellow plotters to substitute counterfeit money for all of that huge sum. Thus detection of the theft, one of the greatest ever planned, would have been delayed long enough to put the stolen money into circulation all over the country, and it would have been impossible to trace any of it, since the bank had none of the numbers of the genuine bills.
Riggs, seeing the evidence piling up, confessed his original theft, and his share in the greater conspiracy, and thus the New Haven police secured evidence which resulted in the closing up of Marsten’s gambling place and his swift departure for parts unknown. The New Haven police had long hunted for evidence against him, but had never before been able to get any that was worth anything in court. Foote, too, appalled at the extent of the conspiracy thus revealed, confessed, and the notes signed by him and held by Marsten, which had been abandoned in his hasty flight, were destroyed.
In view of the valuable evidence he was able to give against Barrows, Riggs got only a suspended sentence for his own robbery, and Brady’s father, urged by his son and Dick Merriwell, saw that the teller received a place where he would be removed from temptation to steal. Barrows was sentenced to five years in prison, being convicted without difficulty, since the complete collapse of his plans left him friendless and powerless.
Jim Phillips was completely cleared when the watchman, after treatment in the hospital, was again called upon to identify him, his story being confirmed in every detail. The watchman told of Jim’s effort to release him, and of as much of the fight as he had seen, and even Bromlow was forced to admit that Jim’s baseball training had saved the bank.