"And she went on? Bound for 'Frisco, it is likely."
Frank had not said she went on. He explained that he met a friend at Reno, and that was how he happened to leave the express; that friend was coming to Carson, and that was how he happened to come to Carson.
He did not tell that they had followed the girl to Carson, had shadowed her to the house where she had stopped, and that his companion or himself had watched that house constantly, ever since.
"Bart is watching it now," he told himself. "She can't get away. She must explain to me how that bogus money came into her possession. I believe I know! The man with the black mustache must have given it to her!"
That the man with the sinister mustache was a villain he did not doubt, but he still doubted that the girl was anything but what she seemed—young, innocent, incapable of crime.
The cashier spoke a low word to one of his companions, and a sudden fear came upon Frank. Was the man ordering his arrest? He could not afford to be detained and bothered at that time. How would he solve the mystery if they placed him under arrest?
But Frank had nerve, and he would not take to his heels, knowing such an act would make it seem certain that he was guilty.
The receiving teller spoke sharply to the cashier, seemingly urging him to some action; but the boy heard the cashier reply:
"It will spoil the whole thing to be too hasty."
"The boy can be made to peach on the gang," said the teller, in a guarded tone.