The reporter vouchsafed no reply to this question, but asked another.
"Is Thursday a general cleaning day at the bank?"
"Yes," answered the banker. "Every evening, after the closing hour, the floors are swept, of course, and the desks are dusted; but Mondays and Thursdays are reserved for washing the windows, scrubbing the floors, and so forth."
"Then it is lucky that yesterday was Thursday," observed Sturgis. "Will you please hand me the key to this gate, and that to the inner door."
Upon entering the bank, Sturgis requested his companion to seat himself on a particular chair, which he designated. He then began a critical examination of the premises. Inch by inch he scrutinized the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling; sometimes with the naked eye, sometimes through the magnifying glass. He also constantly brought into play a tape measure; and several times he called upon Dunlap for assistance, when the distances to be measured were longer than his reach.
The Wall Street entrance of the Knickerbocker bank led directly into the space to which the public was admitted. This space was partitioned off, as usual, from the bookkeepers' and cashier's departments. At the farther end, a door led into a reception room communicating with the president's office. This office itself opened into the cashier's department on one side; and on the other, into a small room occupied by the president's secretary and typewriter, and into the vestibule of the Exchange Place entrance to the bank. On the right of the vestibule was a large room in which the bank employés kept their street clothing, and to which they could retire when they were off duty. A door from the clerks' room led into the cashier's department; while another one opened into the private secretary's room.
After he had finished his inspection of the space open to the public, Sturgis, followed by Dunlap, passed into the president's reception room, and thence in turn into the other rooms, and finally into the cashier's and bookkeepers' departments.
Several times he stopped, retraced his footsteps to some particular point, and then began his search anew. At times he crawled about on his hands and knees; at others, he climbed upon the furniture, the better to examine some spot upon the wall. In the president's office he stopped to pick up a great number of tiny scraps of paper, which lay in and around the waste-basket. These he carefully placed in an envelope which he laid upon the president's table.
On one side of the room there stood a magnificent old-fashioned carved mantel-piece. The artistic beauty of the structure did not seem to strike Sturgis; but he appeared to derive a great deal of satisfaction from an inspection of the large tiled hearth. Presently, removing his coat and his cuffs, he plunged his hand into the grimy chimney and removed a handful of soot, which he examined carefully and then threw away. He repeated the operation again and again; until at last, with evident satisfaction, he picked out a small object, which he deposited in an envelope. Then, after washing his hands in the clerks' room, he passed into the cashier's department. In a corner stood the telephone closet, the door of which was open. The receiver of the instrument was down. The reporter took it up and gazed at it long and earnestly.
Sturgis's examination of the bank must have lasted over two hours. At first Richard Dunlap looked on with a mild curiosity, in which amusement struggled with good-natured skepticism. But, as time wore on, the banker began to show signs of impatience; and when at last Sturgis returned to the private office and carefully deposited upon a sheet of white paper a miscellaneous assortment of tiny scraps and shreds, the banker could scarcely conceal his dissatisfaction.