CHAPTER XII.
THE BOOKKEEPER'S CONFESSION.
Late that same evening, Sturgis returned to his lodgings, after a busy day spent in working upon the Knickerbocker bank case. He was tired and he was perplexed; for, with all his unflagging energy, his quick intelligence and his plodding perseverance, he had come to a standstill in his investigation. The Evening Tempest had appeared with no further mention of the Quinlan case, and with only a perfunctory report of the Cab Mystery, no attempt having been made to connect the two, for Sturgis would not consent to publish his evidence until he was sure of complete success in his undertaking.
As he approached the house, the reporter saw a light in his window, and inferred that a visitor was awaiting his coming. It was Mr. Dunlap, who, pale and care-worn, was striding nervously back and forth in the room, with his hands behind his back and his head bent forward upon his breast.
"Ah, there you are at last!" exclaimed the banker eagerly; "I have been waiting for you for over an hour."
"Has something new turned up?" asked Sturgis.
"Yes; read that."
At the same time Dunlap handed the reporter a letter.
"Let me tell you about it first. After leaving you this morning, I went to the morgue and saw the body. You were right; it is Arbogast's. I had been only half convinced by your evidence; but I now saw that you were probably right in all your other inductions, and I became anxious to learn something definite concerning the amount of Arbogast's defalcation. As I could not reach the books for some time, I called upon Mrs. Arbogast, thinking I might be able to learn something from her. You had not been to see her, had you?"