“Oh!—did he speak?” asked Lake. “How many robbers were there? Did he know any of them?”
“He didn’t see anybody—shot just as he reached the window. Hope some one hangs for this!” said Clarke. “Lake, I wish you’d have this money picked up—I’m not used to walking on gold—or else have me watched.”
Lake shook his head, angry at the untimely pleasantry. It was a pleasantry in effect only, put forward to hide uneditorial agitation and distress for Lars Porsena. Lake’s undershot jaw thrust forward; he fingered the blot of whisker at his ear. It was a time for action, not for talk. He began his campaign.
“Look here, sheriff! You ought to wire up and down the line to keep a lookout. Hold all suspicious characters. Then get a posse to ride for some sign round the town. If we only had something to go on—some clue! Later we’ll look through this town with a finetooth comb. Most likely they—or he, if there was only one—won’t risk staying here. First of all, I’ve got to telegraph to El Paso for money to stave off a run on the bank. You’ll help me, Thompson? Of course my burglar insurance will make good my loss—or most of it; but that’ll take time. We mustn’t risk a run. People lose their heads so. I’ll give you a statement for the Day, Clarke, as soon as I find out where Mr. Thompson stands.”
“I will back you up, sir. With the bulk of depositors’ money loaned out, no bank, however solvent, can withstand a continued run without backing. I shall be glad to tide you over if only for my own protection. A panic is contagious——”
“Thanks,” said Lake shortly, interrupting this stately financial discourse. “Then we shall do nicely.... Let’s see—to-morrow’s payday. You fellows”—he turned briskly to the two superintendents—“can’t you hold up your payday, say, until Saturday? Stand your men off. The company stands good for their money. They can wait a while.”
“No need to do that,” said Alec. “I’ll have the railroad checks drawn on St. Louis. The storekeepers’ll cash ’em. If necessary I’ll wire for authority to let Turnbull pay off the millhands with railroad checks. It’s just taking money from one pocket to put it in the other, anyhow.”
“Then that’s all right! Now for the robbers!” The banker’s face betrayed impatience. “My first duty was to protect my clients; but now we’ll waste no more time. You gentlemen make a close search for any possible scrap of evidence while the sheriff and I write our telegrams. I must wire the burglar insurance company, too.” He plunged a pen into an inkwell and fell to work.
Acting upon this hint, the sheriff took a desk. “Wish Phillips was here—my deputy,” he sighed. “I’ve sent for him. He’s got a better head than I have for noticing clues and things.” This was eminently correct as well as modest. The sheriff was a Simon-pure Arcadian, the company’s nominee; his deputy was a concession to the disgruntled Hinterland, where the unobservant rarely reach maturity.