Hawkins' jaw had dropped as he stared at John Bruce.
“Crang did it! You—you say Crang committed that robbery?” stammered Paul Veniza. “But you were unconscious! Still you—you seem to know that the safe was robbed!”
“Apparently I do!” John Bruce laughed shortly. “Crang too thought I was unconscious, but to make sure he jabbed me with his needle. It took effect just at the right time—for Crang—just as you and Claire appeared in the doorway. And”—his brows knitted together—“it seems a little strange that none of you have ever mentioned it in my presence; that not a word has ever been said to me about it.”
Paul Veniza coughed nervously.
“You were sick,” he said; “too sick, we thought, for any excitement.”
Hawkins suddenly leaned forward; his wrinkled face was earnest.
“That is not true!” he said bluntly. “It might have been at first, but it wasn't after you got better. It was mostly your money that was stolen. Claire put it there the night you came here, and——”
“Hawkins!” Paul Veniza called out sharply in reproof.
“But he knows now it's gone,” said the old cabman a little helplessly. He blundered on: “Paul felt he was responsible for your money, and he was afraid you might not want to take it if you knew he had to make it up out of his own pocket, and——”
John Bruce took a step forward, and laid his hand on Paul Veniza's shoulder. He stood silently, looking at the other.