"All the same it is true. His name is Frank Patterson, and he used to live here in Riverview," asserted the boy.
"I remember such a boy; but that does not prove your assertion by any means. Do you know I can telegraph to that office and discover the truth?"
He was watching the face of the other closely, expecting him to look anxious; on the contrary Dick smiled broadly as he immediately answered:
"I wish you would, then, Mr. Goodwyn, or get them on the long distance 'phone. I would like to ask you one thing, first, sir; it might save you the expense of such a call."
"Well, what is it?" coldly.
"I said that the letter was torn out of my hand by a sudden gust of wind, and carried over the fence toward the river, and that I had no time just then to try and find it again?"
"Yes, that is what you told us as near as I can remember—go on."
"If that letter could be found on the meadow somewhere, and brought to you, sir, would it help clear me in your eyes?" anxiously.
The cashier considered.
"It might go a long ways toward making me believe you spoke the truth about having a friend in that office; the contents of the letter might also help. But I could not think of letting you go after it by yourself, you understand," as a sudden suspicion flashed into his mind that Dick might manufacture some sort of letter and try and palm it off for the original.