“Well, I’ve got an idea,” went on Tom’s chum, “that Sandow would like to get control of part of Dr. Spidderkins’ money. He’s got slathers of it, as I said, and I don’t believe he knows where it all is. He’s as careless about cash as he is about other things, dad says. Forgets what he does with his rocks.”
“How do you know Sandow would like to get hold of it,” asked Tom.
“Well, Sandow does some business through our firm. Not much, though. He’s a ‘piker.’”
“What’s a ‘piker’?”
“That’s what we call a chap that buys a few shares of stock at a time. Small business, you know. Well, Sandow does a little business with us, and I heard him telephoning to our junior partner one day, giving an order for a few shares. Mr. Fletcher, that’s the junior partner, asked him why he didn’t buy more, and I heard Sandow say he couldn’t, as he didn’t have the money. Then I heard him laugh, sort of queer-like, and he said he might have more soon. Mr. Fletcher asked him where he was going to get it, and Sandow said he expected to get it from a friend of the family. Mr. Fletcher asked him if he meant Dr. Spidderkins, and Sandow only laughed. That’s all I heard.”
“Can you hear what both people say over the wire?”
“Sure, when you cut in on the switchboard. I have to keep listening, to tell when they’re finished, ’cause there’s most always somebody waitin’ for our wire.”
“So you think Sandow is trying to get part of the old doctor’s money?” asked Tom.
“That’s my idea,” replied Charley. “I guess it wouldn’t be so hard, either, for the doctor’s so forgetful he might have a hundred or five hundred dollars one minute, and not find it the next, and he wouldn’t know what become of it.”
There came at once to Tom’s mind the scene he had witnessed that evening in the doctor’s home—the confusion about the money, and the puzzled air of the physician—when he could not find it in his wallet.