"If I had only gone to the bank early it might have been different," said Mrs. Hardy. "As it was, I got there only a few minutes before three o'clock, and by the time I got in touch with the police and by the time they had tried to trace the man here and later found where he had gone—you know how slow they are—it was too late."
"I guess there's no chance of seeing him back in two days with the rug he wanted to sell you," observed Frank. "Either he is in league with the counterfeiters or else he was stung himself for a lot of counterfeit money and decided to get rid of it as smoothly as possible."
Mrs. Hardy was downcast.
"I should have been on my guard," she said. "There has been so much of this bad money going around that I should have been on watch for it, especially with a big sum like eight hundred dollars. It's my own fault, I suppose, but it's hard to lose that much money." She glanced at the heap of bills on the table. "It's not worth the paper it's printed on."
Frank picked up one of the bills and examined it.
"Looks just like the five that the fellow passed on to Joe and me at the station," he commented, testing the quality of the paper. "It comes from the same source, I'll bet."
"Eight hundred dollars!" Joe exclaimed. "That's the biggest haul yet. I'd like to have that rug merchant by the back of the neck right this minute. I'd shake the eight hundred out of him in a hurry."
"I guess there's not much chance of catching him now. He has sold the rugs and made his getaway."
Mrs. Hardy was silent. She felt the loss of the valuable rug very keenly, and still more keenly did she feel the ignominy of having been imposed upon after all the warnings that had been circulated regarding counterfeit money. But the rug merchant had been so plausible, and as she was an unsuspecting woman by nature, she had never for a moment considered the possibility of trickery.
"We'll go down and have a chat with the police," said Frank, getting up. "Although I'm afraid it won't do any good."