Harding left the room, glancing at the message as he crossed the passage. It required no answer, as Eustace had said. It was very brief.
"Inspector Wallace will take charge."
Harding whistled. Wallace was the senior inspector of the service, and his special faculty was the unravelling of tangled accounts and the detection of defaulting managers and cashiers. Leaving the ordinary inspection of branches to his juniors, Wallace only journeyed from the head office to take charge when grave suspicions were entertained as to the integrity of a branch staff. The telegram was tantamount to an intimation that the authorities of the bank did not regard the robbery as the work of an outsider.
As he re-entered the office, Brennan was standing at the entrance with Johnson.
"No answer," Harding said quietly, and Johnson nodded and went off. Brennan turned and crossed to the counter.
"Is Mr. Eustace about?" he asked.
"He is talking to Mrs. Burke in the dining-room. She's rather excited, and he took her in there because she would shout so. He'll be back in a few minutes, unless you want to tell him something particularly at once," Harding answered.
Brennan glanced at a telegram he held in his hand.
"It will do when he comes out," he answered slowly. "Have you had any word?" he added, as he leant over the counter.
"The head office wires that Inspector Wallace—our bank inspector, that is, not one of your police inspectors—is coming up."