“I am sure that you, at least, must be very kind,” returned Auntie Sue, gently. And the cheeks of the experienced officer flushed like the cheeks of a schoolboy.
“Mr. Ross, Auntie Sue,” said the Sheriff, “is, as I was telling you, one of William J. Burns's big men.”
Auntie Sue gave her attention to her big friend: “Yes?”
The Sheriff continued: “Now, the Burns people, you see, protect the banks all over the country.”
“Yes?” came, again, in a tone so low and gentle that the monosyllable was scarcely heard.
The officer's loud voice went on: “And Mr. Ross, here, works most of his time on these bank cases. Just now, he is trailing a fellow that got away with a lot of money from the Empire Consolidated Savings Bank, of Chicago, about a month ago;—that is, the man disappeared about a month ago. He had been stealing along from the bank for about a year,—worked, for them, you see.”
“The Empire Consolidated Savings Bank!” Auntie Sue spoke the words in a voice that was little more than a whisper. It was to the Empire Consolidated Savings Bank that she had sent the money which she had received from her brother in Buenos Aires; and Homer T. Ward, the president of that bank, was one of her old pupils. Why, her stranger guest, in the other room there, was that very moment wearing one of the bank president's nightshirts.
“And do you”—Auntie Sue addressed the detective—“do you know the man's name, Mr. Ross?”
“Oh, yes,” returned the officer, “his name is Brian Kent.”
Some source of strength, deep-hidden in her gentle nature, enabled Auntie Sue to control her emotions, though her voice broke a little as she slowly repeated the man's name, “Brian Kent. And do I understand, sir, that you have traced the man to this—neighborhood?”