"Some time—perhaps on Friday afternoon or early evening—this tramp I speak of crept into the cellar when the basement door of the schoolhouse was open, with the intention of sleeping beside the furnace. In the morning he slips upstairs and hides from the janitor and keeps in hiding when the four committeemen appear.
"He sees the trays of coins," continued Frank Bowman, waxing enthusiastic with his own story, "and while the committeemen are downstairs, and before Nelson comes in, he takes the coins."
"Why before Nelson entered?" asked Janice sharply.
"Because Nelson tells me that he did not see the trays on the table in the committee room when he looked in there. The thief had removed them, and then put the trays back. Had Nelson seen them he would have stopped to examine the coins, at least. You see, they were brought over from Middletown and delivered to Massey, who kept them in his safe all night. Nelson never laid eyes on them."
"I see! I see!" murmured Janice.
"So this fellow stole the coins and slipped out of the building with them. They may even be melted down and sold for old gold by this time; although that would scarcely be possible. At any rate, the committee will have to satisfy the owner of the collection. That is sure."
"And that is going to make them all just as mad as they can be," declared the girl. "They want to blame somebody——"
"And they have blamed Nelson. It remains that he must prove himself innocent—before public opinion, not before a court. There they have to prove guilt. He is guilty already in the eyes of half of Polktown. No chance of waiting to be proved guilty before he is considered so."
Janice flushed and her answer came sharply: "And how about the other half of Polktown?"
"We may be evenly divided—fifty-fifty," and Bowman laughed grimly. "But the ones who believe—or say that they believe—Nelson Haley guilty, will talk much louder than those who deny."