She thrust herself resolutely through the group of men and made a frenzied survey of the bank's interior. Her single quest was for Vaniman; he was nowhere in sight. The books of account were open on the desk, mute evidence for her that he had been interrupted suddenly.
She voiced demands in shrill tones, but the men had no information for her. She called his name wildly and there was no reply.
“I found the outside door open,” said Dorsey, raucously hoarse. “I came in, and all was just as you see it.”
“But you said that he—that Frank—” Vona pressed her hands against her throat; she could not voice the terrible announcement that Dorsey had made.
“Well, if it ain't that, what else is it?” insisted the watchman.
Then Tasper Britt arrived in the room, followed by the bank examiner; they entered, breathing heavily and running with the tread of Percherons.
“If it ain't murder and robbery, what is it, Mr. Britt?” Dorsey bawled, evidently feeling the authority was then on the scene and was demanding report and action.
“I don't know—I don't know!” the president quavered, staggering to the grille and clutching the wires with both hands in order to steady himself. He was palpably, unmistakably stricken with a fear that was overpowering him.
The outer office was filling; the corridor was being packed by the arriving throngs.
Examiner Starr took command of the situation. He noted the nickel badge on Dorsey's breast. “Officer, put every person except Mr. Britt out of this building!”