Mechanically the teller went over the additions in his blotter. That was always the first thing to do in a cash difference that looked like a mistake in addition. The blotter was found correct. Next came the vouchers. Penton worked assiduously on them with the teller. His mind somewhat clarified by checking, Evan began to think. Penton had said it was impossible to pay out one hundred dollars too much over the counter in silver—as it was. If he could trace the silver back to when the cash had been checked before, the difference could easily be located in the silver. He offered the suggestion. The manager made a gesture of impatience.
"I tell you," he said, "there must be a mistake somewhere; either in your work, or else you paid out one hundred dollars too much in bills and—you've been counting the silver wrong for days or weeks, that's it!"
Nelson knew he had not. Fortunately for him the manager had checked the cash a week before, and initialed it as correct. While Penton followed with his eyes, Evan ran over his cash-statement book, showing the decrease in silver each day to be about twenty-five dollars. Market days always took about one hundred and twenty-five dollars. But there was a falling off between Monday and Tuesday this week of two hundred and twenty-eight dollars.
Penton stared glassily a moment, as the boys had often seen him do. Then his cunning came to the rescue, as it always did.
"That bag you have been counting as five hundred dollars has only contained four packages. The loss is away back somewhere, and this is a coincidence. There has been a double error."
Evan knew differently, but felt that he could not say anything plausible. He was silent. Penton waited a moment before remarking:
"It'll come pretty hard on you, old man, with your salary."
So diabolically triumphant was Penton's tone that it filled Nelson with a horror.
"I'll quit the bank before I'll put it up," he said, gutturally.
"That would make things look suspicious," replied Penton.