"I came to inspect the branch," said Castle, quickly, looking Evan in the eye as he pushed past him into the office.
The teller's hopes fell. He thought the inspector was going to take him aside and ask him all the particulars of his loss. He would have had to tell them—and he wanted to. It flashed across his mind that had Castle come in answer to his (Evan's) letter, it would have been sooner. Why had the inspector allowed two weeks to elapse?
"Where is Mr. Penton?" asked Mr. Castle, when a light had been turned on in the office.
"He's giving a party to-night, sir," said Nelson.
"Is that so? Well, we won't interrupt it. You might just ask him to come out for a moment and open up. Where is the rest of the staff?"
"They are in there, too."
"Good; we can set right to work."
Evan took Penton aside and whispered the news. The manager paled slightly and his colorless eyes looked queer; but a flush suddenly overspread his face, and he said:
"Couldn't have come at a better time. We're entertaining the best customers in town."
He greeted Castle with an affectation of great friendliness. It was well done. Penton surely was an artist at deception.