He wondered if she knew about the missing money. Had Penton told her?
"You mean about—about drink?"
"Yes," she answered, vaguely; "there's nothing—else—is—there?"
No, she did not know about the silver. Why had Penton not told her? It seemed to Evan that she should have known about the loss, especially since her husband was putting up half of it. But he knew she would never suspect Penton of stealing, and therefore any reference to the shortage would be incomprehensible to her. If she thought the teller suspected her husband she would be heartbroken. Evan's thoughts flew. After all, he had no proof that the manager had taken the silver, and before he voiced his suspicion to Mrs. Penton, or head office either, he must have proof.
She stood gazing at him, waiting for his promise. She looked so girlish and dependent he forgot danger and only remembered that a woman's happiness was at stake. It gave him a heroic impulse.
"I'll do all I can, Mrs. Penton," he said, quietly. "Things seem to have started off smoothly, and I think everything will be all right."
The young woman was in a party dress and a party humor. She took Evan's hands in her own and pressed them. "You are a dear," she whispered, and fluttered back to her guests.
Evan hated Penton at that moment more, perhaps, than he ever had—though not so much as he would hate him. The young wife's faith resolved the teller, however, to watch the manager instead of telling head office about his drunkenness. It was hardly likely Penton would get another chance to rob the cash; he was a coward and would be afraid to try again.
It surprised the teller to know that Mr. Castle would take a drink, particularly with Penton. Was it a trick of the inspector's? If it was, he would approach the teller before going back to Toronto. Evan would let it rest at that. He would not take the initiative, both on account of Castle's peculiar actions and Mrs. Penton's pleading.
At 2 a.m. Henty swore. It was a pretty early orgy, but A. P. probably felt justified, at that.