"What d'ye think of it? What d'ye think, Tobias?" demanded Ezra Crouch of the lightkeeper when the latter approached the scene. "Ain't it a shame—a rascally shame? That Arad Thompson——"
"I hadn't heard tell that Arad burgled his own bank. Did he, Ez?"
"Wal, no. I dunno as he did," admitted the much-wrought-upon Mr. Crouch, who had never deposited a dollar in the bank in all his shiftless career and probably never would. "But Arad's responserble, ain't he?"
"I cal'late," agreed Tobias mildly. "Guess we better give him a chance to straighten things out——"
"I guess you ain't heard much about it, Tobias," interrupted the busy-tongued Ezra. "Something mighty funny about this robbery. Arad called in all the money he could an' seemed to get his cash-drawer crammed with it, jest so's 'twould make a good haul for these burglars. A hundred and forty thousand dollars! My!"
"Does seem a whole lot o' money to take chances with," admitted Tobias.
"Huh! And why does Arad, fust-off, telegraph to some feller they call a 'bank examiner' and get him down here on the airly train? And why does he shut the bank up as tight as a herrin' can and put a sign on the door? That's what I want to know."
"Time'll tell. I wouldn't get excited if I was you, Ez," advised the lightkeeper soothingly.
"Wal, that Arad Thompson——"
"I know. We got to watch him—and that wheel chair. Where is he?"