“I had nearly a thousand dollars deposited in the Sixpenny Savings Bank. I called at the bank to make some inquiries about interest, and when I came out I presume some rascal followed me and stole the book——”
“Have you any idea who took it?”
“I got into the horse cars, near the bank; next to me sat a young man in a light overcoat. There was no one on the other side of me. I think he must have taken it.”
“That was Stuyvesant,” said Carl to himself.
“When did this happen, Aunt Rachel?”
“Three days since.”
“Why didn’t you do something about it before?”
“I did. I advertised a reward of twenty-five dollars to anyone who would restore it to me.”
“There was no occasion for that. By giving notice at the bank, they would give you a new book after a time.”
“I preferred to recover the old one. Besides, I thought I would like to know what became of it.”