The clerks in the office of the great railroad company winked at each other as he passed them, for they all knew the detective by sight, and suspected that his companion must also be his prisoner. Myles however, never noticed them. He neither seemed to see nor notice any thing until the door of an inner office was closed behind him, and he found himself in the presence of his old gentleman friend, with whom he had dined two evenings before at the Oxygen Club.
He uttered a cry of amazement. “Are you Mr. Walker B. Saxon, President of the A. & B. road?” he exclaimed.
“I am,” was the reply; “and you may rest assured, my dear boy, that if I had known of this thing in time you should not have been subjected to the mortification of an arrest. I only heard of it an hour ago, and then I did not know but what the officer had already found you. I could only send orders to have you brought here before being taken to Mountain Junction. Now sit down and tell me your side of the story, and then we will see what can be done.”
“But I don’t even know why I am arrested,” said Myles. “It is absurd to say that I robbed a safe. What am I supposed to have taken from it?”
“An express package sent from this office and containing one thousand dollars.”
“There wasn’t a sign of any such package in the safe,” exclaimed Myles, impetuously. “It only contained books and papers.”
An anxious look flitted across Mr. Saxon’s face at this admission.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
The full import of what he had said flashed into Myles’ mind. The blood rushed to his face, and he hesitated a moment before asking in turn: