“He is very much interested in Toby and greatly worried over the way his case drags. Eric told me the other day he would do anything to save Toby.”
“Then I advise you to see him.”
Phoebe glanced out of the window. Becky and Don and the two Randolph children were just starting for school, eagerly canvassing the joyful news as they went. So Phoebe put on her things and quietly followed them, wending her way to Spaythe’s bank.
This was a neat brick building, quite the most imposing bit of architecture in town. At this early hour the doors had just been opened and no customer had as yet appeared. Eric was back of the cashier’s desk and greeted the girl with a cheery “good morning.”
“Who gave fifty dollars to the Marching Club, Eric?” she asked.
“Some unknown person, Miss Daring,” he replied with a smile.
“Not unknown to the bank, however,” she said meaningly. “You see, it’s this way,” Phoebe added, as the young man shook his head positively, “whoever gave that money knows something, Eric, and we must find out who it is. Perhaps—”
“Perhaps it’s the thief himself,” returned Eric. “It struck me at the time as a curious proceeding, in view of the circumstances,” he continued; “but the truth is, I’m as much in the dark as you are.”
“How can you be?” she protested.
“Yesterday afternoon the governor came in from his private office and told me to write the letter to Doris Randolph. I worded it just as I was instructed, but when I asked who was the donor my father merely frowned and said he must respect the person’s wish to remain unidentified.”