Phil bent over and kissed her, but made no reply. Putting all his mind upon the books he methodically pursued his work for an hour or so, until all the entries had been made and his task finished. Then he closed the ledgers with a sigh of relief, put them away, and locked the safe.
“Who knows,” he said, turning to Phœbe with a wan smile, “but that this is the last bit of work I shall do for Spaythe’s Bank? If my suspicions are correct, on Monday morning the safe will be found to have been robbed, and then I must face accusations and probable disgrace.”
By this time the girl had recovered most of her composure. She was still pale, but had been busily thinking during that tedious hour, trying to find some way to save her twin brother.
“Do you know exactly how much cash is in that safe now?” she asked.
“Of course, Phœbe. It is all entered upon the books, in black and white, and Mr. Spaythe has a copy of the amounts, besides.”
She looked carefully around the room. At the very back of the building, facing the safe, was one window which opened upon an unused yard at the rear. The window was just then covered with a thick shade. Phœbe took the desk shears, walked deliberately to this window, and punched two small holes in the shade.
“What on earth are you doing?” asked her brother, in amazement.
“Phil, we’re going to play we’re detectives, you and I. Go outside, and around to this window, and find out if you can see the safe through the holes I have made. If not, I must make them larger.”
Phil obeyed, still puzzled as to her meaning. When he returned to her, he reported that the holes were about on a level with his eyes, when he stood in the back yard, and that the safe was plainly visible through the tiny openings if one stood with an eye close to the windowpane.
“Very well,” said she, nodding with satisfaction. “What time is it now?”