“Whew!” whistled Phil, when the final figures had been made. “Eric wasn’t at all bashful, was he? He grabbed more than three thousand dollars!”
“Three thousand, three hundred and ninety,” repeated Phœbe, jotting down the exact amount on a slip of paper. “All right, Phil; that is what we wanted to know. Now, put this dreadful stuff away.”
He complied. There was a queer feeling in the young fellow’s chest, as if iron fingers were gripping his heart. His worst fears had been realized and he had become the innocent victim of his former friend’s diabolical scheming.
As the Daring twins walked home together through the still night, arm in arm, they exchanged few words. Phil reflected that his business career was practically ruined. Here in Riverdale, his old home, he would be scorned and reviled as a common thief, and wherever he might go in the big outside world his disgrace would be sure to follow him. And what of Eric Spaythe, the false friend who had planned his downfall and would profit by it? With means to pay his debts, and so prevent his father’s knowledge of his past extravagance, Eric would doubtless be more cautious in the future. In time he might become the proprietor of the bank he had to-night so cleverly robbed. As for the false entries on the books, made to cover the minor thefts that had preceded this coup, all evidence would point conclusively to Phil Daring as the culprit. That poor and struggling youth was to become the scapegoat to shield Eric Spaythe, the rich banker’s son.
Phil groaned in spirit, but believed himself to be absolutely helpless.
Phœbe, on the contrary, had recovered her cheerfulness, and as she kissed her twin good night in the hall she whispered:
“Forget about Eric, dear. There’s nothing to worry about, so try to get some sleep. Now that we know the truth, and just what to expect, it will be easy to save you from this contemptible plot.”
Phil clasped the girl close in his arms. It was good to feel that Phœbe, the one person he loved most in all the world, knew his innocence and believed in him. He must be brave and face the future calmly, for her sweet sake.
In his room he looked at his watch. Two o’clock. By this time Eric was well on his way to St. Louis. Phil sighed, went to bed, and having a clear conscience was presently sound asleep.
Phœbe pleaded a headache next morning and did not go to church with the others. Phil, solemn eyed and with careworn features, accompanied Cousin Judith and the children and did his best to keep his thoughts on the sermon.