“Would you advise me to have a private talk with him, and tell him what I know?” asked Phil.
“What’s the use? He cannot put back the money he has taken. Better let the thing run its course, Phil, and keep out of it yourself in every way.”
“I will,” said Phil, with decision.
But Eric was not long in discovering a change in Phil’s attitude toward him. The young man did not mean to alter his manner toward his old friend, but their former congenial relations were rather abruptly broken off, much to Eric’s surprise. Then the latter became suspicious, and while he spoke to his colleague as cheerfully as of old, Phil frequently caught Eric watching him with a sly, searching glance that had a trace of fear in it. This mistrust gradually wore away when the banker’s son found he had not been betrayed, or even questioned. If Phil found any entries in the books that did not look exactly right to him, he passed them over and said nothing. This served to restore Eric’s confidence in him, and the two boys continued to work together in perfect harmony.
Phœbe was very miserable over Phil’s discovery of Eric’s irregularities. It was the first time any disgraceful or criminal act had been brought close to her knowledge, and she became nervous for fear her twin might, in some way, become implicated in the terrible affair. The girl was sorry for Eric, and grieved over him with all her kindly heart. It seemed so sad that a bright young fellow with such splendid prospects should go wrong and foolishly ruin all his future life. She knew Mr. Spaythe well enough to believe he would cast off Eric without mercy when he learned the fact that his son was a thief. For this reason she sincerely hoped the banker would never make the discovery.
CHAPTER XIV
THE FOLLY OF GRAN’PA ELIOT
That night Phœbe was again aroused by the peculiar sliding noise in the next room. She had been awaiting it for so long that she was alert to the slightest sound Elaine made, and now she lost no time in silently mounting upon the table and opening the peephole she had prepared. Her own room was shrouded in gloom, but the housekeeper had placed a lighted candle upon her table, before which she was seated in her white nightrobe.
When Phœbe first observed her, old Elaine was tying the mouth of a stout canvas bag that was full of some irregular, lumpy material. Then she drew another bag toward her—there were several standing upon the broad table—and unfastened the cord that bound it while it was lying upon its side. At once a shower of gold burst forth, and with her long bony fingers the woman slid each piece of money across the table, at the same time eagerly counting it in the low, mumbling tone Phœbe had so often heard but could not before explain.