DeWitt read the news item carefully his eyes glinting with interest.
“Too bad Albert Potts didn’t notify the police several days ago. Rhett may be half way to the Mexican border by this time.”
“Then you believe he walked off with the bonds?” asked Penny.
“Looks like it,” shrugged the editor. “There’s no other suspect. Or if there is, the police aren’t talking. More of those missing bonds may show up. Jerry, get busy on the telephone!” he called to the reporter who sat nearby.
“What’s doing?” Jerry inquired, getting up and coming to the desk.
DeWitt thrust the dispatch into his hand. “Get hold of that Culver City banker,” he instructed. “Find out who turned the bond in, and if the description fits Rhett.”
Jerry was occupied at the telephone for nearly fifteen minutes. He returned to report: “The bond was turned in by a woman, and the bank clerk didn’t make a record of her name.”
“Any description?”
“No, the clerk only remembers that she was a middle-aged woman.”
DeWitt sighed heavily and turned his attention to other matters. Penny glanced at the clock. It was after six o’clock. Her father, she knew, would have left the office nearly an hour earlier. She could catch a bus home, but first a cup of coffee across the street might help to fortify her until she could enjoy a home-cooked dinner by Mrs. Weems.