“Excuse me; but I do not think you will,” the young man coldly returned.
“I am Mr. Brewster’s attorney, and it will be my duty to settle his estate; consequently all his property will pass through my hands. Give me those boxes!” the man concluded authoritatively.
“No, sir. Mr. Brewster authorized me to take them to his house; I shall do as he ordered, and since you say he is no longer living, give them to Miss Brewster; he stated that he wanted the jewels for her.”
And he started to leave the vault as he concluded.
“You will do no such thing, you young upstart!” snarled John Hubbard, at the same time making an agile spring backward out of the vault, when he swung to the ponderous door almost before Gerald comprehended his intention.
“Now, you beggarly upstart, I have you just where I want you,” he cried, in a cruel, exultant tone, and putting his lips to the keyhole, “I once gave you an object-lesson regarding your fate if you continued to stand in my way.”
Gerald did not deign to reply to these taunts and presently he knew, by the closing of the outer door of the bank, that he was alone.
His heart was very heavy, for he began to realize that his case was desperate. Fate and his evil-minded foe had conspired to so involve him in a network of compromising circumstances, it seemed likely that he was destined to be proved a graceless scamp and a daring robber.
His employer, the only one who had it in his power to exonerate him from blame and prove his innocence, was dead.