“I do,” calmly. “I am not familiar with your signature, Kent, but that Rochester wrote the body of those four checks and put his own signature at the bottom I will swear to in any court of law. To make them valid he had to add your name.”
“But, d—mn it, man!” Kent stared in bewilderment at his three companions. “Rochester was honorable and straight-forward—”
“And addicted to drink,” put in Harding.
“But not a forger,” retorted Kent firmly. Harding's only rejoinder was a skeptical smile as he turned to address Clymer.
“So Rochester not only has taken his own money, but withdrawn that belonging to the firm of Rochester and Kent without the knowledge of his junior partner; it looks black, Mr. Clymer,” he remarked. “Especially when taken in consideration with his other involved financial transactions.”
“Where will we find Rochester, Kent?” asked Taylor, before the bank president could answer the New Yorker.
Kent paused in indecision. What reply could he make without further involving Rochester in trouble? He had not the faintest idea where Rochester was, but to state that he was missing could not but add to the belief that he had made away with all the money he could lay his hands on. The noon edition of the Times had hinted at Rochester's disappearance but had stated they could not get the statement confirmed from Police Headquarters; obviously Harding and Taylor had not seen the newspaper.
Was it just to the men before him to keep them in the dark? If their claims were true, and Kent never doubted that they were, they had already lost money through Rochester's extraordinary behavior. Kent turned sick at the thought of his own loss—his savings swept away. Would Barbara wait for him—was it fair to ask her?
Taylor broke the prolonged silence.
“I met Detective Ferguson on my way here,” he stated. “He told me that the police were looking for Rochester.”