“What?” Harding looked up, startled. “Why didn't you inform me of that?”
“Well, I thought we'd better hear from Mr. Clymer the true state of Rochester's finances,” responded Taylor. “I never anticipated such facts as he has given us.”
“But if you knew the police were after Rochester—” objected Harding.
Clymer broke into the conversation; there was a heavy frown on his usually placid countenance. “I judged from Detective Ferguson's confidences to us, Kent, at the Club de Vingt that he was wanted by the police in connection with the Turnbull tragedy, but the facts brought out through Harding's action to attach Rochester's bank account, puts a different construction on Rochester's disappearance.”
“What had Rochester to do with Jimmie Turnbull?” questioned Harding, before Kent could answer Clymer.
“They lived together,” he replied shortly.
“And one dies and the other disappears,” Harding whistled dolefully. “Wasn't Mr. Turnbull an official of this bank, Mr. Clymer?”
“Yes, our cashier.”
“Were his affairs involved?”
“Not in the least,” Clymer spoke with emphasis. “A most honorable fellow, Jimmie Turnbull; his murder was a shocking affair.”