This young man’s name was John McKeever, and he was as keen as a newly ground bayonet.
“Hello, McKeever!” was Jefferson Arnold’s greeting. “What has become of Pike?”
“Gone,” replied McKeever laconically.
“Know where?”
“No idea. He just simply dried up. I came here one morning and he had cleaned out the safe and decamped. I went to the bank and found he had not deposited much of late, but that, two days before, he had taken out most of the company’s balance.”
“And they let him have it without question, eh?” put in Nick Carter.
“Certainly. It was not an unusual thing for him to take out all the money he had there—or most of it, especially when one of the ships of the company was nearly due. Everybody knew that the steamer Jefferson was expected about that time.”
“The Jefferson is the sister ship of the Marathon, Carter,” explained Arnold incidentally. “They are the two finest vessels of our fleet.”
“So he had no difficulty in getting the money,” continued McKeever. “It was supposed he meant to ship the cash to the home office in New York.”
“I see,” nodded Nick Carter. “Pretty well managed. But what about Leslie Arnold, Mr. McKeever?”