I slept at the bank nights, but I always closed at four o’clock and went home to tea. And about eight in the evening I generally returned, and went to bed in a back room adjoining the reception room.
One night in October, just as I was about to close to go home, Mrs. Leroy came in. She seemed very much frightened, and her face paled and flushed alternately.
“I wish to see you alone,” she said, in a low voice. “Lock the outer door, if you please, and then listen to me.”
I did as requested, and then, sinking her voice to a whisper, she went on to tell me of a plot which had been laid by three men to break into the bank that night and rob the vault.
“Mr. Morelle,” she said, in conclusion, “if you had not slept here I confess that I should have done nothing about it, because I risk my life by betraying them. But I heard them say that if you awoke, the only way would be to murder you, and I could not remain idle and suffer any one to be killed.”
“But who are these men, and how did you learn their intentions? And from whom are you in danger?” I asked.
“These are questions I cannot answer. I have warned you, but you must not ask to know too much. Be on your guard. I think, if they discover that you have means of defense they will go away. You will call in some one, will you not?” And my heart beat a little faster as I marked the ill-concealed anxiety of her countenance.
“I will be prepared——”
“Hush!” she said, laying her hand imploringly on my arm. “You must not think of bloodshed! Promise me that you will not! Oh, Mr. Morelle, promise me that you will not kill him, for my sake! I have risked my life for you—now, in return, promise me that there shall be no bloodshed!”
“Who is it that I must not injure?”