“The fact that you had a thousand dollars, or any large sum about you, and that you recklessly exhibited it in the dining-room of a hotel, was quite enough to excite my suspicions.”
“If I had stolen the money, I think I should not have been so stupid as to exhibit it. If I know myself, I should not.”
“But you did show it.”
“I did show it; but it was not stolen.”
“I think it was; and when I heard of the circumstances, I spent my afternoon here in making the investigation. Perhaps you can put me in the way of verifying your statement that you borrowed the money of your aunt?”
“I shall be very glad to do so. My aunt lives in Springhaven. She will show you my note.”
“Even if she does show me your note, and it is fully proved that you borrowed a thousand dollars of her, that will not explain how your cash happens to be twelve hundred dollars short.”
“Perhaps I can explain that myself, if you will allow me to examine my drawer,” I replied.
Just then a light flashed through my mind, and I recalled an incident which had occurred just after the closing of the bank on the preceding day, which my private griefs had driven out of my head. I understood it all then, and I was satisfied that I should utterly confound Mr. Bristlebach, though I was, at the same time, in danger of confounding the cashier. But the clock was striking nine, and it was time to open the bank. There was not time to count the cash again, and I did not care to expose a little irregularity on the part of the cashier, by telling what I knew.
Mr. Bristlebach bit his lips and looked at the clock. Through the glass windows of the directors’ room, he saw a man come in with a check in his hand. He was evidently deliberating upon the propriety of permitting me to discharge my duties for the forenoon. We were one hand short, and there was no one to take my place.