“That’s no excuse,” stormed McGowan. “Jacobs should have turned the knob on that bar before ever he left the office.”
“By George!”
Bernritter gave a jump, as though an idea had just flickered through his brain.
“Well?” demanded McGowan.
“That Dutchman! He had hitched his horse down by the laboratory, and he was up at the kitchen with Frieda when Jacobs came here. While Jacobs and I were talking, he went down to the laboratory and rode away. Perhaps——”
“That Dutchman seemed honest enough to me,” demurred McGowan. “He has been hanging out here for several days, but we began to miss gold long before he came.”
“At the mill, yes,” said Bernritter, “but this is the first bullion that has gotten away from the cyanid-plant.”
“Well, I don’t believe that Dutchman had anything to do with it.”
“His horse was hitched by the laboratory,” persisted Bernritter. “It would have been possible for him to go into the office and take advantage of Jacobs’ absence to lift the bar.”
“He was snooping around the laboratory all day yesterday,” spoke up Jacobs.