A moment later he knew, for, as a young man leaving the shadow of the stage door passed under a glaring arc light, Larry saw the features of Harrison Witherby!
And the bank clerk wore no false beard or moustache. In fact, aside from a rather “loud” suit of clothes, he was dressed ordinarily.
For a moment Larry could not believe his eyesight, but after a second glance, he knew he could not be mistaken.
“It is Witherby!” he whispered to himself. “I’ve found him! He must be paying attention to some actress! That’s why he’s been back of the scenes. But—he’s all alone. I don’t understand that.” For Witherby had moved off down the street, a solitary figure.
“I’ve got to follow him!” thought Larry desperately. “I’ve got to keep right after him until I find where he’s staying. Then I’ll have him arrested. To think that I’ve found him, after all! I wonder where he has that million dollars? I wonder, if he went back of the scenes, to escort some actress home, why she isn’t with him?”
Then Larry realized that Witherby might have gone in merely to pay a congratulatory call, or there might have been some misunderstanding.
“He seemed to know several of the performers,” reasoned the reporter, “for he said ‘good-night’ to two or three of them. What can he be doing, getting so thick with theatrical people? Well, I’ll find that out later. Just now I’ve got to follow him, and I mustn’t let him see me!”
Then Larry started to trail the suspected bank clerk, who sauntered down the street, jauntily swinging a cane.
CHAPTER XXII
THE ARREST
While it was easy for Larry to follow Witherby along the streets, which, at that hour of the night, were not crowded, it was not so easy to avoid observation because of that same absence of people. And Larry certainly did not want the former bank clerk to suspect him.