“Because, most unexpectedly, I got the very chance for which I was waiting. A member of the company playing here left suddenly. The manager wired for me to come on to Chicago in a few days. It was the same day Mr. Bentfield sent me out of town, and I did not want to go. But I went, and I finished up the business for him. Then I hurried back to my boarding-house, got the thousand dollars and my things, and left. I went away disguised, as I did not want to stop and explain why I was leaving, and I did not want to be arrested and detained as a suspect. I heard about that quiet cabin at Seven Mile Beach, and I went there to rest up and get letter-perfect in my actor part. What you say Bailey heard, about me raving, was probably when I was going over my part.”
“But, why didn’t you send some word to the bank about leaving?” asked Larry, after a moment’s thought.
“Because I knew any explanation I might make would be construed as an excuse for getting away to avoid suspicion of the theft. I was afraid they would suspect me if I left, and I was right. I know several of the clerks who want to leave the bank, but they are afraid to, for fear they’ll be arrested. I took the first and best chance that came. I didn’t even tell Mr. Wilson that I was going until I was away. But, as for that million dollars, I never had a penny of it!”
“Then who took it?” asked Larry weakly. He saw his case, that he had built up with such care, tumbling apart. He did not know what to do next. And yet he was rather glad on the whole, for the sake of Grace Potter, that Witherby was not the thief.
“I didn’t!” declared Witherby, “though I can see now that my use of beards and moustaches led to that belief.”
“Indeed it did,” declared Larry, remembering the time he had seen the clerk in the costumer’s at the time of the drug house fire. “I’m sorry I knocked you down, and caused your arrest. I admit I was suspicious of you ever since that—er—well, that little fracas in the subway.”
“I’m sorry about that,” admitted Witherby. “I was in a hurry that morning, and late. Besides I had a terrible toothache, and I didn’t care much what I did. I wish you’d apologize to that young lady for me.”
“I will,” agreed Larry, who was beginning to have a different feeling toward Witherby. “She thought sure, from a back view of you in the store one day, that you were the bearded man who had bought the duplicate bag.”
“Well, I didn’t. Though I hurried out, as I didn’t want to meet you. I’m going to write to Mr. Bentfield and Mr. Wilson at once, explaining everything. I realize that I came away rather unceremoniously, and under suspicious circumstances. But if I had given the usual notice, and waited two weeks before leaving, I would have missed the chance to get on the stage. And I may say that I have started on a successful stage career.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” spoke Larry. “But I certainly am puzzled. I’ll have to begin all over again, and I don’t know how to do it.”