“That thief, whoever he is, has the best nerve of any one I ever heard off,” thought Larry one day, after a visit to Mr. Bentfield. The young reporter looked into the brass “cage” where the clerks were, wondering which of them would finally prove to have been concerned in the robbery.
At this moment Witherby looked up, and, catching Larry’s glance, he frowned. A little later, just as Larry was going out, Director Wilson entered, and the reporter heard him tell a messenger that he wanted to speak to Witherby.
“They’re getting thicker than ever,” mused Larry. “But I don’t know that it has any significance. Mr. Wilson hasn’t much use for me, and he laughed at my efforts. But so far I’ve showed that I was partly right, and, before I’m through with this case, I’ll show him that I’m altogether right. But what shall I do next?”
It was a hard question to answer. In lieu of something better to do Larry called at police headquarters, where he was well known. He found several friends there, one of whom, Detective Nyler, had done some work on the bank mystery.
“Larry, what are you going to pull off next?” asked Nyler, who had followed Larry’s stories in the Leader closely. “You are putting it all over us down here. What’s next?”
“I don’t know, Billy. I wish I did. I thought maybe I could get some points from you.”
“Nothing doing. I’m off that case now. Working on a good second-story job, though. When I get my man I’ll give you the story.”
“Thanks. Anything else new?”
“No; but say, Larry, if I were you I’d keep on with that brick end of the game a little longer.”
“What’s the use? Those bricks might have been picked up at any one of fifty buildings. I never could find which one, and, if I did, what good would it do me?”