Because of the damage to his windows, and the fear of what might follow, the costumer could give Larry little information, that amounted to anything, about Witherby.
“I don’t know the man you speak of,” said the costumer to the reporter. “Many people come in here every day to buy false wigs, beards or moustaches for themselves. I do not ask their names. They may want them for theatricals, or for criminal disguises. I have no way of telling. A number were in here when the explosion blew out all my windows. Oh, it was terrible! I am all upset. I don’t know the young man you speak of. At any rate, he is gone—they are all gone who were in here. The explosion scared them. Oh, so much as I will lose by this! Some of my best costumes are spoiled!”
This was true, for dirt and dust had sifted in the opened windows after the explosion, and now black smoke was entering in dense clouds.
Even as Larry was talking there came a series of light explosions, and, fearing there might be more, and severer ones, the police ordered every one out of the buildings near the burning structure.
“I guess it’s time for me to go,” thought Larry. “I can’t learn anything more here, and I want to get on Witherby’s trail. He’s certainly up to something. It’s a good thing he has an outside job, or he couldn’t be away from the bank so much to make his plans. But I think I’ve got him pat now. If only I’m not too late!”
As Larry hurried from the costumer’s there came an explosion worse than any of the preceding ones. He wanted to stay, and help cover the story, which he knew would be a big one, but a reporter, like a soldier, has to obey orders, and Mr. Emberg had sent for him to come in.
“I wonder what his tip is, about the bank mystery?” thought Larry, as he hurried on to the Leader office. “I don’t believe it is as good as mine.”
That Mr. Emberg was surprised when Larry gave all the details of seeing Witherby with the false moustache is to put it mildly.
“It’s going to be a great yarn, Larry!” exclaimed the city editor. “Keep right after it. This is my tip. One of the headquarters’ detectives is on the trail of one of the bank directors, I understand.”
“He is?” cried Larry. “Then I think I know which one.”