“Who is it?”
“Mr. Wilson. He and Witherby are quite chummy. Say, wouldn’t it be great, if it should turn out that he and Witherby pulled off this robbery together?”
“And are going to escape together with the million dollars,” added Mr. Emberg, his eyes sparkling in anticipation of the sensational story that would develop.
“I’ll get right after it,” exclaimed Larry, and then the thought came to him that Mr. Wilson might have been the man with the beard who had bought the valise.
“I’ll have to arrange for Miss Mason to see him,” he thought. “She may be able to identify him.”
His first visit was to the detective whom the city editor had mentioned as having a clew to the bank director.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a bank official has robbed his own institution,” thought Larry. “And Wilson certainly acted very queer about this case.”
When he saw the detective, however, he found that the clew was so slender as to be hardly worth following. Still, the young reporter knew that he must neglect nothing.
“The first thing to be done is to search Witherby’s room,” declared Larry, in talking to the bank president of the latest development. “He may have the money concealed there. And we’ve got to act quickly or he may escape. Can you arrange it?”
“I think so. I expect him in soon, and when he does come I’ll give him something to do that will keep him out of town over-night. Then, with the proper police authority, which I can arrange for, we’ll search his room. His buying a false moustache certainly looks suspicious, Larry. But I don’t take any stock in this about Mr. Wilson.”