“And now comes the climax,” went on Larry, as he told of finding the thousand-dollar bill, and the false, sandy moustache.
“By Jove!” exclaimed the lawyer, “I never would have believed it! Of course, he’s the guilty one, Bentfield. You should notify the police, and have him arrested at once. In fact, I think I would not wait for his return. He may never come back. Send word out to this place, where he has gone on business for you, and have him taken into custody there. Get him out of bed if necessary. He may have the million with him.”
“Poor fellow!” said the bank president softly. “It is sad to think of it. I am just beginning to realize how hard it must be for a bank clerk, on a comparatively small salary, to see millions of dollars every day, and know that he must not touch them. And most of them are young fellows, with a love for the pleasures of life. It is hard, very hard! A great temptation!”
“Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed the lawyer gruffly. “They should resist temptation. The money is not theirs. If they take it they must suffer the consequences. Call up the police at once, and have them arrest this fellow. I congratulate you, young man,” he said to Larry. “You have worked up a difficult case in a masterly manner. I congratulate you. Yes, hum!”
“It isn’t finished yet,” said Larry, who had seen many a good story go to pieces at the last minute. “Wait until we get the thief, and the million.”
“Oh, we as good as have the thief, but I can’t say so much for the money,” spoke the lawyer, confidently.
“All I ask,” said Larry, “is that you will see that I get the first information on this case. I want the story exclusively. That is why I have worked so hard on it—to get a ‘beat’ for the Leader.”
“You shall have it, you shall have it,” said the bank president slowly. “Poor fellow! Poor Witherby! I suppose there is no other way than to have him arrested?” He looked at the legal gentleman anxiously.
“A way out? Of course not, my dear sir. He must be arrested. Call up the police at once.”
“I suppose I’ll have to,” sighed Mr. Bentfield. “And yet I had great hopes of that young man. He had a hasty temper, but he was getting control of it. Too bad—too bad.”