He reached for the telephone on his desk, but Larry stayed his hand.
“One moment, Mr. Bentfield,” said the young reporter. “I think, now that this case seems likely to come to an issue, that we had better be sure of our ground.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that, in all likelihood, Witherby will deny that he took the money.”
“But we can prove that he had part of it in his possession!” exclaimed the lawyer testily.
“I’m afraid not,” went on Larry. “Thousand-dollar bills are not so very uncommon. No one knows the numbers of the stolen ones, it seems. And, it has been my experience, that no matter how good the evidence, or how complete the case against a criminal, he will deny it, in the hope of puzzling a jury.”
And as Larry spoke thus he could not help thinking of how it might affect Grace Potter—to know that her friend and distant relative was a bank thief. Larry almost wished he did not have to solve the mystery.
“Well, I suppose you are right,” admitted the lawyer. “I have had very little practice in criminal cases.”
“What do you suggest, Larry?” asked the banker.
“I think that we should go carefully over the ground, and see if there are any weak points,” replied the young reporter. “If we have to resort to circumstantial evidence we ought to be able to show, step by step, how the chain of evidence is made up. In the first place, would it have been possible for Witherby to have gotten to the bag that morning, after the million dollars was put in it?”